The Billionaire's Secret (BDSM Erotic Romance) (His Submissive, Part Six) Read Online Free PDF Page A

understand why you’re here though.”
    I swallowed the knot in my throat. I was so close. “I was hoping we could settle it before you sold it to a magazine.”
    “We didn’t sell it to a magazine,” she said, crossing her arms. “We sold it to Cade Wallace.”
     
     

 
    ****
     
    I dove head first into work. I fleshed out client dockets, updated calendars and delivered all messages to their appropriate recipients, trying to keep it together. Jacob still hadn’t talked to me in two days. And then there was the whole Cade thing. Why would he buy the picture? What did he have to gain?
    I turned my attention back to the task list on my screen, forcing Cade from my mind. Naturally, the next thing on the list was contacting Lisa Jones, Cade’s personal assistant.
    I begrudgingly clicked open a new tab, searching for Lisa’s contact number.
    I put the phone on speaker and dialed the number. I was being silly. It wasn’t like I had to deal with Cade. The third ring ended abruptly and a voice much too deep to be Lisa’s flowed through the speakers.
    “Lisa Jones’ phone.”
    My throat tightened and my eyes nearly bulged from my head.
    “Helloooo?” Cade held the o, trailing off suggestively. Taunting me.
    I needed to say something because calling right back would be infinitely more awkward than the first time around, “Hi.”
    My voice was tiny, a hoarse, pathetic whisper. I coughed and gave myself a swift kick in the ass before I said it again. With feeling. And not like I was still that girl gazing at the contours of her favorite actor’s body. “Hello, this is--”
    “Leila,” I heard him rearranging, giving me his full attention. “What’s up?”
    I closed my eyes, gathering my wits about me. “Mr. Wallace--”
    “Cade.”
    “Mr. Wallace,” I said pointedly, ignoring him. “I was trying to reach your assistant. Is the number on her card was incorrect?”
    “Nope,” he said smoothly. “She’s right here.” He let out a chuckle. “Giving me the evil eye for answering her phone. When I saw Whitmore and Creighton flashing, I thought it might be you and--”
    “Could I please speak with Ms. Jones?”
    “Well I can tell you she likes that Mr./Mrs. stuff even less than me.” After he realized his chuckles weren’t contagious, he got serious. “What’s up? I know you called for Lisa, but I’m the next best thing.”
    My first thought was to stand my ground and refuse to carry on a conversation with him, but I realized that the quicker I just spit it out, the quicker I could disconnect. Ask him about the pictures!
    “I’m just confirming the schedule for tomorrow night,” I said, ignoring the stifling curiosity. Inquiring minds did NOT need to know. The pictures weren’t on TMZ and that’s all that mattered. “I wanted to advise you about--”
    “I took care of the picture.”
    I gulped, not sure what to say. Not sure what he expected from me.
    “Hello?” he snapped. “Still there?”
    “Y-Yes,” I turned my chair to the corner and dropped my volume. “What do you want me to say?”
    “Thank you, maybe?” he bit off. “I did it for you.”
    I fingered the phone cord, hating how his last sentence made me feel. I couldn’t go there. I wouldn’t.
    “To be honest,” he continued, not letting me clear the air, “I figured the guy would fare better with me. Whitmore would have probably threatened the poor guy for just taking a couple of harmless pictures. Busted kneecaps, horse’s head, financial ruin or something like that. He seems like a fairly creative guy.”
    “Are you being serious right now?” I found zero amusement in his shootout to The Godfather or transparent efforts to take Jacob down a peg. “You don’t even know him. And not that it’s any of your business, but I was going to talk to the photographer. I was going to take care of it.” The line went silent but I knew we were still connected. “I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t need your help.”
    He