His Love (The Billionaire Dom Diaries, #4)

by Claire, Ava

  "Justice?" I said hollowly. I felt like I'd just been whipped through a tornado and dropped back down to earth, battered and bloodied. How could I share DNA with someone that thought hurting someone was justice.

  My mind jerked me back to that cottage. To my plans for my brother. I thought that was justice.

  Monster ran in the family, apparently.

  "Really, Jacob—I thought you'd be thrilled." She lifted the glass but paused before she brought it to her lips, like she could make out the impression of mine. She put the glass down with a sigh and ruffled her salt and pepper locks nonchalantly. "You wanted me to get along with your wife. To treat her like family." Her voice darkened. "I wanted her to know, everyone to know, that you don't mess with the Whitmore’s."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The first time my wife invited my brother to our home and dressed it up as some surprise, some bridge to a fantastical Happily Ever After, I'd been pissed. I felt manipulated, because if I denied her the gift and done what I really wanted to do (kick him out), I would have been the bad guy who didn't want happiness and gum drops and unicorns.

  When I slogged from the elevator, hurling my keys into the basket near the door, finally wanting something heavy and alcoholic to drink, hearing my brother's voice didn't bring on anger. Maybe I was too exhausted. Too defeated. I just looked up at the ceiling and mouthed, what's next? Maybe locusts. Or another long lost sibling.

  Leila skidded from the dining room, immediately doing damage control as she hurried toward me, her curls bounding around her worried, beautiful face.

  "I should have told you he was here, but he just showed up and I could tell he was close to doing something he'd regret-"

  I cut off her words by pulling her to me, covering her mouth with my own. I poured all the love in me into the kiss, just wanting to stay with her. I was sick of living in a world with kidnappings and monsters. I wanted a world that was nothing but she and I.

  I pushed away everything else but her taste; the sweetness of her tongue, the honey of her moans as I roped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. She smiled against my lips as her arms locked around my neck and she curved into me, our bodies locked in an embrace that swept me towards a bliss that only existed when she was in my arms.

  I took a breath, but my eyes were still closed, hands still holding onto her. She was my sanity. She was the only thing keeping me together.

  "Wow," she sighed. I opened my eyes and it was like she'd pulled the sun from the sky and the light and warmth streamed from her pores. "Your talk with Alicia must have gone well."

  And just like that, the light went out. I let go of her, the urge to drink roaring back with a vengeance. "Depends on how you define ‘well’."

  Her footsteps were hollow and apprehensive behind me. "I define ‘well’ as good. Progress."

  "Huh." I didn't even turn toward the dining room, steering my way toward the liquor cabinet. "Well, progress was made I suppose. She admitted that she did it."

  "Oh my god," Leila whispered. The horror in her voice made my heart ache. It was the horror I'd hoped for in my mother. I wanted to be wrong. To believe she was incapable of what she'd done. Now that I had all the pieces and the puzzle was assembled and indisputable, I felt like a fool for asking the question in the first place.

  She did it, and I had no doubt that if faced with another situation that called for her perverted sense of justice, she'd do it again. And then she'd just sit there. With her book and her wine, pretending like it was just something on her checklist.

  Terrorize the staff? Check. Doubles at the club? Check. Sell a girl to a crime lord? Check.

  "Jacob-" I felt her eyes following me to the cabinet. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  I zeroed in on the bourbon, then decided to go with the vodka instead. Vodka was for celebrating. I pulled it out and gave a toast. "The one good thing that's come out of all of this is that she finally considers you a Whitmore. Congratulations! Welcome to a family filled with kidnappers, would be murderers, and sociopaths."

  My joke fell flat. Leila moved wordlessly to me, her eyes filled with a concern that humbled me. She eased the bottle from my hand and put it aside. She reached up and gently ran her fingers through my hair, her fingertips kissing my temple as she used love to combat the darkness that was eating me alive.

