The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (11 page)

"That's not
quite what I expected."

"You didn't
tell me what to do, you just told me not to leave, and..."

"Whoa,
whoa.  Hold on a minute.  I didn't tell you not to leave.  Let's get that out
there right now.  I didn't tell you anything."  Jeremy held up his hands
to halt me, like some police officer standing guard at a crosswalk.

"Right. 
Fine.  You didn't tell me to do anything, and so I just did whatever I thought
of.  Also, this place isn't very comfortable.  It's too clean."

"No one
comes here, that's why.  Do you think Asher has guests all the time?  He's not
extravagant like those parodies of rich people you see in reality shows.  He
has a dinner party maybe once a year, and it's more of a classy, sophisticated
affair.  None of that takes place here, mind you.  He comes here on his own
sometimes, but..."

"Why's he
come here on his own?" I asked, interrupting him.

"I don't
know?  The library?"

"What? 
There's a library here?"  I had been upstairs and down and I had
definitely not seen a library.

Jeremy sighed,
annoyed.  "Yes, there's a library.  Which I thought you'd find, but
apparently you're daft."

"I'm not
daft.  Show me the library."

"You're
really demanding, you know that?"

"I'm not
demanding!"  Perhaps I was a little demanding.  "Please, Jeremy?  I'd
like to see it."

"I don't
even know you," he said, teasing me.  "Why should I show you it?  For
all I know he specifically doesn't want you seeing it."  With feigned
reluctance, he added, "Tell me something about yourself and maybe I'll
agree to show you."

"What do
you want to know?"

He thought about
it, but only for half a second.  I assume he'd wanted to ask this all along,
but was waiting for a good time to do it.  "Why you?" he asked. 
"Why did Asher bring you back here?  I don't understand.  He won't talk
about it.  I know that... things... but why?"

"I don't
know if I'm supposed to tell you," I whispered.  "He might get
mad."

"Right. 
Just like I don't know if I was supposed to tell you that I wouldn't do
anything if you refused to come with me, or how I don't know if I'm supposed to
tell you where the library is, or the fact that I don't know if I'm supposed to
tell you I talked to him on the phone earlier and he definitely didn't sound
very happy."

"Oh,"
I said.  "Is he mad?  Do you think... um... I should leave, shouldn't I? 
I know that I..."

"Shut up. 
Yes, you probably should leave, but you didn't before so why do it now?  Maybe
this sounds like I'm trying to start trouble, but I kind of want to see what
happens."

"That's
really mean, you know?" I said.

"It's not
mean, it's honest.  He told me to tell you that I'm here to take you home
again, so if you want to go, let's go.  Otherwise you might as well tell me. 
I'll show you the library and you can leave a crumb on the rug or
something."

"I'm going
to pretend," I said, huffy, "that you're trying to help me instead of
hoping I'll cause some disaster so you can watch."

"Look." 
Jeremy sighed.  "I can't say I'm helping you, because I don't know if I
am.  I just don't really know if Asher actually wants you to leave or not. 
He's strange, alright?  Now, if you're trying to do something like embarrass
Beatrice and ruin Asher's life, then I'm not going to let you, but..."  He
gestured to the tissue in the waste basket next to the bed.  "All you're
doing is this, so I can't say I'm too worried."

"Fine,"
I said.  "I'll answer your question.  But you can't tell him any of
this."

Jeremy grinned. 
"No, of course not."

"Asher
asked me..."  I paused.  Did I want to do this?  I did, so desperately,
because I felt like this might be a way to fix things, except that made no
sense when I thought about it logically.  I was being mean to get Asher to
accept my apology?  I lowered my voice, despite Jeremy and I being completely
alone in the guest house with no way of anyone hearing us.  "His
wife—"  I knew her name now, but I found it awkward to say.  "She went
to a doctor and he said she's infertile.  They can't have children together. 
Asher asked me if I would consider being... being an egg donor, and, um, well
he doesn't think she'd want to carry a child to term, either, so I'd be a
surrogate mother, too."

"What,"
Jeremy said, blinking, barely intoning a question.

"I know it
sounds strange, but..."

"So, wait,
basically he asked you if you'd be the mother of his child?"

