He squeezed my hand gently. "Maybe this is wrong, but I knew that my relationship with Beatrice wasn't exactly good or right. I think I always knew it deep down, but I wanted it to be different. I wanted... more? How can someone say that to his wife, though? You don't marry someone expecting them to change all of a sudden, you marry them for who they are. Or, that's what I thought at the time, anyways. It's still difficult to come to terms with it all."
"You don't have to," I said. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No." He shook his head. "I want to. I've never really been able to talk with anyone about this before, so if you're willing to listen, I'd like that."
I nodded. I didn't know if I was willing to hear everything, but I wanted to try so that I could understand Asher better.
"Well... I mean, I get it, too," he continued. "Marriage is supposed to be important, but Beatrice and I never had a relationship to begin with. We went on dates, sort of, but never alone. We always went with other people, and I guess we just ended up sitting closer to each other than anyone else. My mother invited her family over to dinner sometimes, so we spent time together like that, too. As kids, maybe. We were teenagers, but then adults, and nothing really changed."
"My father mentioned Beatrice and her family sometimes. My mother, too. I didn't really understand why at first. Then my father passed away and everything changed, because the company was involved and more and more. It was stressful at the time. My mother needed stability, and I realize now that everything would have settled on its own eventually, but back then it seemed like every day the problems kept getting bigger and bigger. So... I agreed. She mentioned I should settle down and then take control of Landseer Enterprises. That was her idea of stability, and it makes sense in a way. That's what my father would have wanted, too. It was in his will, but I didn't have to do it. I had other options, but it didn't seem like I had any real choice."
I nodded. That was life. That's what everyone did, wasn't it? Everyone went to college, everyone found a job, everyone met their future wife, they married. They bought a house, had kids. It was expected. It was considered normal, even if maybe not everyone did all of those things, either. Maybe not even a lot of people did. Who knew?
"I proposed to Beatrice even though we hadn't really ever dated. She said yes, of course. That was kind of expected, too. Both our families were wealthy, so marriage seemed obvious. She acted the same as me in a lot of ways, too. That made a lot of it harder, almost. We married, did customary marriage things, moved into the family mansion. My mother decided to move into her own apartment. Memories, she said, but I don't know how true that was. She didn't want to be surrounded by memories. I took over the company and learned about day to day business affairs, but I still loved photography. I went to college for a business degree, but I took as many art-related electives as I could. I think because of that, I... I don't know, I just..."
"Since you were shackled into something you weren't sure of, you didn't want her to feel the same?" I offered.
"Something like that," he said with a careful smile. "I don't really know, honestly. I thought maybe one of us should find happiness, and the obvious answer, at least to me, was she should. She didn't have anything holding her back. She didn't have a company to manage. Maybe she did the smarter thing. She traveled the world and did whatever she wanted. I paid for a lot of it, yes, but she had investments of her own. She still does. Once she's out of prison, she'll be fine. I hope she's fine, at least."
Something scratched at my heart, some tiny little pinch of pain. "Do you still care about her?" I asked, though I didn't know if I wanted to ask this, and I especially didn't know if I wanted to know the answer.
"I care," Asher admitted. "I've known Beatrice for a long time, but that's it. I care, but I don't love her. I never loved her, Jessika. It was literally never like that. We pretended at love and marriage, but it was entirely fake for both of us. We used to be friends, though. We used to hang out and have fun. We never really did much by ourselves, but I did like her. I don't know how to explain that. It sounds terrible, doesn't it?"
I shook my head, but I didn't know if I wanted to disagree with him about it sounding terrible or if I wanted to shake away the nagging thoughts of his ex-wife and previous marriage. He spoke so gently about her, even though she'd tried to ruin him. Her secret lover, Asher's previous Director of Public Relations before Lucent, even attempted to kill Asher at one point. Beatrice didn't know; that's what she said and I believed her because of what she did and how she ended up saving Asher by pushing Solomon Royce's arm aside just before he fired the gun. But, she still involved herself in that situation. She still planned on siphoning money away from Landseer Enterprises and then wanted to destroy Asher's life.
She didn't now, or that's what she said. She regretted it, supposedly.
It confused me. It confused me a lot.
"Let's not talk about this," he said.
"You didn't finish, though." I needed him to finish. "You never told me about the photos."
"I don't know if it's important," he said. "I said too much. I didn't mean to make it sound like that. I just..."
"What?" I asked.
