Chapter Three
I nestled Hope in a cherry red crib flanked by lush greenery and memories. Off a rustic, cobblestone path, Allegra had her very own garden of Eden. I leaned against the iron recliner, the hazy smell of jasmine swirling around me.
“I could get used to this,” I sighed, letting my eyelids drift closed. I was finally in a vacation state of mind. Living in this moment and putting everything else—every worry, anything that didn’t involve the company of a woman that was doting on my daughter (even when she was fast asleep)—out of my mind.
“I think Aurora would agree,” Allegra chuckled, settling in beside me after she rearranged a plant to give Hope more shade. “She’s ready to propose to your husband.”
“She’s adorable,” I smirked, remembering how Jacob had scowled into the camera as she snapped so many selfies that he got whiplash. “And she’s the spitting image of her mother.”
“Mmhm,” Allegra grunted, settling her shades over her olive colored eyes. “And just as stubborn.” Aurora’s photo session with Jacob was cut short when her mother reminded her there was still work to be done to get ready for the dinner. Aurora had muttered a string of annoyed Italian before Allegra gave her a glare that sent her on her way. My Italian was still pretty rusty, but I didn’t need Rosetta Stone to know that she was mouthing off.
I leaned over and brushed a sprinkle of curls that spilled onto Hope’s forehead with my fingertips. “I already feel like she’s growing up too fast.” I said softly, melting at how serene and peaceful she looked. “I want to protect her from the world.”
“Sì,” Allegra nodded with a rueful smile. “When you’re a mother, trouble lurks around every corner. It’s enough to make locking her in a tower seem like a genius idea, huh?”
“With a full security detail below,” I added with a snort. “Away from the rest of the world. Away from...” I mimed snapping a picture.
Allegra poured two fresh glasses of wine. “I try and avoid the newsstand these days, but from your reception at the airport, I take it all is not well.”
That was a bit of an understatement. With everything we’d been through, aggressive paparazzi seemed like a molehill compared to the mountain of drama we’d encountered. The mountain of shit that was waiting right outside of the De Luca’s iron gates. A part of me just wanted to drink wine and talk about anything but my life, but there was no escaping it. And if anyone could understand the emotional turmoil of being hounded by people who didn’t have your best interest at heart, it was Allegra.
I took a sip of wine, letting it coat my tongue. “It shouldn’t surprise me since Jacob and I can’t seem to stay out of the news to save my life, but it’s just-” I gripped my wine glass with both hands, trembling as the emotion I was struggling to keep a handle on simmered. I couldn’t escape the impending doom, like this was some volatile thing that would boil over at any moment. “This time, it’s on me.”
Allegra shook her head ferociously. “Leila-”
“I wish I could pass the buck, Al. But they’re only stalking us because my ex is back in the picture. I though ignoring him and downplaying our history, was the way to go. But now the whole thing has grown into a genuine scandal.”
She studied my face and took a sip of her own. “If you want to talk about it, I’m a pretty good listener. And, as you know, I’m no stranger to scandal myself.”
I picked at invisible lint on my leggings, even though I already decided I’d pick her brain. Jacob was already in fix-it mode. From the snippets I’d gleaned on the jet, he was setting up a meeting back at Whitmore and Creighton, to flesh out a response and action plan. Before I could join him in taking on Corbin Wolfe and the miscarriage that never happened, I had to just get it out to someone besides my warrior husband. Say the words until I could utter them without wanting to strangle Corbin. Without wanting to strangle myself for not climbing up on the stage when we were reunited.
I should have told the whole world that I knew him because he was the first man who ripped my heart from my chest. Taught me how important it was to safeguard that beating, pulsing thing in my chest from the wolves who dressed in sheep’s clothing. Speak out about the asshats who sang songs about happily ever after and love while they shat on the people who cared about them when the lights went down.
“He was my first real boyfriend. I mean, I dated in high school,” I shrugged dismissively. “But it was so one dimensional then. Folded up letters and kisses beside my locker and next week, we’re both bored and wondering what we have in common besides going to the same school. Growing up in the same town. But with Corbin, it was different, from the start.” I looked up at the sky, the sun warm on my face. At the beginning, he made me feel like a woman, as cliche as that probably sounds.”
“Those first loves,” Allegra sighed ruefully. “So sweet, passionate and consuming—until the fire goes out.”
