The Billionaire’s Ultimatum: His Absolute Need(44)
Author: Cerys du Lys

We left a stain, I noticed, smiling. Nothing too obvious, but I knew where and what to look for and saw it immediately. I laughed thinking about it, thinking, and…

I burst into tears. This was really too much and I needed to stop doing this to myself. I ran into the bathroom and grabbed my things, then ran out just as quickly and shut the door. Making a beeline for the bureau, I held my hand up to the side of my head to block my view of the bed. I only had a few of my own belongings here and I snatched them up from the bureau, then stuffed them into my empty duffel bag laying limp near the bedroom door.

That was everything, that was it. I left the bedroom and closed the door behind me, unwilling to look back.

I raced out of the house as quickly as I could, out and into the open air of the estate grounds. I wanted to ask Jeremy to drive me home, but I realized I couldn’t. I needed to walk, because otherwise he’d tell Asher and I didn’t know what Asher would do.

I trekked to the front gates, quick and frantic, and tried to push them open but they wouldn’t budge. Jeremy always opened them with a remote on the dashboard of the car, but they should open some other way. Some button, or something on the inside, right? I dropped my bag and went to the side of the gate to look for the opening mechanism.

I found it, pushed the button, and the gates began to open. As soon as I picked up my bag, the gates began to close again. I dashed towards the button and pushed it once more, but before the gates even opened an inch, they started closing again.

Off to the side I saw Jeremy, remote in one hand, phone in the other. He was doing something with his phone while making sure the gates remained closed. I tossed my bag onto the ground and stomped over to him.

"What do you think you’re doing?" I asked.

"What do you think you’re doing?" he replied.

"I’m leaving."

"Why?"

"Because," I said. "I don’t belong here, Jeremy. I shouldn’t stay here. Asher’s better off without me. I don’t deserve any of this. This isn’t…"

Asher stumbled out of the house. He wasn’t in any serious pain, nor did he have any serious injury, but I knew he was more than a little out of it after what had happened only an hour or so ago. He sprinted across the grass, along the driveway, towards where Jeremy and I stood.

"What’s going on?" Asher asked.

"She’s leaving," Jeremy said. "Apparently. I don’t know."

"That’s right," I said. "I’m going home."

"Why?" Asher asked. He looked so upset. Why was he upset?

"I can’t do this, Asher. I just can’t do it." I was crying. Why was I crying? "I want you to be happy, but I can’t do it! I need to leave before I change my mind. Please tell Jeremy to open the gate for me."

Asher grabbed me. He bent down and swooped me into his arms and I kicked my legs and flailed my hands.

"Let me down!" I screamed. "You’re going to hurt yourself!"

"If you don’t stop moving so much, not only will I drop you, but yes, I’ll hurt myself."

Because he was an idiot and wouldn’t listen to reason, I stopped moving. Why did he have to do this? It didn’t change anything. I bawled, tears streaming down my face, completely and utterly lost in my depression. This shouldn’t happen. It just shouldn’t.

He carried me inside, all pretense of following the paramedic’s orders gone. He carried me through the hallways, to places I didn’t even know existed. I hadn’t spent a lot of time in his main house and it was all so foreign to me, so fancy. Pictures on the walls and elegant carpets under our feet. Expensive vases on fancy tables sitting in front of windows as pure decoration and nothing more; no flowers, just vases. Asher carried me through his house until we reached one large set of doors, then he kicked them open and marched inside. Only then did he put me down.

"I don’t understand why you did that," I said. "I wish you hadn’t."

He went back to the doors and closed them, pulling on the ornate, gilded handles. Clicking a latch shut, he locked us inside.

"Look," he said.

I looked, for all the good it would do me.

He’d brought me to a library. It was nothing like the one in his guest home, and yet something like it, too. Entirely different, but still very much comfortable and cozy. A hearth off to the side, large enough for four people to lounge in front of it, lay waiting for winter and a cozy fire, with people sitting in front of it and toasting marshmallows. The bookcases were different, extravagant, with rolling ladders perched on the sides like something out of classic literature. Mahogany tables cluttered with books and candelabras with half-used candles, and writing pads and old-fashioned quills, plus new pens and a few pencils.

Plus books; a million books. Hidden in a corner was an ancient-looking card catalog, with a desk and a reference computer next to it. Did Asher really have a computer just to keep track of all of his books? Probably, yes, and it did seem useful.

The library in his main house was massive, a two-story affair with an open center. I glanced up for a moment and saw catwalks on the second "floor" of the library, with stairs leading up to them, going all the way around the perimeter of the room. More shelves up there, more books, more everything. It seemed so magical and I thought for a second that I’d fallen asleep on the couch in his guest home and dreamed all of this.

In the center of the library I saw a small dais with a broken book placed reverently atop it. A glass dome covered and protected the book. It was a copy of Dante’s Inferno, the one I’d ruined the first day Asher and I ever met.

