The Billion Dollar Contract: The Executive Collection (49 page)

“
Why
?”

Why? Why would he have to ask that if he really loved her? “For weeks now I’ve felt that from you. That you love me. Don’t deny it. I can tell from the way you touch me. The way you kiss me, for fuck’s sake.” She tossed a hand into the air and felt it slap her hip on the way back down. “No man would invite me over for snuggles and a shitty movie he’s seen five-hundred times because it’s always on TV if he didn’t
love
me. And yet you are incapable of saying it. You know why?”

Ethan tried to keep his poker face. “Why is that, Jasmine?’

No, that wasn’t the way she liked to hear her name. There was a bite to it, yes, but not the seductive kind. This was the defensive kind. Ethan’s teeth were out, ready to keep her at bay should she try to fuck with his emotions. Boy, he better make sure they were sharpened. “Because you know that you can dump me as soon as it gets heavier than hot. That you don’t need to keep my emotional baggage around. That the moment you start to get hotter in the heart than the dick, you can dump me before it gets too
real.
Six months. That six months isn’t to save you in case we’re not compatible. It’s to keep women like me in their place. We’re not your girlfriends. We’re not your potential spouses somewhere in the future. We’re your current trophy to decorate places like this. Well you know what? Sometimes I think your money isn’t even worth it. You talk about getting your money’s worth? What is my worth? Why is it about getting
your
money’s worth? Fuck that! What use is it if I’m using all that money you’re paying me to get therapy?”

“Jasmine…” He put up his hands, in defense, to try to calm her down. Didn’t work.

“Do you love me?” She stuck her finger in his chest. “Tell me the truth. If you really love me,
say it.
”

For a moment she thought he was going to do it. Say he loved her. His lips parted, his eyes widened, and his hands lowered to his side. For that briefest moment hope swelled in Jasmine’s heart. Here it came. What she knew. What
he
knew. For once, no more games. None!

Ethan closed his mouth again. All that hope? Gone.

And so was Jasmine.

She picked up her coat, her purse, and slapped both over her arm. “Unbelievable,” she muttered. “You’re so fucking unbelievable. I’m done.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Before he could put a hand on her, Jasmine shrugged him away and stomped toward the penthouse door. When she stepped through it, she had no idea if she would ever return.

32

Jasmine didn’t go to work the next morning. Or the next.

Since starting to work for Ethan, she had never once called in sick. She was late a couple of times due to the bus, but never, ever had she missed an entire day. Not even when she caught a small cold that had gone around the office and made her sniffle for a full week.

There were many reasons for this. For one, Jasmine had the kind of work ethic that would send her to work even with full-blown cramps. She would whine about it, pop some pain pills, and go about her day, but she always made sure to show up on time whenever she could and do her job as requested. It was the right thing, instilled in her by her parents, who worked on farms, in co-ops, and all sorts of things that demanded physical labor all day every day. Even when she was working her temp jobs, Jasmine always did her best to get a good recommendation. The same had definitely applied when she came to work for Ethan.

But things were different now. Jasmine had hoped that going to sleep that one night would set her mood right again. She even went to sleep chanting on her breath, “Three million. Three million.” Her worth.

Yet she woke up the next morning feeling lower than filth. What was the point in getting up and going to work when all that would do was send the message to Ethan that he could do whatever he wanted, she would rail against it, and things would go back to normal? As time went on, Jasmine became weary with their deal. Not even her love for Ethan could overcome the feelings of insecurity. And then there was the fact that he clearly loved her as well, but not enough to make a statement of it.

“It’s not like I wanted to tell the whole world and throw a party in my honor,” she said to Blackbeard over dinner one night. He crunched on his kibble and the scraps of chicken she tossed him. “I just wanted him to say it. And obviously to mean it. I thought I could do it with just the money to lead me on, but I don’t know anymore…”

She knew how absurd it sounded. From the beginning, she knew what she was getting into. Money in exchange for sex. Jasmine had fallen into the oldest profession in the book. What did she think was going to happen? Respect? Eternal love? She laughed into her salad, lettuce spilling all over her splintered table. So what if the sex was great? It didn’t mean anything.

No, the hardest part about all of it was how little she meant in the long run. How could she ever delude herself into thinking that they would renew their contract indefinitely? Was that the kind of life she wanted to live? Originally she was going to take the money and run, letting Ethan Cole hire the next beautiful woman he came across. But now the thought appalled her. How could she just walk away from that? How could she do it without breaking her heart and wishing she were anyone else but herself? The money could only pay for so much happiness. Sure, the debt would be gone. She could move elsewhere, far away. But it couldn’t pay for all the therapy in the world — because she would need it.

The money. The parting. Ethan Cole clapping her on the shoulder and saying, “Job well done! You suck cock like no other!” Then he’d walk away, hitting on the first woman who struck his fancy, offering her a contract to do what Jasmine just did. Out with the old, in with the new.

She thought about the woman who came before her a lot. She didn’t know who she was, what she was doing now, or how Ethan affected her, but she thought about her at least once a day.