“Our fire was instant,” I confessed, biting my lip as I thought back to our first kiss. How the world stood still, then went into turbo drive like a carnival ride, complete with colors and sounds whirring all around me. “Those first days we were inseparable. We talked about everything. Our families, our crazy ass dreams, music...it was like a waking real life fairytale. When it was just he and I, it was cloud nine, but looking back, there was always a part of me that knew that I was falling in love and he was-” I threw both hands up in surrender. This was no longer a secret pain I needed to bury. “He was biding his time.”
When I took off the rose colored glasses, I was still lying to myself. We didn’t talk about everything. I talked about everything. Even back then, he kept me at arm’s length, even when his arms were wrapped around me. The only time he was unfiltered and raw was in public, when I got a real look at him. How badly he needed to be noticed. To be desired. To be the center of attention.
I put my glass down, turning to Allegra. Both of us had our shades on, but I felt like we were eye to eye. Staring into each other’s souls. Without the walls and the fear, a truth dawned on me.
I loved Corbin, but he never loved me. How could he? He was too busy trying to fix the holes in himself to love anybody else.
I hadn’t even gotten to the meat of the problem, why we were dodging the paparazzi, but I had to make a detour. I had to hear her story, because it was why we were sitting here in the first place. There were parallels with our journeys. My heartbreak put me on a different path. The right path. The road that led me to Jacob. Her heartbreak steered her to a different path as well.
“When did you know that you had to end things with Carlton?”
The words just poured from my lips, but Allegra’s lips were pressed together, her face hardening to stone.
Worried I’d offended her, I furiously backpedaled. God, Leila. She invites you to celebrate her wedding anniversary and you remind her of the man who shattered her heart?! “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate-”
“Va bene—it’s okay, Leila.” She gripped my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Carlton is a part of my story. A painful part , but it also brought blessings my way.” She counted them off. “Angelo...Aurora...Jacob...you...Hope.” A tear coursed down her cheek and she wiped it away and cleared her throat. “Here’s the thing about the past: you can’t ignore it. You give it teeth when you put it in the dark and shut the door. You give it power over you. The only way to be freed of it, of the pain, is to embrace it.” She pulled off her shades and rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, they were red with emotion. Not sadness. Not regret. Just...life. What happened, happened. And she wasn’t afraid to look at it dead on.
“So there are no closed doors to you.” She gestured around us. “Not in my home, and not in the past. Capisci?” She didn’t wait for me to confirm, taking a hearty hit of red wine before she put aside her glass. “When did I know I had to end things with Carlton? That’s an easy one...and I’m sure if I asked you the same, you would tell me-” She arched her brow, leaving a blank space for me to fill.
“Corbin,” I offered gingerly, giving her a look over the rim of my shades.
“You knew Corbin was not the one before you accepted the truth for yourself.” She finished gently. “I knew that Carlton was wrong for me from the start. There was the obvious: he was married. That was the only red flag that should have mattered, but I don’t have a time machine and it does no one any good to marinate in regret. I chose to ignore the wedding band and all other signs that pointed towards disaster.” She looked down at her hands, wringing them slowly. “For the longest time, I convinced myself that loneliness was the culprit, but the truth is, I was more lonely with Carlton Whitmore than I was when I had no one.” Her face was rife with pangs of anger. Reopening old wounds. “But you didn’t ask me for our sordid love story, did you? You wanted to know when I decided to pull the plug.
I decided I was tired of rationalizing things. Making excuses to myself. Holding on to something that was rotting my insides. Bringing me more misery than joy.” She eased out of her chair and made a slow circuit around the garden, gently caressing the leaves of the plants in her garden. “I can remember that day like it was yesterday. It was here, actually. My parents were preparing for a cousin’s wedding reception. My mother was dashing around the place, a nervous wreck because she kept finding things out of place. Which, in my mother’s opinion, is a bad omen and cause for histrionics. How she and my father didn’t drive each other utterly insane is beyond me. He was steady, carefree, whatever will be, will be-”
“Que sera, sera,” I interjected, drawing a smile from her.