"You can’t leave," Asher said.

"Why not?" I asked, somehow managing to push aside my tears. "There’s no point for me to stay," I said. "Every reason I initially came here for is gone now, so I think it’s best for me to go."

"No," Asher said. "I want to hire you."

"Hire me for what? I don’t want to be your assistant anymore, Asher. I don’t want to do that. And even if I did, I can do it from my own home. I can go into work like everyone else. I don’t need to live here."

Asher furrowed his brow. "Jessika, I…"

"What, Asher?" I asked. "Give me one good reason to stay, because I don’t think there are any."

"I love you," he said, fast; too fast. "I do. I thought you knew that, and…"

"You don’t," I said. "You love the idea of me. You loved that I was willing to give you children, and you love that I… I don’t know what you love, but you don’t love me."

"No," he said. He moved towards me but I moved away.

"Stop," I said.

He didn’t stop. He kept coming and I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to hide. I stood pressed against a bookshelf, trapped, with nowhere to go.

"Jessika," he said. "I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care about children, or money. If I lose everything, so be it. I understand that it could happen. I take that risk every single day and I realize that no matter what I do, sometimes it’s impossible to succeed. You risk everything, but for what? I enjoy it, my work and my business, but if everything suddenly came crashing down, as it almost did today, I could live without it."

"I don’t understand," I said.

"I don’t want to live without it, but I could," he said. "I couldn’t live without you, though. Not now, and not ever. You mean so much to me. I want to know everything about you. I… will you go on a date with me?"

"You’re asking me on a date?" I asked, trying not to laugh, crying as I did. "I think it’s a bit late for that."

"No," he said. "It’s never too late. It’s always possible. I want to go on a date with you now, and next week. In a month from now. In twenty years. I’d like to ask you out on a date when we’re both old, with gray hair and wrinkles. Good wrinkles, though, from smiling too much and laughing."

"Asher," I said, hesitant. "Please don’t do this."

"I’m doing it," he said. "I need to know your answer. I’m sorry for pressuring you, but I need to know."

I stood there, quiet, knowing full well I had to deny him and leave. I needed to.

"Yes," I said, a quiet utterance. Louder, I repeated myself, "Yes." I stepped forward, fell into his arms. We went to the ground slowly, huddled together. "I’m so scared, Asher. I’m so scared. I don’t know if I can do this."

"I know," he said. "I’m scared, too. Please, just give me a chance, though. Please?"

Through my sobs, I asked, "Will you give me a chance, too?"

He kissed me, lay me on the soft carpets in the library and pressed his lips to mine. I melted and all emotion abandoned me except for Asher’s love and affection. Why had I wanted to leave? I knew full well why, but I was lying to myself about the reason. I didn’t want to leave just for Asher, I wanted to leave for me, too. This was so new and unknown and before when it was more of a secret and private it felt different and safer, but now that it was open and public I was afraid.

We lay on the carpet and cuddled and kissed, and I don’t know when exactly it happened, but I fell asleep in Asher’s arms, my lips touching his, comfortable and close.

…

Beatrice and Solomon were arrested and went to jail. More of a high profile place than anything, and likely far more comfortable than they deserved, but Asher never wanted them to be in serious trouble in the first place. He couldn’t understand what had pushed them so far, but he knew it wasn’t up to him to forgive them, either. They’d entrenched themselves too deeply in illegal activities to dodge federal offenses, and there was nothing more he could do.

To help out, Asher had paid the exterminator costs for Robert’s daughter, too. It seemed like the least he could do for the man after causing such trouble in the back room. The first day after the arrest, Robert was shaken up, but after that he seemed peppy enough about it. Later, the bookstore owner said that all the news coverage and publicity surrounding the shop caused a boom in business. Asher grinned when he heard that.

He went to visit Beatrice in jail sometimes, too. He knew he shouldn’t, but he went anyways. She was actually friendly with him now. Her father never came to visit her, no matter how hard Asher tried to convince him. It only seemed to solidify her point towards him that day in the bookstore. He tried not to think about it.

And, actually, it was Beatrice’s idea for him to take Jessika to the Solage Calistoga. She’d already made the reservations and while he could cancel them easily enough, why waste it? Not that he needed Beatrice’s validation, but she said Jessika was nice and that maybe she was wrong. Maybe nice people were fine, and maybe you didn’t have to be rude to people all the time in order to throw your weight around and force them to respect you.

It was very strange seeing Beatrice like this, but he liked it. They wouldn’t get back together—in fact they’d already signed divorce papers and she’d agreed to it readily—but he thought that after she served her time in prison they could become friends. Maybe they were already friends now.

Jessika visited occasionally, too. Asher left her alone in the room with Beatrice once when Beatrice asked him to. He wandered through the hallways, going to the guest cafeteria. It was a sparse, utilitarian place, but he liked the hot chocolate they served. He ordered two cups(one for Jessika later), sat on a screeching metal chair at an empty table and waited.