Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (117 page)

Jeremy smirked. “If you were a chicken,
this might be easier. You could just lay an egg for Asher and let
Beatrice sit on it.”

“That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having sex
with him,” I blurted out.

Jeremy nearly died laughing. “You really
need a boyfriend or something. Pining after a married billionaire is
probably not the best use of your time. You know it’s never going to work
out, right?”

I frowned a bit. It was true, but…
“Probably. I know.”

“Ah, well, they used to say the world was flat,
too. You never know?” Then, holding out his hand to help me
off the couch, he said, “So, food?”

“Can we have the cheesecake first?” I
asked. “And then our meal. Then more cheesecake, maybe.”

Jeremy lifted me off the couch. “Are you
pregnant already? Should I get you some pickles and ice cream, too?”

“Ugh, no.” I jumped up and ran to the
door. “Actually, do you think they make pickle cheesecake? I
bet they do somewhere. I don’t want any, but I think that’d be
interesting to try. At least once, you know? To say you did
it.”

“I think I’d rather never say I tried pickle
cheesecake,” Jeremy said as he opened the door for me. “Let’s
stick with the caramel pecan turtle variety.”

…

Dinner was nice. Jeremy and I talked about this
and that while we ate. I relented and accepted the fact that dessert
should come after dinner, but not without a bit of a fight. Not much of
one, but a little. It didn’t matter too much, since my Santa Fe salad and
grilled chicken and avocado club sandwich more than made up for the lack of a
cheesecake appetizer. The cheesecake was delicious, though; I ordered a
piece to go.

And then Jeremy paid for dinner with one of Asher’s
credit cards. I felt bad and I wanted to pay, but I didn’t have a lot of
spare money at the moment.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Jeremy
said. “As long as we bring back something for Asher, he won’t
mind. He’s a cheesesteak and apple crisp sort of guy, so I’m sure he’ll
be happy.”

“I guess,” I said. Still, that didn’t
make me feel better about it.

We left. In the car, Jeremy said, “I feel
bad sometimes, too, but that’s how Asher likes it. I mean, what are we
supposed to do? He gets upset if he finds out that I paid for something
like this on my own. And then what? I feel bad all over
again. It makes him happy to pay for food and stuff like that, so why not?”

I sighed and tried not to frown, tried to think of it
from Asher’s point of view. “I suppose. It
is
nice to
treat friends sometimes. Me and my friends do that. We don’t go
anywhere fancy, though. To the movies or whatever, that kind of
thing.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “It’s almost
the same, I think. Kind of.”

Once we arrived back at the Landseer estate, Jeremy
tossed me a key. “There you go, lady. Your very own key.
Don’t lose it, it cost two bucks.”

“Whoa!” I said, pretending to be
impressed. “Big spender.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grinned.
“I’m going to bring this food to Asher. I’m sure I’ll see you
tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I waved and Jeremy waved back, then he started walking
down the gravel pathway to the main house. I stood in the chill evening
air for a moment, holding my take-home cheesecake container, thinking. I
had a lot to think about lately. I was probably doing too much, I
decided. Too much, except I felt compelled to do it all, too.
Something, a feeling, maybe women’s intuition. Or maybe just naive
stupidity. Either one probably fit.

Trudging towards the guest house, I shuffled my feet
and kicked at the gravel walkway. My casual heels scuffled against the
hardened path when I kicked at it with the toes of my shoes, and my progress
towards the house was slow but it gave me a little more time to think. If
Beatrice saw me, she might think I was some child or something. Look at
Jessika. What is she doing? She’s ruining perfectly good shoes and
acting immature to boot.

Oh well. I didn’t really care what she
thought. She couldn’t be much older than me, and yet she acted like she
was. Except, of course, when I heard her in the bookstore. Then she
sounded happier, almost chipper. Granted, she was with Solomon and plotting
against Asher, so it wasn’t exactly the right kind of happiness, but I knew she
could be a different person. Why wasn’t she, though?

I opened the door to Asher’s guest house with the key
Jeremy gave me and stepped inside. Kicking off my shoes and leaving them
to the side, I locked the door and left the key on the kitchen counter.
Now what? Life was so hectic and today had been more hectic still.
I desperately needed to relax.

The library sounded perfect, so I went
downstairs. Flipping the light switch on, I breathed in deep and admired
the shelves around me. It really was a perfect kind of place, I
thought. Not the best ever, nothing like a classic library, but it was
quaint and quiet and hidden away. The perfect spot for relaxing. It
was a good place to think and prepare.