“Exactly. She’d already driven everyone else away with her perfectionism, including the guests of honor,” She flashed me a sad, faraway smile. “I watched them, my mother crying, ready to cancel the whole thing. My father rose up from his chair. He didn’t say a word, he just went to her, took her face in his hands, and kissed her lips. He hummed the melody from her favorite song and they rocked for a few moments. Then, he helped her. Gathered the flowers and the tablecloth and whatever else she asked for, no matter how minuscule or silly. I couldn’t tell you if the party was a hit or not, but none of that mattered. He put her first. He rejoiced in what mattered to the woman he loved. I knew in that moment that even if some fairytale occurred and Carlton left his wife, he would never be that man. It didn’t make him a bad or evil person...it just wasn’t who he was. And I knew that after I saw my parents that way, I could never settle for a man that couldn’t get outside of himself for long enough to just stop and rock with me in the kitchen.”
I pulled off my shades, my fingers shaking. Like my chin, when I tried to suppress the sob that rippled through me. “Thank you for sharing that, Allegra.”
She blushed, waving away the compliment. “You’re welcome. It was a painful thing to realize, but it led me to end things and to find a love that made me feel whole again.” She rounded back to me, lowering back into the chair. The way the sun hit her, a halo seemed to appear above her head. Nothing saint-like, just a feeling that blossomed in my chest that told me this was a safe place. That there was something healing in telling my story too.
“Well, like you, I knew that something was...missing with Corbin pretty early on,” I began, fiddling with the arms of my shades. Remembering one of our first dates, at the park on a bright day like today. Watching him over the edge of a different pair of shades as he paused on his trip to the car to get a book I’d forgotten. Some woman with a dog had caught his eye and he forgot everything so he could soak in the attention. He forgot about me. “I always seemed to take the backseat in our relationship. I tried to convince myself that I was overreacting. That it was harmless flirting. But I ignored something huge. Corbin made me feel hollow. And whenever I tried to explain that I needed more, he just shrugged it off. Said that he went home with me. And that should be enough. It wasn’t.” I bit my lip as tears stabbed my eyes. “The moment I knew I had to end things was when I thought I was pregnant. Waiting for the results was-” I choked on the tears that filled my throat. “I was so terrified. But more than that, I was alone. And when it was negative, I knew that I had a choice. I could stay in this unhealthy relationship where I was mostly happy and ultimately alone, or I could end things and find a love that lifted me up instead of tearing me down.” Once I got it all out, the sprinkling of tears was a full-on flood. I sniffled, swatting my cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for being vulnerable,” Allegra shushed me, leaning over to hug my neck. She retreated, beaming in my direction. “Our vulnerability is our strength.”
I repeated it like a mantra, but I still slipped my shades back on. My shield. “Thanks, Al.”
She poured more wine in my glass, and I didn’t stop her. “So, this Corbin is back in the picture?”
“Yep,” I groaned. “And he’s stirring up all kinds of drama, talking about miscarriages and that I’m the love of his life, blah, blah, blah.”
“Ugh,” she shuddered. “So it’s still about him.”
“Always,” I bit off, the flash of anger returning. Twisting my gut. “Ignoring him has only made this thing take on a life of its own. So when we return, I’m gonna have to address it, whether I want to or not.”
“You’re gonna be okay,” she told me with a finality that I wish I felt. “At the end of the day, he made his choices, and you made yours. No matter what lies or drama he tries to create, just look at what you have. A husband that loves you dearly. A daughter that steals the heart of everyone she meets. And if you all need to escape, you will always have a place here.” Her face went serious. “Don’t lose sleep on Corbin. He’s still searching for something, and he hasn’t found it because he hasn’t figured out that no one can fill the holes except him. Don’t pour yourself out for him. He had his chance in the sun and he chose darkness. Don’t let him poison your well with resentment. Just be honest. With him. With yourself. And-” She held up her glass. “Whatever will be, will be.”
*
“ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE ready for this?”
I knew Jacob meant well, but I couldn’t help but give him an arched eyebrow for that question. “Let’s see, in the last twenty four hours, I managed to survive the Italian press pursuing us all the way back to the airport like we were in a Bourne movie, avoiding the internet like the plague all weekend, and an Italian teen who would have run away with you in a heartbeat if you just said the word.” I squared my shoulders as we hit the executive floor. “I can handle this meeting.”
Jacob walked right past my digs about the paparazzi and the internet, probably because he did no such thing. He had a couple of choice pictures floating around on the web that featured him flipping them the bird, and one where he was practically choking an especially rude photographer. Luckily, Allegra and Angelo intervened and got us onto the jet with no bloodshed. My husband was never big on social media, but he spent the duration of our flight back to the US responding to as many tweets as he could stomach. Taking on every armchair critic and therapist who tried to trash talk me or give unsolicited advice on what we should do next to ‘save our marriage’. I didn’t bother telling him it was a losing battle for fear that I’d end up in his crosshairs, but it was enough that this meeting was being called in my honor. I couldn’t have him treating me with kid gloves in front of the group. I’d handled worse than Corbin Wolfe. I was gonna be okay.