"It's not
really like that.  Beatrice would be the mother, I guess, but it would be my
egg and..."

"And you're
the one who gets to be pregnant.  Sounds great," Jeremy said
sarcastically.  "Why go through all that hassle?  Why don't you both just
have sex?"  He chuckled.

"That's
what I said!"  Quickly, I added, "I didn't mean to say it, but it
slipped out."

"No way. 
You didn't, did you?  Maybe that's why he's so upset.  I can understand,
really."

"No, I said
that before he was upset."

"What?"

I told Jeremy
most everything.  I left out our intimate encounter in Asher's office, because
I still didn't know what to think of it.  Punishment, Asher said, but I don't
know if he believed that or not.  I did mention the book, though, how I
destroyed his collector's edition of
Dante's
Inferno during my temporary
job cleaning Asher's office.  How he took the phone call from the doctor while
I was there, and then he broached the subject with me.  His request, out of
nowhere but like he talked about this with everyone every day, of surrogacy and
egg donation and then our lunch and the subsequent photo session and...

"Woo boy. 
So did you have sex?" Jeremy asked at the end.

"I don't
think I'm supposed to tell you that," I said.

He ignored me. 
"That's so strange.  I can't say I'm surprised, though.  Asher is...
strange."

"How is he
strange?"

"I'm not
going to tell you how he's strange.  You either figure it out on your own, or
not at all."

"I told you
things!" I protested.  "I don't see why you won't tell me
anything."

"I
am
going to tell you something," he said.  "I told you I'd show you the
library, and that's exactly what I plan to do."

"I
suppose," I muttered.

"Anyways,
before we go, I should ask this again.  I was supposed to come here to bring
you home.  Are you coming?"

"Shut
up," I said.  "No.  I won't.  Where is the library?"

"You're
demanding," he said, laughing.  "You're nothing like Beatrice."

Asher frowned. 
He dutifully stayed for the entirety of his meeting, as necessary, but wondered
the entire time.  Distracted, annoyed, why wouldn't she leave?  What was he
supposed to do if she remained at his house the entire day, and was there when
he came home?  Of course he could ignore her, but what kind of message did that
send?  She couldn't just stay at his house, but he felt badly about forcefully
removing her, too.  Not that he had to do anything more than make a phone call
or two, but he didn't think Jessika deserved that.

Except, why
not?  He planned on never seeing her again, so what did it matter?

His annoyance
only grew when he checked his text messages during a lull in the business
meeting.

"She's
staying," Jeremy wrote.  "Sorry, boss.  I tried."

Jeremy had shown
me where the library was.  It looked like a closet from the outside, tucked
under the staircase to the second floor, unimposing and ordinary.  Instead, it
was a door to the cellar, which wasn't a cellar so much as a completely
furnished basement transformed into a library.  Jeremy opened the door, walked
me downstairs, laughed as I gaped, then left.

It was so big! 
Wall to wall bookshelves filled with books, and a massive table in the middle
covered with more books.  The ones on the table weren't in any particular
order, and were just left laying around for whatever reason.  In the far rear
of the library, there was a massive, cushioned chair with an ottoman, and a
couch next to it.  Both had blankets heaped on top of them.

The lights in
the ceiling were extravagant and reminded me of the lighting in old, classic
architecture style libraries.  I'd never been to one myself, but I'd seen
pictures on the internet whenever I had a fit of wanderlust and wanted to sate
it by doing an image search on Google.  Not quite the same as going to these
places, but I could imagine I'd gone.  Sitting on my couch, turning off every
light in my apartment except for the one lamp I moved to the top of my coffee
table, I liked to curl up with a book and read and pretend I was at the
Angelica Library in Rome.  Or the Athenaeum in Boston... or the Cogrington
Library in Oxford...

I stepped
towards the table and looked at the books there.  Five, total: a second edition
copy of
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
, the paperback version of
A
Storm of Swords
,
Pride and Prejudice
,
Pride and Prejudice and
Zombies
, and
The Time Traveler's Wife
.  I stared at the zombie book,
dumbfounded.  Was that really a book?