Right now I just wanted to read, though. I did
like the book I’d browsed through the other day, so I decided to look for the
first.
Kushiel’s Dart
, I guess? I assumed Asher had it, and
it was probably somewhere by where the second book had been, but I didn’t
notice it when I first checked. I walked over to the shelf, one of the
ones in the middle, and scanned through the bindings looking for familiar
script.

Maybe it was on one of the bookshelves to the left or
right? The one on the right was the shelf that swung open, the one that
Asher came through the other night. Quite a surprise, that; I hadn’t
expected anything like it. I perused the shelves, looking for the book,
and…

My God. Everything fit. I didn’t know how
I hadn’t thought of this before.

The bookshelf swung open somehow with a mechanism
built into the floor. I’d seen the casing and watched Asher push it into
place that night after he’d slipped through. And obviously the hidden
doorway behind the bookshelf led to a passageway that went to the main
house. Presumably only Asher knew about this, or maybe a select few
others. It seemed like the kind of thing he might keep secret, though how
should I know?

That didn’t matter so much, but what did matter was
the privacy of it. The passageway was a perfect route into the main
house. I could use it to sneak in without rousing suspicion or making
myself known. And, once inside, I could go to Beatrice’s room and look
for any clues or evidence about her and Solomon’s plans. On her computer,
or paperwork in her desk, or whatever. I didn’t know what exactly I
needed to find, but if I could do this thing and get inside her room I thought
I might find something.

Maybe if I was lucky there was a hidden door in
Beatrice’s room, too. I imagined some fancy wardrobe like the children in
The Chronicles of Narnia
used, with a loose backing that opened up into
Asher’s secret pathways. Probably not quite as magical as C.S. Lewis’s
version, but curious nonetheless.

Also, there it was. I snatched up
Kushiel’s
Dart
and carried it over to the blanket-covered couch. Plopping onto
the cushions and covering myself with blankets, I opened the book and started
to read.

This was going to work, I told myself. Read
some, relax, rest up and give myself time to think, and then tomorrow when
Asher left for work and Beatrice went out to do whatever she usually did, I’d
sneak into her room and scope the place out.

I was positive I’d find something. What was the
worst that could happen? A lot, actually. I needed to be very very
careful.

His Absolute Passion

*

I peeked past the window curtains in the master
bedroom on the second floor of Asher Landseer’s guest home, waiting and
watching. I’d declined an invitation for breakfast from Asher(and
supposedly Beatrice, though I doubted she wanted me there) in order to do
this. Jeremy came to ask, since Asher was busy with a phone call at the
time. Before Jeremy left, I made sure to ask if Beatrice and Asher were
going out for the day.

“Asher?” Jeremy had said. “Yeah,
of course he is. Work and everything. It’s not even a job to him,
it’s practically an obsession. I think Beatrice is leaving, too. I
don’t know for sure, but I doubt she’ll stick around. She doesn’t like to
stay in one place often if she can. Why?”

I made up an excuse. I forgot exactly what I
said, but I’m sure it made no sense. Jeremy rolled his eyes at me and
laughed, but left it at that.

He knew to some extent. He knew that I wanted to
try and figure out what Beatrice Landseer and Solomon Royce were up to.
They had a plan, something to do with ruining Landseer Enterprises and then
subsequently running off together after Beatrice divorced Asher because of
false accusations. I was a part of those accusations, or so I guessed.
They wanted to denounce Asher for infidelity all while committing the exact
same act.

Granted, Beatrice and Solomon wanted to do this
without evidence, or mere circumstantial facts. I doubted it’d be too
difficult to do, either. I
had
agreed to act as an egg donor and
surrogate mother for Beatrice, which made the idea of Asher and I sleeping
together a simpler concept to swallow. Neither Solomon nor Beatrice knew
that Asher and I had actually slept together already(technically only twice,
for what that was worth). None of this really helped my case. I
knew I shouldn’t have done it, knew I shouldn’t have tempted him, but, my God,
it was so difficult.

It was even easier when I learned that Beatrice cared
nothing for Asher. Why should he stay in a marriage like that? He
didn’t know it yet, but he wouldn’t be staying in it for long. And then
what?

It didn’t matter. I didn’t care what happened in
the end, if Asher hated me or wanted me to leave or whatever; it didn’t
matter. Because this wasn’t about that. Asher was, more than
anything, someone I cared about. Silly, maybe, because I hadn’t known him
for too long, but I didn’t care. We talked, we understood each other a
little. I wanted to understand him so much more, too. I wanted to
be there, to be someone he could count on, to listen to him and for him to
listen to me, to share with each other.