And maybe if you say that enough times, it’ll be true.
Jacob was holding back, but I marched off the elevator like a woman on a mission. Natasha was behind her desk, her eyes flitting up to meet me, then dropping back down. She wouldn’t be in attendance, but she looked ready to go into battle nonetheless. Her pale hair was pulled into milkmaid braids and gold hoops twinkled in her ears. She had on a leather vest and a off white blouse with bullet colored buttons that matched her talons. “Good morning, Mrs. Whitmore.”
Since she usually didn’t bother acknowledging me at all, I paid it forward. “Good morning.”
Jacob was hot on my heels, still trying to save the day, even though I was perfectly fine. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”
Natasha sprang to her feet, her eyes bulging as she practically saluted him. “Mr. Whitmore! I wasn’t aware you’d be in so early-”
“Carry on, Natasha,” he said dismissively, his hand warm on the small of my back as he steered me towards his office. I couldn’t help but laugh with my eyes when her nostrils flared defensively before she disappeared from view.
“I’m fine,” I tried not to sound ungrateful for his willingness to go above and beyond to make sure I was okay. “I do need to grab a couple of things from my office-”
“Later,” he barked, opening his door and blocking the exit when I whirled to face him, the single eyebrow morphing into genuine annoyance that spread across my face.
“Look, the meeting is in half an hour-”
“I am well aware of the schedule,” he cut in, his voice matching my tone, blow for blow. “We have more than enough time for you to dash to your office and pretend you’re not stressed about the meeting—and ample time for me to make a few things abundantly clear.”
His voice was sharpened to a point that could draw blood, but his face was a different story. Those attractive, devastatingly perfect angles held no secrets. Before he even spoke his intentions, I had a feeling that whatever he was about to say would be red folder, for my eyes and ears only.
I backed up, not stopping until my butt collided with the edge off his desk. Heart racing. Not from nerves. Not from fear. Those wild blue eyes told me that Jacob Whitmore, CEO of Whitmore and Creighton, was taking backseat. Jacob, my Dom, was taking the wheel.
My body was already screaming yes. My nipples were pebbled, pressing against their lacy shackles. I had no idea when I picked the midnight sheath dress that it would be perfect for this occasion. The meeting was suddenly the least of my worries. A zipper was the only thing that held together my respectable, professional facade.
My fingers tingled, humming with anticipation. Instead of thinking about whatever choice words Missy would have to share at the meeting, I was wondering if my trembling digits would free me...or if he would do the honors personally.
I did something that I knew would force his hand. Something that would not go unanswered. “This better be good, Mr. Whitmore. I’m a very busy woman.”
His eyes flashed, the provocation poking the tiger inside him. He licked his thick, kissable lips, repeating what I said. “This better be good?” He shed his suit jacket in a single, fluid motion. I didn’t move, didn’t take my eyes off him as he walked to the chaise and draped his jacket over the back. He discarded his cuff links, making me jump when they connected with the glass tabletop. “I’m further convinced that you need a reminder of who I am.”
I bit my lip, burrowing the toe of my heel into the rug beneath my feet. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Perhaps.” He said the word like it was a curse, his mouth burrowing with disapproval. He lowered himself to the chaise, sweeping a hand over his dark locks, eyes hooded with desire. “Get over here.”
I was bracing myself against the desk, but I let go, defiantly staring him in the eye as the butterflies in my gut swarmed a different, erotic part of me. I gave him my permission, saying yes with two words that always tasted good on my tongue. “Yes sir.”
I stopped just short of the table since there wasn’t room to stand before him. He used his foot and pushed the table back just enough for me.
“Closer.”
Trembling, so filled with excitement that I could hardly contain myself, I stood within reach of him. Drank him in as he drank me in. He started at my feet, his gaze cutting back up to me.
“Shoes.”
He wasn’t being very descriptive, but I didn’t need him to be. I stepped out of my heels, flexing my toes on the rug.
He continued his evaluation. Over my hips. Rounding my breasts. “Dress.”