Finding a piece
of paper and a pen on the table, I went around to each of the books and opened
them.  Or I opened all of them except the Lewis Carroll book, because it scared
me somewhat.  Regardless of my plans, I really didn't want to repeat what I'd
done the other day with Asher's copy of
Dante's Inferno
.  Each book had
a bookmark inside.  I opened the book, plucked the bookmark loose, then wrote
the corresponding page number on the paper I'd found.  One, two, three, four. 

Placing the
bookmarks in a neat pile, I left them on top of the library table.  Then I
decided that wasn't good enough, so I scurried upstairs and put them on the
kitchenette table, then rushed back down.  And, why was I leaving them in a
neat pile?  I went back upstairs, threw them on the table so they scattered
around, disorganized, then I went back downstairs.

I pulled his
blankets off his chair and couch and tossed them at the foot of the basement
stairs, too.  I briefly contemplated moving books around on their shelves and
putting them out of order, but I didn't want to go too far, so I stopped.  And,
as a final act of defiance, I went upstairs again, found the loaf of bread
Jeremy had used to make toast in the morning, pulled off a corner, and dropped
it onto one of the stairs as I went back into the basement.

There!

And I waited.

And worried.

For all I knew,
this was a terrible idea.  I don't actually know why I did any of this.  It
seemed... wrong?  Yes, well, definitely wrong, which was the point, except what
was the point of my point?  I couldn't really figure that one out.  I sat on
the couch, contemplating this.  When I'd decided that nothing I did made any
sense and I should fix it and then leave, or wait and maybe write down some
heartfelt apology to Asher, I...

Footsteps. 
Upstairs.  I heard them, soft thuds on the ceiling as someone walked around on
the first floor of Asher Landseer's guest house.  If it was Jeremy, I doubt he
would have done that.  He probably would have called out my name, maybe knocked
on the door first?  That's what he'd done the other times he came.  So, no,
this was someone else.

They walked
around upstairs, slowly, inspecting the place.  My breath quickened, heart
raced.  I felt like I was in a horror movie.  The villain, some insane man with
claws in place of fingernails, would walk down the basement steps any moment
and find me sitting on the couch, easy prey for the taking.

The person
upstairs walked towards the staircase leading to the second floor.  I heard
brief sounds of their ascent, then nothing.  I should leave, hurry away, run
outside and beg Jeremy to take me home, but for some reason I couldn't move. 
The footsteps thudded down the stairs again, across the living room floor
towards the basement door, and then down those, too.

I stared,
wide-eyed, at the foot of the stairs all the way across the library room from
where I sat.  I saw feet first, in polished leather shoes, then immaculate
dress slacks, a smooth suit coat, and finally Asher's somber, solemn face.  He
stared at me and I stared back at him.  I tried to breathe, but the air felt
too heavy to my lungs.

"Jessika,"
Asher said.  "What are you doing?"

I didn't answer
him; I couldn't answer him.

He kicked the
blankets away from the bottom of the stairs and stepped towards me.  In his
hand he held the four bookmarks.  Hidden in my chemise blouse sleeve, I'd
tucked the piece of paper with notes on which page he'd marked in which book,
but he couldn't have known that.  Walking to the edge of his table, he checked
each of the books.

"Too afraid
of this one?" he said, lifting up the
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
. 
"Probably a good idea.  It's worth a quarter of a million easily."

I gulped.  I
wanted to cry all of a sudden, for no good reason.  I'd done this on purpose,
intended on doing this, but now I really didn't know why.

Asher left the
table and came towards me.  He tossed the bookmarks in my lap and stared at me,
hard.  "Do you think this is a game?" he asked.

I somehow
managed to shake my head, no.

"Why did
you do this?"

I lifted my
shoulders in the barest hint of a shrug.

"I wanted
you to leave," he said, talking to himself more than me.  He began pacing
in the library, fretting, rubbing at the sides of his eyes with his index
finger and thumb.  "I didn't want this to happen.  Do you know how
difficult this is for me?  Do you know what I have to do?  I have to tell
Beatrice about all of this, and then what?  Besides that, I have to deal with
you now, too.  I don't even know what you're doing.  Why did you throw a tissue
in the trash in one of the bedrooms upstairs?"