The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake: Billionaires and Bridesmaids 4

by Jessica Clare

  He watched as her jaw dropped and she stared at him, aghast. “You want me to what?”

  When he’d come up with the plan last night, he hadn’t quite imagined her sounding so very horrified. Damn. He’d been worse at drunk sex than he’d thought for her to recoil like that. No matter. He’d chosen his path. She already hated him, so it wasn’t as if he was losing anything. Right now, Asher was swinging for the fences. “I’ll help you herd those three and keep Stijn’s end on track provided that you help me out with my big problem. I want you to help me get better at wooing women.” When she stared at him, he added, “You did tell me I was terrible at it. I took your words to heart.”

  Her mouth worked silently. After a moment, she squeaked out, “Me?”

  “Of course, you.” You’re gorgeous and I want better memories than a drunken fumble. I want you to love me again. I want you back so we can experience everything we should have had before when I was too dumb and blind to see it. “You’re perfect for this.”

  “Why am I perfect for this?”

  “Well, for starters, you have exceedingly low expectations. So you’ll be able to tell me when I improve. That’s important. Also, I can’t get you pregnant.” And I can’t wait to touch you.

  Her mouth shut and her jaw clenched. Her nostrils flared, and he could tell she was about to explode. That was okay. He’d kind of expected that. “You want to blackmail me into having sex with you? After what happened last time?”

  “You’re shouting,” he murmured, calm. “And we don’t have to have sex. We can just work on seduction. Kissing. Coaxing a woman. Things like that.”

  Her eyes widened and she stared in horror at the double doors to the room. Her gaze flicked back to him and she lowered her voice. “Are you the world’s biggest idiot, Asher?”

  “I’m an optimist, actually. The way I see it, we both need something. You can help me practice, and I can help you put together the wedding. Think of how much easier it’ll be if I can get Tiffany—”

  “Tiffi.” she corrected.

  God, whatever. “—Tiffi off of her unicorn kick. You want them to choose flowers? I’ll lobby for roses. You want simple? I’ll suggest everything that’s as basic and simple as possible and play it up so it seems like a genius concept. You’ll make this ridiculous wedding seem like a masterpiece.”

  A look of disgust crossed her face. “But I’ll have to let you touch me again.”

  Jesus, she sounded really revolted at the thought. Did he think she’d deflated his ego before? She was taking the remnants of it and grinding it under one of her ballet flats. “That is the catch, yes.”

  “You must be crazy.”

  Just desperate to have you back. “Is that a no?”

  She sputtered. “It’s most definitely a no!”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  Greer shook her head at him, as if utterly astonished at his request. Did she not realize how desperate he was to get her back? To make her realize that she could love him again? He watched, full of longing, as she opened the doors and marched out of the room, her back stiff.

  All right, then. He’d let things play out as he thought they would.

  Asher followed after her and returned to his seat between two of the women. They were all so similar that he had a hard time keeping them straight in his head, and he’d be damned if he could remember their names. They were nice girls, and beautiful in an overly processed sort of way, but they were . . . generic. His tastes had gone more to dark eyes, dark hair, and a small mouth that was even now frowning fiercely at him.

  “Now,” Greer said as she picked up her paper again, smoothing her hair. “Where were we?”

  “Talking about themes,” one of the girls said. “I think we should have Justin Bieber sing our wedding song.”

  “I don’t think,” Greer began delicately, “that Mr. Bieber will find the time in his schedule to sing for you.”

  “He could write it, too,” Blue girl said. “I’m sure he writes several songs a day.”

  “Like I said,” Greer began again. “At this late a date—”

  “I know!” The pink girl clapped her hands excitedly. “Doves! We can release doves when we come in!”

  Greer’s eyes went wide. She shot him a startled look.

  He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, trying not to smile. Hell, he hadn’t even had to say the word doves aloud. This was almost too easy.

  Blue girl squealed. “Oh my god. Doves are an amazing idea.”

  “I am positive that horses and doves are not the way to go,” Greer stressed.

  Pink girl ignored Greer, turning to her sisters. “All those in favor of doves raise your hands?”

  Blue girl’s hand shot up. The other remained down. They all turned and looked at him. “You’re the tiebreaker,” said one triplet. “What—”

  Greer shot to her feet. “Asher! I need to talk to you again in private. Now.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said, oh-so-casual. Inside, he was gleeful. He was getting somewhere now. Good. He whistled as he sauntered back into the study after her.

  The moment she slammed the doors behind him, she whirled and smacked his arm. “Do not say doves! Not under any circumstances!”

  It took everything Asher had to not break into a grin. “Does this mean you want to take my deal?”

  “No! I don’t want to sleep with you!”

  “You don’t right now,” he agreed. “But just imagine how much better it’ll be once I improve?”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I am. And this wedding will be impossible unless we work together.”

  For a moment, Greer looked as if she were about to cry. “This is blackmail. You know that, right?”

  “I didn’t say anything about doves and you know it. But the thing is, those girls aren’t listening to you. They’re walking all over you and you’re letting them. You want my help? I’ll offer it, but you know my price.” When she didn’t look convinced, he changed his voice to coaxing. “Come on, Greer. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”

  “If all you wanted was a back scratch, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” she said glumly.