It took major restraint to not tear it from my body. I found the hidden zipper and peeled it off. It dropped around my ankles and I would have been content to leave it right there, but I bent at the waist and carefully draped it on the chair. Trying to remember to breathe because the air changed. It was a hot, stifling thing, rife with sexual tension. My cheeks were as red as the bra and panties that covered me.
He parted his lips and anticipating that he was about to tell me to discard my undergarments, I wrapped my arms around to the hooks of my bra.
This time, he arched an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I dropped my arms to my side immediately. “I, um...” I trailed off, my eyes falling to the floor because we both knew exactly what I was doing.
He clucked his tongue with disapproval. “I was just going to give you a mere strike or two, but clearly more discipline is required.” He reclined like he was on a throne—and he was not impressed. My imagination didn’t have to work hard to transport me to some far off place. I had one shot to prove my worth...or else. It was exhilarating, knowing that we could escape it all, even if we only had a few minutes to do so. More than enough time to melt.
To beg.
To serve.
“Across my lap.”
Jacob was a man of few words this session, but he gave me enough to make my heart fly to my throat as I obeyed. I managed to even be halfway sexy, posing on all fours across his lap, flexing muscles gained from picking up Hope and chasing her across villas, jets, and our apartment.
Exhaling, quivering, I lowered myself. My ass to him. Waiting.
“Count,” he commanded.
He gave me no time to confirm that I understood, the first strike colliding with my bottom with a THWOK worthy of the classic Batman TV show. Pain exploded on my rear end with technicolor bliss.
“One,” I eked out, twitching as he snatched down my panties, exposing my bare skin to his torment. To his desire. The second aligned with the first and I grit my teeth. “Two.”
I hissed when the wind whistled and the sting spread to my other cheek. “Three.”
The numbers came one after the other, making me squirm until we reached ten and I realized that every worry, every anxiety I was trying to pretend I didn’t feel had become a fluttering, distant thing. I was just counting. Breathing through the ache. Wet and trembling as he took me to a place that was ours alone.
“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands no longer the deliverer of pain. They were currently the source of pleasure as he kissed it better with his fingertips.
Now, I was ready.
*
I WALKED INTO THE CONFERENCE room, trying to not let the eyes filled with sympathy get to me. To be grateful they weren’t filled with silent judgment, especially since Missy Diaz was on deck.
Jacob had already arrived and was seated at the head of the table. He’d asked if we wanted to show up together, but it was important to me to walk through that door alone, like every other Whitmore and Creighton client. I pulled out the chair at the opposite end and lowered myself, my bottom still tingling from earlier. I let it flutter though me and disappear, hoping the pangs of discomfort would follow suit.
I didn’t like being on this side of the table.
“We have a lot to cover, so let’s get started,” Jacob’s voice filled the room and I swept my eyes around the table, taking in my dream team. Claudia Joy, was first, wrapped in a yellow dress that matched the warm smile and thumbs up she flashed at me. Our social media specialist, a fairly new hire with a name that matched her mysterious, color changing dress, Violet Woods, nodded as Jacob introduced her, following our standard protocol despite the fact we were all acquainted. Even Missy spared a tight grin for me before her face turned back into cement, her turtleneck dress making her swan-like neck even more so. Simone made a circuit around the room, passing out the agenda. She paused when she reached me, her voice soft but reassuring.
“You got this, boss lady.”
As Jacob called attention to the slideshow, I wasn’t so sure. The screen was filled with a magnified shot of Corbin’s face. He was grinning smugly at the camera, his golden hair cycloning around his head.
“As you are all aware last Friday, the frontman from About Us gave a tell-all interview with Buzznews.” He clicked the remote and the slide changed, the key passage from the interview blown up to kingdom come. “While his false story surely added to his own social capital-”
“I’m sorry,” Missy interjected, holding up a hand that she slowly lowered when Jacob’s gaze eviscerated her. She used a finger to adjust her neckline, like she needed some breathing room. “Just so we’re on the same page, you’re calling the story, the claim of a miscarriage, false? Because I think addressing the validity of his claim will only pour gasoline on the fire. To be frank...who cares?”
“I don’t think you’re being very helpful,” Claudia Joy jumped in, giving Missy side eye.
Missy didn’t back down, tossing her curtain dark hair with a scoff. “There’s an entire hashtag dedicated to people rooting for Leila to rekindle her romance with Corbin. People naming their child-”
“They didn’t have a child,” Jacob smoldered, the nerve beneath his eyes giving him away.
