Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (107 page)

“I’d hope so,” he said with a hint of a
tease in his voice. “You did refuse to leave, so there must have
been a reason.”

Yes, I thought. You. But I couldn’t say
that. I couldn’t tell him any of it. He must know by now, must have
realized it, but because of his wife and his marriage we couldn’t talk about
it. No matter what I felt, those feelings couldn’t exist.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. His
voice trailed off.

I looked at him, head tilted slightly to the
side. “Yes?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell Beatrice
about what happened,” he said.

“Oh.”

“Not that I agree with what we did or accept it.
It can’t happen again, please understand that. But I think it would
complicate matters. Needlessly. Do you understand? I don’t…
Jessika, I really don’t want you to think that I’m trying to excuse what
happened. I just think it would be best if we both understood what
happened won’t happen again, and press forward. Are you alright with
that?”

“Well, I certainly don’t want to tell her, so I’m
fine with it!” I said, teasing. He looked so serious, and I
understood why, but I thought adding a little lightheartedness to the
conversation might help.

“Me either!” he said, grinning. He
became solemn again and added, “But, I would. If I thought it would
help, and if I absolutely needed to, then I would tell her without a moment’s
hesitation. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I really think it won’t
be necessary, though. We’re both adults and we should be able to
understand that and act responsibly.”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Of
course.”

Responsibly, I thought, which did not include secretly
giving Asher a blowjob while he slept. Granted, he shouldn’t have gotten
me off on his meeting room table in his office, and I shouldn’t have seduced
him into having sex with me during our photography session and he shouldn’t
have…

We probably shouldn’t have done a lot of things.
We probably shouldn’t even be in the same room together now, nor should we
discuss not telling his wife about anything, but we were and it seemed like he
had come to some internal decision about all of it, with personal and valid
reasoning. I could go along with it.

I didn’t really want to go along with it, but what
could I do? I wasn’t a home-wrecker and I refused to become one. I
was, of course, rationalizing this right now, too. Asher didn’t want to
tell his wife about his infidelity and I didn’t want to tell Asher that I
wanted him to strip me down, drag me to the shower, and have slippery wet,
soapy sex with me, so it seemed we were on even ground.

I was, perhaps, a horrible person, but I tried not to
think about it.

He helped me do that with what he said next.
“Dinner will be soon. Beatrice is freshening up. I asked
Jeremy to find some clothes for you, so they should be in the closet in the
master bedroom upstairs. I don’t know what he bought, but I told him to
find a good assortment so you’d have a few choices.”

“Asher…” I started to say.

He stopped me by placing a finger on my lips.
“Shh. I’m going to shower and change for dinner. Whatever you
want to wear will be fine. Come to the front door of the main house once
you’re ready. I’ll tell Jeremy to wait for you and he can show you to the
dining room.”

Asher lifted my hand up and before I knew it he kissed
the back of it. His lips, soft and supple, pressed against my knuckles
and I nearly melted. So small, nothing of any real meaning. His
fingers holding mine, touching lightly against my palm. Slight moisture
from his lips leaving an imprint on my skin. Then he hugged me tight and
I hugged him back, squeezing. I didn’t want to let go of him, but he managed
to escape my embrace and walk away. To the door, opening it, outside,
and…

“I’ll see you soon,” he said.

I said nothing as he left. I didn’t know what to
say, but I really didn’t want him to leave. Even if nothing happened, I
would have liked him to stay and wait and while I changed into new clothes he
could sit on the bed, or the couch, or downstairs in the library and then we
could go to dinner together.

It was silly, really. Reluctant to leave the
kitchen, but knowing I had to, I went upstairs to the master bedroom.
Heading to the closet to see what Jeremy had bought(and expecting a couple of
outfits), I was overwhelmed. Completely empty before, save for a bunch of
hangers, the closet was now utterly filled with clothes. Dresses, pants,
blouses, pajamas, nightgowns, shoes lining the floor. Even a few fancy
woman’s peacoats tucked off to the side on sturdy wooden hangers.

This was just for dinner, so probably nothing fancy,
right? I grabbed a pair of jeans and a nice looking t-shirt. Plus,
my God, I belatedly noticed a note on the back of the walk-in closet
door. “More in the dresser,” it said. Going to the
dresser I found pantyhose and socks and stockings and underwear, and…

I stared in one drawer, blinking. What.
Jeremy left another note atop a pair of frilly, lacy red panties. Panties
in as much as they would definitely cover me, except they were so lacy and
small that they wouldn’t actually hide anything. Though obviously I’d
wear them with pants, and… they had a matching bra? Yes, I found out as
I followed more of the note’s directions. The bra hid a bit more, but
barely, and it was one of those that would enhance my assets, as it were.

“Wear these,” Jeremy had written on the
note. “Asher loves red.”

“You’re a troublemaker,” I said aloud, even though
Jeremy obviously couldn’t hear me. “I will wear them, but not
because of that. I’ll do it because I feel like it, and nothing
more.”

Nothing more? Yes. That’s what I told
myself.

I cleaned up and put on the lingerie, then the jeans,
the shirt, and a pair of casual heels that matched the pants. There were
regular shoes, but I liked the idea of having a little bit of style. The
panties and bra were a part of that, yes, but no one could see those. And
sitting at the table, no one would really see the heels, but they made me feel
better. Sexier and more confident.

And then the time came. I went downstairs, to
the guest house door, opened it, out, and started the short walk to the front
door of the main house. Outside, Jeremy was leaning against the wall,
toying with his phone.

He tapped some keys, gritted his teeth, tapped some
more, then said, “Dammit!”

“What?” I asked, approaching him.