  Asher grinned. He smelled success. She wasn’t glaring at him any longer. If anything, she just looked frustrated. Maybe a little defeated. That meant she was considering his offer. “Look,” he said, and modulated his tone to the one he used in board meetings to ensure everyone saw things his way. “Helping me out won’t interfere with your work on the wedding. We can meet in private somewhere. We can do this quietly. And we can take it in baby steps. One week, we can practice kissing. The next week, we can move on to foreplay since apparently that was bad.”

  “Not just bad, but nonexistent,” she corrected.

  “Nonexistent,” he agreed. She was wrong, but he’d let her believe he was so damn terrible at touching a woman that he didn’t know the first thing about foreplay. “After that, we move on to the bigger stuff. By the time the wedding hits, it’ll be a beautiful, low-key success story, and I’ll have some pointers on how to please a woman.”

  She hesitated, her gaze on the double doors off to the side, as if weighing her options. He tried to imagine what she was thinking—a wedding full of fake unicorns, doves, and whatever madness the triplets could think of? Or a few weeks of letting him fumble at her again? The fact that she was hesitating for so long was a bit of a blow to his ego, but he ignored it. Once he had Greer in his arms and she was no longer fighting him and declaring her hate for him, she’d change her tune.

  “I need more incentive than just you spouting off logical things in the wedding-planning meetings,” Greer said suddenly, turning to him.

  “What do you mean?” She wanted something else from him?

  “I want an agreement between us, drafted by lawyers so it’s ironclad, that yo
u’ll give up any and all rights to the baby if I agree to this.”

  Asher’s entire body went cold. Give up any claim on his child? Like hell he would. If he did, he’d never see her—or the baby—ever again. It was a gut feeling, and it hurt, because she was still thinking about how quickly she could get him out of her life.

  And here he was thinking about how to keep her in his, forever.

  He swallowed hard. “Why do you want that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious, Asher?” She gave a small, tired sigh. “You never wanted this child, or me. It’s not fair to force a child on someone who wants nothing to do with them. I don’t need your money. I don’t want child support. I just want to be left alone once this is done.”

  As she spoke, his mind raced. All right. He could fix this. He could give her what she wanted, and still manage to come out on top. He’d bring in his best lawyer and add a loophole or a codicil of some kind that would give him an out, and he’d just have to throw enough money at her lawyer that he’d overlook whatever out-clause Asher added to ensure that he could still have control of the situation. There was no way he was going to give up any claim to Greer and the baby.

  He wanted them too fucking much. It gutted him to even consider agreeing.

  But he needed Greer, and this was his Hail Mary pass. If he couldn’t get her to agree to this, he didn’t know what he could do to bring her back to him. To get them back to rights. So he swallowed hard and nodded. “Fine. It’ll be as you want.”

  Was that a flicker of disappointment in her expression? She masked it quickly with a firm nod and then stuck her hand out. “I suppose we have a deal, then.”

  “I suppose we do.”

  And he had some strings to pull on the flip side. But for now? He’d just gotten Greer to agree to let him woo her. It was a start.

  She lifted her glasses and rubbed her nose, as if trying to ease an oncoming headache. “I can’t believe I just agreed to this.”

  “It’ll be beneficial for both of us,” he soothed, and pulled out his phone. “So, what time should we set up tonight for our first kissing lesson?”

  “Tonight?” Her glasses dropped back into place and she looked startled. “We’re starting tonight?”

  “We’ve only got a month, Greer, and I think we’ll both agree that I need all the help I can get,” he lied. “So it’s best that we start right away.”

  ***

  Greer felt as if she’d just made a deal with the devil.

  She studied her reflection in the mirror, oddly nervous. A short time from now, she was scheduled to meet with Asher at his hotel room so they could go over his first kissing lesson.

  Kissing. She was going to teach the man kissing. As if she were the expert? It was to laugh. Except . . . she didn’t feel like laughing. She felt like panicking. She’d agreed to help him get better at seduction? Why did this feel like she was returning back to the lion’s den? She didn’t want anything to do with him, especially not in a sexual manner. Last time, it was frankly, terrible. It was disappointing and sticky and she’d gotten nothing out of it except a lot of broken dreams.

  Oh, and a pregnancy. Couldn’t forget that.

  Her hands nervously went to her stomach, where she felt a tiny flutter inside. She didn’t know if that was the baby or her nerves. Could be both. More than anything, she wanted to back out. The thought of spending a month with Asher practicing kissing on her was . . . upsetting. Like getting scheduled for a month of dentist appointments.

  But what he’d dangled in front of her had been too tempting to resist.

  It wasn’t just the help with the wedding—though, god, that had been a blessing after all. Once Asher had decided to stop making things worse, they’d quickly settled into a theme all of them could agree on: fairy tales. There would be a horse-drawn carriage to bring the brides up to the ceremony (since Tiffi desperately wanted a horse involved) and they would use glass slippers as decor and do some fun nods to other subtle fairy tale ideas. The girls had decided to go with their regular colors of pink, blue, and purple highlights along with bridal white. Now she had a game plan and could charge forward with place settings and colors for napkins and tablecloths and the like.