“Right,” Missy dug in. “Because there was a miscarriage.” I opened my mouth, but she gave me a cool smile, adding, “Allegedly.”
“Miss Diaz, if your personal baggage is preventing you from doing your job-”
“My personal baggage?” she fired back, then shrank a few inches when she got several glares across the table, including from the boss himself. “To not address that we all have a conflict of interest here is just foolish. Leila is our co-worker. Your wife-”
“I am well aware who Leila is,” Jacob growled, hurling lighting bolts in her direction.
We weren’t even five minutes in and the meeting was already contentious. As much pleasure watching everyone eyeball Missy gave me, she had a point. “I agree with Missy. Who cares?”
The whole room fell silent, everyone gawking at me, including Missy. She didn’t say it aloud, but her shock was telling. You think I have a point? Hot damn.
“Since Missy has already spoken the obvious, that we all have a conflict of interest here—I can go on the record and say—I care. I care about the truth. I care that this man is spreading lies about my wife, starting some new dialogue about pregnancy, miscarriages, and lost loves, when it’s all a farce.”
Claudia nodded in agreement. “I agree with Mr. Whitmore. The truth absolutely matters and I think whatever next step we take must include us setting the record straight-”
“But that puts us on the defensive,” Missy retorted. “It becomes a ‘he said, she said’ kinda thing. And right now, Corbin looks like some sort of Romeo who lost the love of his life and his child. You really think it’s wise to have Leila respond to this by calling him a liar? That’s just a surefire way to make her look like a frigid, heartless woman who rode off into the sunset with her billionaire husband and her new baby.”
“‘New baby’ implies that you are lending credence to Corbin Wolfe’s story-”
“Mr. Whitmore, I am just telling you how it is. That article has been tweeted, retweeted, quoted and shared around the world.” Missy squared her jaw. “At this point, the validity of his claim is irrelevant, because if you repeat something enough times, it’s true.”
“Which is why we need to repeat the truth.” Jacob looked ready to jump to his feet. Defending my honor.
“Our truth,” Missy muttered, just loud enough that we all heard it.
“What did you just say?” Jacob’s voice was no longer playing any games and whatever tenacity that was fueling Missy waned. She looked ready to prostrate herself, if necessary.
“I agree with Mr. Whitmore,” Claudia piped, wisely pivoting by handing Simone a folder to distribute to the table. “I think we should schedule our own interview, refuting his claims-”
“I think that’s a bad idea.”
Everyone turned to Missy, like they assumed she was the voice of dissent, but the words came out of my mouth.
I cleared my throat and sat up a little taller. “In my opinion, it is not wise to get in a pissing contest with a skunk. There was no miscarriage, but if we call him a liar, we end up looking defensive and petty.” I took a gulp of my water, trying to extinguish the flames that licked my throat as Jacob’s blue gaze fell on me, disappointment coloring his eyes. He wanted to round Corbin up and sear a brand that spelled out the word ‘liar’ on his forehead. He was too close to this, to me, to see that nothing would ultimately be gained by us calling out Corbin. Having him publicly tarred and feathered for putting me, us, in this position in the first place appealed to the vengeful, bitter part of me, but I thought back to my chat with Allegra. “There are two sides to every story,” I continued after a moment. “Right now, the only story out there is Corbin’s. Poor, budding rock star. He lost Leila. He lost their baby. But now, he’s somebody—and he has a platform. Whether he’s a liar or not won’t get us out of this. Me telling my story is.”
“And by your story, you mean the truth,” Claudia threw in with a bite that made me glad she was on my team.
Still, I didn’t go there. I couldn’t. Because despite the fact that I rarely did so, I agreed with Missy. “Our focus can’t be on the truth. I think we need to find our own avenue, and give them a Leila Whitmore exclusive. I need to sit down, pull back the curtain and tell the world what happened from over here.”
Jacob’s face was rife with a desire to make some sort of decree, but I reached out with everything I had. Hoped he could put aside his personal feelings about Corbin long enough to really hear me. Because miscarriage or not, Corbin had ultimately opened this door. He cherry picked our past, sharing his warped version of events. He left out the pain he’d caused throughout our relationship. He left out the cheating, painting himself as some sort of romantic.
I had no intention of telling a fairytale.
My tell-all would be just that.
The truth.
The whole truth.