What I really wanted was for Asher to be happy,
though. And what Beatrice intended was to absolutely destroy every single
hope and dream he had. She lied about her infertility, she lied about who
she went on her constant vacations with, and she’d lied at their wedding
ceremony. She must have promised, must have said the vows,
to love and
honor him every day of her life
. Except she’d never done it, not
once.

Maybe Asher hadn’t loved her like a husband should
love a wife, but he at least tried. He wanted to make Beatrice happy, and
he did everything in his power to do it. He let her go, let her do as she
liked, and the only thing he wanted in return was a child. She’d stolen
that away from him, too, paying off a doctor to lie to Asher and tell him that
she was infertile. Still, he never gave up hope, never said anything bad
about her.

It infuriated me. I clenched my jaw, thinking
about it, getting worked up and annoyed even further. I almost missed the
cars leaving the parking garage out front.

The first was Jeremy, who was driving Asher to
Landseer Tower. They both sat in the front seat this time, as opposed to
when Asher and I had sat in the back seat while Jeremy drove us from the
Japanese restaurant to Asher’s guest home the first night I’d ever visited
here. I watched them drive off, chatting amicably to one another, saying
this or that. I wondered if maybe they were talking about me, if Asher
wanted to know how I was, why I’d missed breakfast, and if I’d said anything
about him.

Then, after Jeremy drove away through the gated
entrance, Beatrice pulled out of the garage. She drove herself.
Easier to keep her schemes a secret if she didn’t have anyone tagging along
with her, I thought. She wore wide-lens sunglasses and looked pissed off
for no apparent reason. Not that this was any different from how she
usually looked, but it was almost comical seeing her like this. In a car,
alone, driving away, and mad. Mad that she couldn’t just be rid of Asher
right now? Mad that she couldn’t divorce him for no reason and expect to
take half of his assets afterwards? Yes, probably, and also mad because
she was a bitch. That’s just how those types of people acted.

I knew I shouldn’t think that, no matter how much I
disliked her. My mother would highly disapprove, anyways. But
sometimes, vulgar or not, people needed to say it like it was.
Right? Beatrice was not a nice person and I didn’t like her because of
it.

I did like that she was gone now, though. With
her and Asher away, it gave me the perfect chance to sneak into the basement
library, figure out the secret doorway that led into an underground passage
connecting Asher’s guest home with the main house, and then find and enter
Beatrice’s room to look for clues as to her wicked plans against Asher.

I could’ve asked Jeremy to help, and I think he would
have. Except it was better this way, I decided. If I involved him,
then who knew what kind of trouble he might get into? This wasn’t a
fail-safe plan, really. If someone saw me in Beatrice’s room, that was
it. Not only would it ruin my chances at realizing Beatrice and Solomon’s
plans, but if Jeremy came with me he’d be pulled into this, too. Without
evidence, without some idea of what they were up to, Asher had every right to
be angry with me if someone caught me snooping around his mansion.

And I didn’t want to include Jeremy in that without
good reason. I should do this on my own and take full responsibility for
anything bad that came of it.

I took a deep breath, readying myself for what I was
about to do. Probably something dumb and insane, but oh well. And I
needed to change outfits.

I rushed to the closet and poked through the clothes
Asher had given me. I highly doubted I’d find a femme fatale spy outfit
in here, but maybe, who knew, right? And, no, I didn’t find one, but I
found a cute pair of grey sweatpants and a white tanktop. Not quite spy
material, or sneaking clothes for that matter, but I thought range of movement
for this kind of thing was important.

I slipped out of my pajama pants and t-shirt and into
the new clothes. The sweatpants clung tight to my legs and accentuated my
butt, while the tanktop was looser. For future reference as to what a spy
should look like(or probably not look like), I checked myself out in the mirror
in the bathroom.

“Whoa, this is hot.” I spun
around. I had some curves! I imagined going for a jog with Asher,
teasing him as we ran on a path through the woods, then coming back here
afterwards. Worked up and sweaty, ready for more, he’d toss me onto the
bed and peel these very sweatpants down my legs, revealing my glistening
sex. And…

Alright, no time for that. I pulled myself away
from the mirror and trudged into the bedroom, acting the part of a woman
determined. Putting on some sneakers(for sneaking), I bounced downstairs,
then down another set of stairs, and ran to the middle of the library.

I knew which shelf moved out to reveal the hidden
doorway, but I didn’t know how to move it. It wasn’t really a thing that
Asher explained, or cared to talk about. He just kind of showed up one
night, surprised me, pushed the bookshelf back into place, and then…

And then we’d done some things. Some things that
I shouldn’t think about right now, because I needed to focus on the task at
hand instead of riling myself up.