  "I'm here, Jacob. You're not alone. I don't know what happened with your mom-"

  I pulled from her touch but I didn't reach for the liquid escape. The alcohol that would burn its way down my throat and give me the confidence to tell my wife that there was no escaping the person my mother was. Boozing it up was weak though. And the Whitmore's weren't weak, right?

  I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter. There was no building up to it. I just had to get it over with.

  "I pulled up and immediately, I could tell something was wrong. There was no guard. Once I got onto the estate, there was no staff, no sound, no anything. I go up to the master suite and she's just sitting there."

  I paused, painfully remembering how terrified I was. I relived the carnage in Dublin, the horrors in Paris. I'd expected the room to be painted in my mother's blood because that seemed to be my new reality. And when she was okay...I foolishly believed it was some sign that maybe there was a silver lining in all of this.

  "She was just sitting there?" Leila's face was twisted in confusion. "There's no one there and your mom is just what—having a quiet morning in?"

  "Something like that," I sighed. The floor creaked behind my wife and my brother stepped into view. He was still wearing the same grungy white t-shirt and jeans that he'd worn in Paris. He even scowled the same 'I'll kill you all' scowl that had become as much a part of his face as his cloudy eyes. He didn't speak and I didn't pretend this was some sort of social call. I knew why he was here. He wanted to know what happened so he could proceed as he saw fit.

  Leila glanced over her shoulder at him and they exchanged some silent look that Cole ended with a nod. She went to the cabinet and pulled out glasses. Her voice was warm and non confrontational, but there was an authority that ran beneath her words and called everyone to take witness. "We're just talking and listening. No one's doing anything rash."

  Cole's nod was his response and when she glanced in my direction, I gave her one as well.

  She filled the glasses with water, giving one to Cole and taking a sip of mine before she handed it to me.

  "Thank you," I said softly.

  She flashed me a sad smile, then gently steered us back to the story. "So she was alone."

  "Yes," I answered. I quickly took a swig of my water, working it around in my mouth before I swallowed. "It was all part of her plan. She wanted me to focus on the staff's absence and her weird behavior so we wouldn't have to talk about the real reason I was there. When I called her on it, she admitted that she did it. She sold Brittany to Lars."

  Leila's horror quickly turned to disgust, shaking her head like she couldn't believe that my mother was that evil. I warily met my brother's eye and I saw the familiar tremble. The shudder of the storm inside him threatened to be unleashed. To destroy everything in his path.

  "I just don't get it," Leila whispered. "It doesn't make sense. Why would she do something like that? How could she do something like that?"

  My hand wouldn't stop shaking, remembering how cold she'd been. How she talked about entitlement and justice and family in the same breath as admitting that she had essentially trafficked someone. "You can't treat my mother like she's one of us. Like she's human." I put down the glass before I dropped it and it shattered. Like any and all hope that I could have a relationship with my mother. That she could be a grandmother to our children someday.

  "Well, I have my answer." Cole's voice was cold as ice.

  Leila whipped to face him, imploring. "Please don't do something you'll regret, Cole. She's your mother!"

  "Just because someone spreads their legs and pops a baby out nine months later doe
sn't make them a mother," he snarled at her. "She gave me away without batting an eye. When her decision came back to haunt her and I went to her for help she laughed in my face. Now, Jacob tells me that she sold my sister to that fucking prick." His voice shook but I knew his resolve was solid. "I don't owe that woman anything."

  Leila didn't give up, taking a small step toward him. "But revenge isn't the answer-"

  The sound of glass hitting the far wall cut her off. I knew he wasn't aiming at my wife and his anger was for our mother, but I started toward him regardless. He would not disrespect my wife.

  Leila gripped my hand, squeezing it tight. "No, Jacob. There’s been too much violence." I tugged against her, but she must have dug deep because her grip was iron. She forced me to look back at her. I looked into the deep brown eyes that knew me. That loved me. I snuffed out the anger and breathed before I turned back to Cole.

  "I know you're upset-"

  "Upset?" he spat. "I am so far beyond upset, Jacob. She needs to be put down."

  "Put down?" Leila repeated incredulously.

