The Billionaire’s Ultimatum: His Absolute Need(20)
Author: Cerys du Lys

…

At the end of the day, I found myself in Solomon Royce’s office, alone. He hadn’t tried anything further after his attempt at forced seduction on his couch, for which I was grateful. Though, to be fair, I hadn’t spent more than a minute in his presence after that, either. Always busy, always moving. I did what he asked and hurried out of his office as fast as I could. Now, though, he’d left, and I was waiting for Asher.

Solomon hadn’t said anything before he left, he just did it. I saw him leaving his office as I was walking down the hallway to get my next task from him. He saw me, gave me a curt nod, then walked away. I had stared after him for awhile, watching him enter the elevator, and when I was certain he’d left I went into his office to wait.

Not on the couch. I didn’t want to go anywhere near his couch. Instead, I waited by his desk. I sat in the office chair facing the window. Not a great view, but the skyline looked nice from here. The setting sun lay somewhere off to the side, but the sky in front of me contained a myriad of oranges and yellows. I stared, thinking, wondering what I should do.

I decided I couldn’t tell Asher about what happened. Maybe it was a fluke? Some office game? Did they hire strippers for newly returned executives sometimes? I doubted it, but perhaps. Probably not. But, either way, if I told Asher, it would cause issues. Asher needed and trusted Solomon to do good work, and from everything I knew the man had performed well over the years. Also, maybe Solomon had an arrangement with his regular assistant, Daphne? Some sexual agreement? How should I know? If he assumed Daphne primed me on that, and told me what to expect, then that was understandable.

Actually, none of it was understandable. No matter what, Solomon Royce shouldn’t have done what he did. It wasn’t excusable and I hated myself a little bit for trying to rationalize his behavior. The point stood, though, that if I told Asher he would probably do something about it. What that was, I had no idea. The obvious solution would be to remove me from the equation, since I was likely of little business use to someone like Asher Landseer.

I didn’t like that idea. I wanted to be important, something more, but at the moment I couldn’t. And yet, why would I want that? For who, too? It wasn’t that I wanted it, per se, but more that I didn’t want Asher to have a good reason to not want me around. I had very scant few reasons for him to take notice of me as it was, so giving him even less would ruin that.

Except, was that the kind of person Asher was? No, not really. Asher was a businessman, a billionaire, and the CEO of a company. He was a husband, and a reader, and a lover of silly old movies like The Goonies. He liked Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Dante’s Inferno and The Time Traveler’s Wife. He liked pizza with chicken and feta cheese and tomatoes and onions, and he was controlling sometimes, a bit demanding, but not without reason. Unknown reasons, hidden somewhere in the depths of his mind, but I never doubted that he had very specific and important reasons for every single thing he said or did.

Or, maybe not everything, but most things. Sometimes he talked regularly, as if he were an average person. Casual conversation. We’d stayed up late last night talking about nothing important, but it was fun and amazing. I knew his favorite color(blue) and that he didn’t like raisins, especially in cookies. He knew that I liked to read and wanted to review books as a job, and that I realized I probably couldn’t make a living off that but that I loved it anyways. I’d even shown him my small website with some of my book reviews, too. On his smart phone, he browsed through it, humming and hawing as he looked at what I’d done.

He never made fun of me for any of it, either. He didn’t say it was dumb or useless and he seemed genuinely interested in what I did. Maybe it was dumb and useless(in fact, I was fairly certain of it), but it was my passion and so he accepted it. He accepted me in some ways that I’d never really felt accepted before. I felt like I could tell Asher stupid things that were important to me, and probably no one else. Things that sounded silly and trivial, except he wouldn’t laugh or mock me. He would listen and nod and understand.

I stared out the window at the skyline, thinking these things. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bottle of perfume sitting on Solomon’s desk. Tucked away in a corner, behind a short stack of books, looking quite out of place. I reached for it and picked it up and looked at the front.

Ambre et Vanille parfum, it read. Emblazoned on the front was a French woman’s name, somewhat like my own but probably entirely different. I didn’t know a lot of French and the flowery, calligraphic writing made it hard to read. Unstoppering the bottle, I sniffed at the perfume.

Interesting, I thought. Very feminine. Did Solomon have a lady friend he intended on giving it to? Or—and this was odd of me to think—had he intended on giving it to me? A way of apology? For some reason I couldn’t even begin to imagine that; it didn’t seem in his character, what little I knew of him. I stoppered the bottle and put it back where I’d found it.

The window, staring, thinking, and…

"Jessika?" Asher poked his head into Solomon’s office, knocking lightly on the door as he did. "Are you finished?"

I stood up and faced him, smiling. "Yes, I’m all done. I was waiting for you."

Asher grinned and beckoned for me to come. I walked across Solomon’s office and joined him in the doorway. He took my arm in his, very gentlemanly, and escorted me down the hallway and to the elevator.

"Was everything alright?" he asked. There were other people in the building still, but none leaving right now. When the elevator dinged, the doors opening, we had the entire six-by-five foot compartment to ourselves. "Solomon can be confusing at times," he added. "I hope he wasn’t too difficult."

I gulped, briefly reconsidering what I’d decided. I should tell him; I wanted to tell him. And yet when it came to it, I said, "He was fine. I managed to do everything he asked."

Everything, I thought, except for the first thing. And I was very, very glad of that.

…

Jeremy drove us home and Asher brought me back to his guest home. Once inside, he said, "So, if Beatrice agrees, then I think it would be best if you stayed here during… everything. Would that be alright with you?"

I glanced around the guest house, pretending to think about it. Alright? It would be perfect! This place was wonderful, and then—as much as I tried not to think it—I’d be closer to Asher. If his wife left again, like he said she did often, he and I could spend more time together. Watch movies, order pizza, maybe even go to fancy Japanese restaurants. Not that I needed anything excessive, but I couldn’t imagine Asher taking me to a hotdog stand and ordering a chili dog. I would absolutely love it if he did—I’d love going anywhere with him, really—but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing a billionaire would do. I’d be perfectly happy staying in, both of us reading quietly next to each other. I could write up a book review and post it on my website and then show him after. And…

"Yes," I said, perhaps smiling too widely. "Of course that would be fine. I actually really like it here."

"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 hav**g s*x 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.