Jasmine conjured up the image of a woman not too unlike herself. Maybe skinnier. Maybe blonde. Smaller tits, though.
What? I’m being realistic.
This woman could have met Ethan in any number of ways. Maybe she was a waitress at a restaurant he patronized. Maybe a stewardess for an airline he flew first class in. Or maybe she was like Jasmine, in that he randomly saw her somewhere and summoned her to his great, private office where he offered her the deal of a lifetime.

This woman took the deal with some trepidation. She considered herself a good girl, the kind who would have never otherwise thought of prostituting herself to even the most gorgeous billionaire on the planet. But then offers like that come up, and how can a single woman down on her luck say no?
Because he takes advantage of us.
The woman in Jasmine’s imagination fulfilled both roles in her life: that of Ethan’s personal assistant, and the woman he took to bed at night. Over time, she fell in love with him, and nothing could be done about it.

The woman lived in bliss until Ethan dumped her by refusing to renew their contract. Dejected, the woman tearfully took her money and escaped into the great, wide world. Worth it? Who could say? One day Jasmine would gather up all of the women Ethan had ever paid for and write a powerful memoir about what a jackass he was.

These negative thoughts stewed inside of Jasmine’s heart as she tried to think of anything but. Anything. Anything at all. But no matter what she did, what she watched on TV, or what videogame she played, she couldn’t help but think of the man who had affected her life in such a way. And how she had barely affected him at all.

A sense of being misused. A sense of being misunderstood. A sense of worthlessness. Thrown together, and Jasmine was likely to do something very, very stupid that she may or may not regret for the rest of her life.

33

It started with a glance.

Jasmine walked into Jackson-Cole the next morning, dress tight and lips pulled tighter. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet. All she knew was that she would make sure Ethan never forgot her.

There was a meeting for the board of directors that morning. Since Jasmine had called in sick for two days in a row, Nadia had filled in as de facto personal assistant and took care of the files for the meeting. She looked askance at Jasmine as the real personal assistant walked through the doors, but she didn’t have a word or signal to share. Not with so many men and women in suits filing in and out of the executive office to have such an important meeting.

Jasmine refused to make eye contact with Ethan, who asked right away if she was okay. “Peachy,” she said with a spit. She sat down at her desk, opened up the Wikipedia page, and edited it to say that Ethan had an adult baby fetish.

She felt vindicated enough to smile at the computer screen. Now she could go about her day again. At least until the next wave of self-hatred overcame her.

That didn’t take very long. While Ethan was in his meeting, Nadia assisting him, Jasmine went into her boss’s office to pick up some work. It wasn’t unusual for her to do this while Ethan was otherwise busy, such as out at a late lunch. She had a key to his office, after all. So why shouldn’t she go in there and do whatever the hell she wanted?

“Hello, Jasmine.”

The moment the door closed, Jasmine felt something scurry down her spine.

It was Jackson, sitting on the couch that she and Ethan had made love on more times than she could count. This was the most casual she had ever seen him, reclining with his hands dangling from his arms and his foot twirling in the air as his leg rested on top of the other. The grin on his face was nothing short of creepy. “It is Jasmine, isn’t it?”

She went to Ethan’s desk, ignoring the business partner. Maybe if she ignored him long enough, he would go away on his own.

Of course it never worked out that way. The more she ignored him, the more intrigued he became with her.

“Oh come on now, what’s wrong?” Jackson stood, his long legs moving gracefully through the air – like sharp, serrated knives slicing at nothing. “Ethan told me you’ve been gone these past couple of days. Sick?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Jasmine sifted through a stack of papers on Ethan’s desk, looking for anything that she could take back out with her. It would give Jackson too much satisfaction to think that he had ran her out of the office.

“…Sick of your little arrangement?”

Jasmine dropped the papers and looked up at him. The smirk on his face could kill a nun. “Shouldn’t you be in the meeting?”

“I’m sitting out of this one. I figure if you can shirk your duties, then I can too.”

“I haven’t shirked any duties.”

“Heard you haven’t slept with your boss in a while. Isn’t that your number one duty?”

“You seem obsessed with that.”

“Forgive me, my dear, but that’s the most interesting thing about you.”

Jasmine stood in front of Ethan’s desk, her blood turning to ice and her brain working at a mile a minute. When Jackson put a hand on her shoulder, she snapped, her elbow landing in his side and her voice echoing in the office as she told him to fuck off.

She stomped out of the office, slamming the door behind her as she disappeared into the copying room. The same room that Ethan insisted they have sex in not so long ago.
Pervert.
Jasmine snatched a piece of paper from the tray and then marched back out to her desk, where she grabbed a marker and wrote the first thing that came to her mind.

Before Jackson could catch up, accuse her of assault, or God knew what else, Jasmine flew across the office, her feet taking her straight to the large windows looking into the board meeting. She slapped the piece of paper against the nearest pane and waited for the inevitable.

Her presence was enough to make everyone at the table look up, their jaws dropping and their heads turning to one another in search of an explanation. Nadia let out a gasp audible enough to pierce the windows.

And Ethan. That poor schmuck who had no idea this was coming.

“THE BOSS PAYS ME TO FUCK HIM,” Jasmine’s little present said. The look of disappointment and shock swarming Ethan’s face was enough to give her the strength to crumple the paper in her hands and drop it to the floor. She took in that look for one more second before turning on her heels, going to her desk, grabbing her things, and walking out of the executive office, presumably forever.

34