  More than anything, the wedding would be classy, sweet, and easy. No doves. No horses (other than the carriage, which she could deal with). No costumes for guests and no one sitting in the pool. And true to his word, Asher had helped her rein in the others when their ideas got too crazy.

  Now she had to hold up her end of the bargain. He’d done his part to help bring the wedding together, and her lawyer was scheduled to call his lawyer in the morning to discuss the paperwork about abdicating his parental rights, and so now, well, she supposed she had a date to make out with the guy to help him practice his seduction.

  She ran a brush through her hair and considered whether she should put on some makeup or nicer clothing. Then she scowled at her reflection. What was she thinking? This was Asher. Asher the jerk. It’d serve him right if she ate a fistful of onions before showing up.

  But because she was a nervous nelly, she brushed her teeth anyhow, then packed up her purse and the folder of printouts she’d made and drove her rental over to his hotel. He was staying at the Cromwell, which was exclusive but not so exclusive that she’d feel weird about showing up. Once her car was taken care of, she sent him a text so he could meet her in the lobby. And then she waited, clutching her folder, feeling like an idiot and a bit of a harlot at the same time.

  She gave herself a pep talk while she waited. This will be harmless. You can just tell him about how kissing should be for the woman. You can explain how a girl wants to be touched by a man. Give him some pamphlets, chat about what he should consider changing in his “technique” and then skip out. Zero emotions need to be involved. None. This is just a mutual scratching of backs. By the time she was finished, she felt better, calmer. One month of meaningless makeout sessions, coming right up.

  But then the elevator dinged and Asher got out, all sexy grin and tanned skin, and she felt flustered all over again. He was wearing the same shirt from earlier, sleeves rolled at the elbows and collar open, but gone were the tie and the jacket. And even though she now hated the man, she couldn’t deny that he was utterly delicious for her eyes. His casual saunter toward her and the way his expression looked like a cross between predatory and seductive? Her nipples were getting hard just from him looking at her.

  Greer clutched the folder tighter and reminded herself that he was nothing but packaging. She’d unwrapped the present, so to speak, and had been less than impressed. That calmed her hormones down. She stuck her hand out for him to shake. “Mr. Sutton?”

  “Stop it, Greer,” he said playfully, and ignored her hand. He moved to her side and put an arm around her shoulders, tugging her closer to him. “We both know each other a lot better than that.”

  “Yes, but tonight is about business, remember? I just want to make sure the correct lines are drawn.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware of the lines you’ve drawn.”

  Now what did that mean? Greer frowned to herself as he steered her toward the elevator. Luckily, it was empty, as she didn’t think she’d be able to stand making small talk with another person as Asher led her up to his room for seduction lessons.

  They got off the elevator on one of the top floors and Asher kept his hand on the small of her back as he led her to his room. She hadn’t been to this hotel before, and pretended great interest in the marble flooring and the black-and-white decor in the kitchen area. Anything to avoid the bedroom.

  “Thanks for coming,” Asher said, his arm sliding away from her back. He took her purse from her shoulder and set it down on the counter.

  “Why are you thanking me? You blackmailed me to be here.”

  “I don’t think of it as blackmail—just . . . persuasion.” Asher gave her a winning look. “Yo
u could have turned me down.”

  “And made my life more of a hell? No thank you.”

  His easy smile faded. “Is your life hell, then?”

  For some reason, she felt as if . . . he was worried about her. That was silly, wasn’t it? “This month it is,” she said tartly. Then she thrust the folder at him. “Here. I printed these out for you.”

  “What are they?” He opened the folder and started to flip through the pages.

  “Instructions on how to kiss properly. Apparently you can find anything on the Internet.” She shook her head. “Honestly, Asher, I’m not sure how you managed to keep Donna for so long without knowing any of the basics.”

  His lips twitched. “Indeed.”

  Was he laughing at her? “You have to take this seriously, Asher.”

  “I’m very serious.” He tapped the printouts. “This was very thoughtful of you.”

  “I like to be prepared.” She crossed her arms over her chest and rocked in her shoes. “So . . . do you want to go ahead and get this over with?”

  “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

  She was too nervous to eat anything, and shook her head. “Some other time. Where should we do this? The bedroom?”

  His brows went up. “We can go to the bedroom if that’ll make you more comfortable.”

  “I— What? No! Where did you want to do it?”

  He shrugged and turned around, gazing about the expansive hotel room. “We can move to the sofa, if you like.”

  “The sofa is wonderful. Thank you.” She charged ahead and moved toward it. It was, like the rest of the decor, black, and she grabbed one of the throw pillows on it and hugged it to her chest as she settled in on one end of the couch. For a guy that needed lessons, he sure was making her feel like . . . prey. “Bring the printouts and let’s go over them together. We need to get this right.”

  “I’m sure that, just like anything else, a lot of it is practice.” He tucked the folder under his arm and moved toward her. Yeah, she definitely felt like a gazelle stalked by a lion. “Lucky for us, we have an entire month to hone my skills.”