“Oh, nothing. Pacman. I lost.
Not that I’m very good in the first place, but I was doing pretty good right
there.”

I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to
be waiting for me? Was playing games a part of that?” I said,
playful.

“Pft. You took so long that I needed to
find something to do.” He looked me over, spied the heels.
“So… did you?”

“Did I what?” I asked. I knew what he
meant(the underwear), but I wasn’t about to dignify his absurd question with an
answer.

“Come on,” he said, nodding deliberately at
my chest. “Did you?”

“Excuse me, but are you flirting with me?” I
asked, feigning contempt.

He laughed. “Right. You did,
then. Let’s go.”

He walked to the door and opened it for me, gesturing
for me to go inside. I followed and went, but not quietly.

“I did not!” I said. “How would
you know, anyways?”

“I can tell by the way you’re acting. And walking
around. I can just tell.”

“No you can’t,” I said, turning my nose up
at him. “You’re just guessing and hoping that I’ll tell you.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so. Now stop harassing me.”

“Ooohhhh.” His eyes twinkled and he
grinned. “Miss Bigshot now, eh? Nice clothes, lacy, see-thru
panties, fancy high heels.”

I pushed him lightly. “Shut up.”

He laughed. “Anyways, it’s this way.
Come on.”

He brought me to a room the size of a basketball
court. Inside, taking up most of the space, was a huge dining hall
table. It looked like something that belonged in a castle, preferably
owned by royalty but a major duke and duchess would do, too. Dark
mahogany legs peeked out from beneath a cream-colored, silken tablecloth.
I gaped at it in awe.

I stopped moving. Jeremy poked me in the
shoulder a few times to prod me on, but I was still somewhat in shock.
Giving up on social etiquette, he grabbed my arm and pulled me onwards to my
spot at the table. Despite it being so large and taking up most of the room,
only a few places were set at the far end of the table. Jeremy pulled out
my chair, dumped me in it, pushed it in, and then grumbled.

“You’re a huge pain, you know that,” he
said.

“Shh,” I said. “I’m admiring the
table.”

“Right. Well, I’m leaving.”

I must have looked like an idiot, but I didn’t
care. I pulled at the table cloth, toying with it between my
fingers. It felt so smooth and delicate, but strong, too. At my
parent’s house, whenever we had Thanksgiving, they put out a previously fancy
tablecloth, but it was nothing like this. Tattered around the edges and
with faded remnants of past spills soaked into it, it made the rickety table
look nicer, but almost anything would. This table probably didn’t need a
tablecloth to look nice, but it looked extravagant and amazing with one.

A woman entered the dining hall from a door on the
opposite wall from where Jeremy and I came in. She wore a velvety formal
dress with a dark chiffon overlay and looked ready to attend a ball. Her
high heels tapped a martial cadence across the buffed wood floor as she made
her way towards the table and me. She stared at me for a moment before
clearing her throat loudly.

I thought she meant to say something, perhaps
introduce herself, but she didn’t. A man came out of nowhere, rushed to
the chair in front of her, and pulled it out. She flashed him a fake
smile, lowered herself into the chair, and allowed him to push it in behind
her.

“You,” she said once seated, “are, I
assume, Jessika. I have heard about you from Asher.”

“Yes,” I said. “Everything you
heard was good, I hope.”

I laughed. She didn’t.

“I am Beatrice,” she said, giving me a
strange look, presumably for laughing. “Asher’s wife. I’ve
heard what I need to know about you, though I don’t care much about hearing
more. You understand our situation, and that is enough. Asher
desires children, to which I can’t begrudge him that. Unfortunately I
can’t provide him with any, as you should be well aware. I am reluctant
to acquiesce to any formal agreement between you, him, and I without first
discussing the matter in more detail, though.”

As she sat there, talking, I noticed something
odd. Nothing about her in particular, besides her favored formality for
this particular situation, nor about her clothes, that seemed far more proper
than necessary for a casual dinner, but there was a smell. Not a bad
smell, not at all. Actually a very nice one. Feminine and sweet,
thick like chilled caramel, with a faint hint of oranges and cinnamon, vanilla
and… something else. I thought I recognized it, but I wasn’t sure from
where.

“You aren’t dull, are you? I mean that in a
nice way, so please don’t take offense. You do have intelligence,
correct?”

A perfume shop, I guessed. Or something like
that. I must have smelled it when I walked through some store that was
showing off a new type of perfume. Likely one that was too expensive for
me, especially if Beatrice was the one wearing it, so I probably hadn’t given
it any further thought until just now. That made sense.

My thinking didn’t help me to sway Beatrice against
thinking I was an idiot.

“Well?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was distracted,
I…”

“This isn’t a point in your favor,” she
said. “Does ADD run in your family?”

“Um, no.”

“Do you have a history of debilitating
diseases?” she asked.

“I graduated with a BA in English Language and
Literature,” I said, trying to ignore her. “I received good
grades.”

“Not a very valuable degree,” she said,
speaking more to herself than me. “I’m not a fan of creative sorts.
Asher loves novels, but I don’t see the point. You don’t gain much from
them.”

“I disagree,” I said. “You
can…”

“What?” she interrupted.

“I mean no offense, but I politely disagree that
you don’t gain much from them.”

“It wasn’t,” she said, “a point of
contention. There is no disagreement, but merely absolute facts.
Fortunately Asher has good enough sense to manage his business life admirably,
so he can afford to waste
some
time with frivolous entertainment like
reading fiction, but…”

“Beatrice,” Asher said from behind me.
He walked into the dining hall wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a casual,
button-down shirt. “Jessika is our guest. Let’s try to at
least give her a little time to get comfortable before bombarding her with
questions.”