Maybe one of the books? I poked and prodded at
every book in the bookcase, pulling them out and pushing them in, thinking
maybe it was like in the movies. How did that even work, though? It
looked cool on the big screen, but the logistics behind it made no sense to
me. More likely there was a keypad or remote somewhere, and through my
vast knowledge of spy movies I realized exactly where it should be.

I scanned the book spines, checking them
carefully. Yes, that one was fine, and that, and that, and…

Yes! I pulled a hardbound edition of
One
Thousand and One Nights
from the bookshelf and opened it up. It was
hollowed out in the center, pages cut expertly from the book. In their
place lay a remote console. I pushed the red power button at the top left
and the electronics sparked to life.

“Password?” the remote asked me in black
blinking letters.

I typed in my answer.
“O-P-E-N-S-E-S-A-M-E.”

The remote buzzed at me and blinked “Wrong
Password!” twice. A hint showed up at the top of the LCD: “Two
words.”

I tried again, leaving a space in between
“Open” and “Sesame.”

“Wrong Password!” blinked twice, then,
“Another incorrect password will lock this console and send an email alert
to the owner. Continue with caution.”

It asked me for the password again.

I should have shut it down. I should have turned
it off and put the book back where it belonged. Obviously the password
wouldn’t be something so simple! Granted, the remote was in the book with
the story about Ali Baba and his forty thieves, but still. That part made
sense and was clever in a cliche way, but making the password the same as the
story was just asking for trouble.

So, then, what was it? If I answered wrong,
Asher would know what I’d done, or planned to do. And then what?
Would he think I wanted to steal from him? What could I tell him?
Nothing. I had no real reason I could give him that would explain why I
wanted to use his secret passageway to sneak into his main house. If I
told him about Beatrice and Solomon without evidence of their wrongdoings, then
he’d think I was crazy.

And, that was it. No more. I wasn’t anyone
special or important. I was Jessika Fevrier, some woman way in over her
head. I was nothing more than a woman who enjoyed books(perhaps a bit too
much), and had fallen head over heels in love with a man who was so far above
me it was ridiculous. What did I have to offer him? What could he
possibly gain from me? Asher was rich, a billionaire, and while Beatrice
didn’t love him, she at least came from a good family. She was
well-educated and traveled and knew a lot about traversing the upper echelons
of society.

I was Jessika and I was clumsy and when I went to put
One
Thousand and One Nights
back into the bookcase I dropped it. The book
slipped out of my hands and began its descent to the floor. I stared at
it, caught off guard and surprised. The book opened on its way downwards,
flipping around so the pages were revealed to me, facing up. It thudded
onto the carpet and beeped at me.

“Password?” it asked.

I stared at the book. If the book could, it
probably stared back at me. This was something, something important, and
I thought I should know it, but I wasn’t quite sure.

“No way,” I said, but I had to try it.
Stumbling to the floor, not even bothering to pick the book up, I pressed in
the password.

“D-A-N-T-E-‘-S I-N-F-E-R-N-O.”

The remote beeped and the bookcase clicked. The
shelves popped out, sliding away from the wall on the unhinged section, enough
for me to grab a handle on the side. I pulled the bookcase the rest of
the way, opening the whole thing and revealing the hidden doorway behind it.

“Wow,” I said. “Wow. I’m
good.”

Good or lucky or I don’t even know. It didn’t
matter right now. I had access! Access into the passageway, access
into the main house, and hopefully access into Beatrice’s room. I’d
guessed the password out of sheer luck and fate, but I still had a lot more to
do.

I opened the door into the hidden underground
passageway and stepped inside.

…

“Asher,” Jeremy said while driving to
Landseer Tower. “Do you ever think something’s up? Maybe
something’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Asher asked.

“You know, like with Beatrice? She’s always
gone. She’s not very friendly with anyone. I mean, she’s a little
more friendly with you, but not by much…”

“I don’t know.” Asher sighed.
“I thought maybe it was how everything happened at first. Maybe she
didn’t expect it to turn out this way. I know I didn’t, but it’s not all
bad, right? I try to give her space and I thought she’d come around, but
it never happened. I don’t really know what to think now. I’m still
trying, though.”

“Yeah, but why? I’m not saying you should divorce
her or anything, but why not talk to her? Like, maybe divorce would be a
good option, even. If you’re both not getting what you expected out of a
marriage, then it’s not a terrible thing to cut your losses and go your own way
with no hard feelings.”