  She darted around me and my heart lurched to my throat as she powered toward my brother without an ounce of fear. I still hadn't shared the extent of what happened in Paris. She didn't know what he was capable of, but I did.

  I rushed to move between them, but she was faster, practically toe to toe with Cole. Every bullet he fired went off in my head. If he hurt my wife...

  Like Leila could read my mind, her voice rang out as clear as a bell and as fearsome as a gun.

  "He's not going to hurt me."

  The anger didn't disappear, but Cole's chest stopped pumping up and down like he wanted to tear someone's head off with his teeth.

  "Put her down." Leila repeated the words again, slowly rounding out the syllables. "Do you hear yourself? Your mom is not an animal. Can't you see the cycle of violence? You and your sister hurt me, Jacob hurt you, your mom hurt your sister—now, you're going to hurt your mom? When is it going to end? When we're all dead?"

  I heard her words. On some level they made rational sense. But she hadn't seen Brittany in that room at The Estate. She wasn't in the car after we got her out, watching a brother break down because his sister was violated. She didn't see the nothingness in my mother's eyes when she admitted that she was the one that set Brittany's nightmare into motion.

  There was a quiet resignation in my mind that whispered that the rules of right and wrong were fluid, had to be fluid in this case. When she peered at me over her shoulder, I knew she was hoping I'd back her up. I'd defend my mother, or at least say something to give Cole pause.

  I didn't have anything to say.

  The emotion that filled my wife's eyes in that moment broke my heart. I knew she wasn't just crying for my mother; she was crying for us too. It was a beautiful gift...Leila's kindness and forgiveness, against all odds. It should have been a raw, beautiful moment. Instead, I just felt sad.

  My mother didn't deserve a single tear.

  By the time we turned our attention back to Cole, the elevator dinged, letting us know that he was headed down to the garage.

  He was going to our mother.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  "Have you lost your mind, Jacob?"

  I knew her question had nothing to do with the way I darted in and out of traffic, headed back to my mother's home.

  Her question was a rhetorical one, but I was still trying to work my way through an answer. There was a part of me that felt that my mother was finally getting her comeuppance. That whatever dark plans that simmered in Cole's head, whatever needs itched in his fingertips, were exactly what she deserved.

  But there was another part of me that made me drive like a madman. This wasn't like before, when the threat of my brother was just that—a threat. I knew what he intended to.

  He was going to kill her.

  Considering I was breaking all kinds of traffic laws and narrowly avoiding catastrophic collisions, you'd think my wife's ire would be aimed toward how reckless I was being with our lives, but she was content to focus on what happened at home.

  "When Cole marched out of the elevator this morning, I could see right past the GI Joe bullcrap he was trying to feed me. It must be something in your DNA where you guys think you have to be hard all the time or someone might see that you have emotions and can be hurt."

  I clenched my jaw and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. It did the trick and I kept my retort to myself.

  "From the way you're strangling the wheel, I take it you know there's truth in what I'm saying." She didn't wait for me to acknowledge it, which was a good thing because I had no intention of doing so. "Back to what I was saying—Cole stormed in all, 'where's Jacob?'" She deepened her voice and even though my eyes were on the road I sensed her puffing out her chest. "He talked about how your time was almost up and if he had to ask Alicia questions he wouldn't ask very nicely."

  I went rigid, realizing that in my efforts to minimize the importance of my brother's text threat I'd forgotten to share that he'd texted me at all with Leila.

  "Imagine my surprise when he tells me that he sent you some text with an allotted amount of time in which...what? What were you supposed to accomplish?"

  I laid on the horn, probably holding it for s moment longer than necessary. I glared at the other driver and put my eyes back on the road. "He wanted to know the truth."

  "So you get the truth," Leila pressed. "She did it. You tell him. And then what?"

  "And then he knows," I said acidly, deflecting the daggers she flung my way.

  "You're aware that just sets her up for failure, right? That he just wanted a reason to charge forward and make someone pay for what happened to Brittany?"

