The Billionaire’s Ultimatum: His Absolute Need(33)
Author: Cerys du Lys

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 <space> 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.