He seemed reticent, toying with the handle of his fork in one hand while holding my hand with the other, staring at me as if trying to figure out what to say to make everything perfect.
If the last couple of days taught me anything, not everything was always perfect. Maybe nothing was ever perfect. We could try to create perfection, though. We could make scenes, like Asher mentioned with his photography. We could set them up, create scenes or ideas or fantasies, and take pictures with memories. We could love and laugh and smile, but sometimes happiness came after knowing sadness, too. Sometimes happiness was only possible because of all the sadness we knew beforehand.
"It's impossible, but I wish it never happened," he said.
My heart jumped, then stopped. What did he mean?
"I wish I never married Beatrice. I wish we'd only been friends, and stayed that way, with nothing else involved. It's insane, because you and I met under odd circumstances, so I probably would have never met you, but I wish I still had, and then we could have loved one another, and married, and most of the problems you've had to deal with because of me would never have happened. It's impossible, and I realize that, but I think about it sometimes."
I squeezed his hand, reassuring him. Leaning close, I touched his forearm with my other hand.
"That book was my father's," he said. "He loved Dante's Inferno. He said it could teach you everything you needed to know. I don't know if it can do that, but I liked it, too. It's just a book, and there's copies everywhere. When I saw you holding it and reading it, I was fascinated by you, Jessika. Beatrice never read anything but magazines. Then you saw me and you dropped the book, and it ripped apart on the floor. I'd only seen you for a second, but you intoxicated me, and then when that happened, something inside me snapped. It's stupid, but I felt like I'd lost control of my life. My father said the book could teach you everything, but now his book of everything was gone and I didn't know anything yet."
I swallowed hard, listening to him confess.
"I needed that control. It's ridiculous. I know that. I needed it, and in my eyes you'd just taken it away from me forever if that makes sense? It was a rash decision, but I wanted you so badly then. You read the book, you enjoyed it, and then as easily as that, you broke it. I know it was an accident, but it seemed so freeing in a lot of ways. And infuriating, too. You don't need to know everything. That's what I thought right then. I know this sounds really contradictory," he said, forcing himself to chuckle. "I'd fallen in love with you because of that book, then I hated you for a brief moment because you destroyed it, then I think I loved you again more for the same reason."
"What about now?" I asked.
I'd never heard this story before. It frightened me, but in a good way. It was real and raw. It was healing, but it was also special.
It was important. We'd created our scene back then, and this was Asher's picture of it.
"I love you, Jessika. I love you so much. Back then, my life seemed like nothing. I was coasting along, creating stability, but that's it. You broke the book, and I felt like my stability was gone, but then I thought maybe I never needed it in the first place. I didn't want to coast through life, I wanted to live it. I was angry at you at first, and I did some things I truly regret, but... well, this sounds terrible." He smiled. "You don't hate me for telling you this, do you?"
I shook my head. "No. I don't hate you, Asher." I love you, I thought. I wanted to say it, but the words stuck in my throat, dry and afraid.
"I lost myself and I wanted to control you to regain that stability, but then... it just changed. When I had you on the table, you were so wet. You didn't have everything, you'd destroyed it. Neither of us had anything except ourselves right then. It seemed so strong, though. Your face and your body and your arousal. It drew me in. I wanted you. I almost took you. I was rock hard, but I didn't want you to hate me after, as if I could convince myself that somehow what I was doing was alright and you wouldn't actually hate me for it. I felt bad, but I wanted to see you live, and every time my fingers moved inside of you, you seemed more vivid and alive. When I brought you to orgasm, I felt like I suddenly knew exactly what I'd been missing my entire life."
I blushed and looked away. Yes, well, Asher and I had done some things. I'd broken his book and he pulled me into his private meeting room in his office at Landseer Tower, then stripped me of my clothes. And... he'd fingered me to orgasm. Those were the technical details. His story sounded so much more interesting and compelling, though.
"That was it," he said. "I thought I must have lost you after that. I brooded, sitting there, knowing everything I'd never had, and never would have. You'd leave after that. Perhaps you'd report me to the police. I didn't know. It didn't even seem to matter. I had no marriage, because it was a lie. I was about to lose my company because of a huge broach of corporate conduct, and I didn't care because the only thing I could think of was how alive you looked and felt, and how much it made me feel alive, and I just wanted to know. I wanted to ask you how you could do that, like maybe you could just tell me."