  The light flickered from yellow to red but I gunned it through. "What do you want me to say?"

  "I want you to admit that there's a part of you that wants him to hurt your mother."

  It was more than easy to admit that to myself. Saying those words out loud, to my wife, meant taking the ugliness and putting it on display.

  "What does admitting that accomplish?" I fired back. "I'm here now, flying to her rescue."

  "Because whether you can admit it to yourself or not, there must be guilt that comes with that. A guilt that's misplaced. And the only way those kind of negative emotions lose power is if you talk about it. Work through it."

  "I didn't know this was a therapy session or I would have brought my journal."

  Fuck. I knew that was low. Leila was only trying to help and me getting defensive and taking my anger out on her was not only unhelpful, but unfair.

  I reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry."

  I didn't deserve it at all, but she squeezed it back.

  We finally broke through the city, the ride from here a straight shot to the suburbs.

  The urgency in my gut still ran wild. I knew my brother had a short fuse. He wouldn't play my mother's little game. He wouldn't even bother with questions since he already had the answer he needed.

  I pressed the gas anxiously.

  Leila's hand found my knee, but she didn't give me some nonverbal admonishment about slowing down. When I glanced over at her I didn't see a wary look that said we wouldn't be much good to my mother if we were dead. I saw support and patience.

  If she could stand by me through the storm we'd already weathered together and find a place in her heart for forgiveness and empathy, I could share the vulnerability that made me go see my mother.

  "I didn't go to her because of Cole's text. I didn't even go to her to learn the truth." The part of me that I kept under lock and key; the optimistic and hopeful piece that embarrassed me, that held me back—I laid it out for her to see.

  "This is going to sound completely ridiculous, but I wanted to believe the lie. I wanted to look into her eyes and see some flicker that she didn't, couldn't have done what she did." I let out a bitter chuckle as I relaxed back in my seat, the weight of carrying the fool's hope finally
lifted. "I wanted to believe that my mom was someone that she's not. A good person. A redeemable person. I’m man enough to recognize my moments of stupidity."

  "You're a lot of things, Jacob Whitmore," she said softly. "Stupid is not one of them."

  "You're sweet," I answered flatly.

  "No, I'm right. Most of the time." She gave my knee a playful set of squeezes before she sighed. "It is completely rational that you hoped your mom didn't do this. You love her. We want to see the best in the people we love."

  "She has no 'best'," I said darkly. "With Alicia Whitmore there's only her interests and her motivations. Anyone else is irrelevant. There's nothing redeemable-"

  "Okay, I let that fly right on past the first time around but I can't let it go again. No one is irredeemable, Jacob. No one is hopeless."

  "Maybe you haven't been properly introduced to my mother." Why did she feel this urge to defend the indefensible? To defend a woman that would gladly send her to the slaughter.? A possible explanation came to mind, one that I knew came from a place of anger but it was out before I shut it down. "Are you looking at this through the lens of Cheryl? My mother is not your mother. Your mother's only crime is that she loves you fiercely and that love comes out in inconveniencing ways. My mother's crime is that she paid money to make someone's life a living hell."

  "Wow."

  It was only one word, but it made my world stand still. The air changed, turning into something suffocating. Something toxic that filled my lungs with every breath.

  "You think this is about me comparing our mother's? Really, Jacob?” She shook her head in disgust. “You must think I'm stupid."

  "No," I said firmly. We were a few minutes from the house and I didn't want to spend those minutes arguing or projecting my frustration on her when she was just trying to help. "I'm sorry. I hear what you're saying, I do. But you don't know my mother. You've got a big heart-"

  "And I'm just some peace and love, big hearted fool, right?" she sliced in bitterly. "You think so, Cole thinks so. Somehow in this scenario I've become the ridiculous one. Your brother plans to do God knows what to your mom and you're acting like she deserves that. It's like you've completely forgotten Dublin." Her voice broke in pieces. "Your brother did something horrible and you were ready to kill him. I thought we made progress. I thought-"