"I realized later that it was impossible, but I'd still ruined everything. I asked Jeremy to buy you the dress I gave you. I texted him while you cleaned my office mostly nude. I was sort of surprised you did it and didn't run out. Then I got that call from the doctor about Beatrice and everything happened so suddenly but it seemed right, and I asked you if you'd be an egg donor and surrogate. That was a little weird, huh?"
I laughed. "Maybe a little," I said. "Asher, I... um..."
He smiled at me. "Yes?"
"I felt the same, a little bit. I knew it was wrong, too, but I kind of wanted it to happen in a way. It was a dream. I was stuck back then and not in a great place, and then you showed up. People mentioned you in the halls when I was walking to your office. It sounded like they thought I was going to be in trouble."
"I wasn't the nicest person back then," he admitted. "I tried to stay happy when I could, but I was too curt and tense sometimes."
"It was just a weird fantasy, I guess," I said. "You and I, what you did, how I reacted. When you asked me about Dante's Inferno, it caught me off guard. I thought you were just angry at me for not cleaning like I was supposed to, but then when you mentioned the book in particular, it startled me. I didn't think you liked to read or would care about books, but you did. Then you got me the dress, and you asked me that question, and I just wanted to know." In some weird hindsight perspective of the situation from a year ago, I understood something I'd never considered before. "I wanted to know everything. Everything about you. Why you did the things you did and why you were the person you were."
He smiled and leaned over to kiss me softly on the lips. I moved into his kiss, joyous as our lips touched together.
"That's why," he said. "That was a longwinded story, but that's why I wanted to take those pictures of you, and that's why everything progressed to being a little more than picture taking. I saw you and I saw something beautiful in you, Jessika. You are beautiful, but I love the liveliness inside you, too. I don't know what it is, but you make me want more. I took those pictures because I felt like I could never have that, though. I wanted you. I wanted to have you forever, and I wanted to give myself to you, too. I couldn't, though. I was trapped. I didn't love Beatrice, but leaving seemed impossible. It seemed wrong. I still don't know if it was right, but everything became too complex after what happened."
"I wanted to take pictures of you because I wanted to remember you forever. I wanted to remember what you looked like and how we were together. I wanted to remember every part of you, but the only thing I could have was your picture. I didn't care what kinds of pictures I took, I just wanted ones where you looked real and alive, ones that reflected the way you were inside."
"This sounds quite affectionate and devoted, Mr. Landseer," I said with a silly grin. "Except I really should remind you that we were having sex during half of those pictures."
"Yes," he said, smirking back. "That way I could pretend you were mine, and that you always would be. It was a finely crafted fantasy I had in my mind."
"I wanted you, too, though. I unbuttoned your pants and I put you inside of me."
"I think maybe we're both a little strange," he said. "I'm still not sure how we managed to make this work out."
"Do you still want it?" I asked. "Do you still want to remember all of me?"
He nodded, sincere. "Every day," he said. "I cherish every day with you, Jessika. It hurts when I see you scared or lost, because I've seen you so happy and I want you to be happy always. I oversee Landseer Enterprises because I want to create something magical. I was setting scenes in my mind. Each building, each tourist hot spot, became the perfect picture. That's how I convinced myself to take over the company, by telling myself I could set those scenes for everyone, even if I did it indirectly. When I see you upset, it reminds me of that. I want to make you happy again. I want to set our scene and make it perfect."
"We do have a lot of pictures together," I reminded him. He had so many pictures of me while I was happy and smiling, or reading, talking, while we were intimate, while we kissed, while we made love. A part of me worried there was a limit, that eventually he wouldn't need more because he'd have enough.
"I look at them," he said. "When I'm alone, or when we're together, I look at our pictures, and I see you happy. Maybe you're just smiling, or maybe you're laughing at me and shooing me away, or maybe it's you and I together and I'm buried deep inside of you and we're close, and your eyes are clenched shut in ecstasy. It's never enough, though. It will never be enough. I want to take more pictures, Jessika. Even if I can't use a camera, I want more memories. I want both of us to be happy in them, not just for now, but for always. I will do everything possible to make that happen."
I smiled, becoming lost in his love, his heartfelt confession. I eyed the plate in front of me, three-quarters eaten, the rest laying there. It tasted good, I enjoyed it, but...
"I don't want to eat anymore," I said, gazing at him with some intense, previously unknown emotion.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"You," I said, "in the bedroom. Right now."
Asher shoved the table aside, slamming it into the back of the couch. I gasped and winced at the sound of clattering dishes. He kicked his chair out of the way and swooped in, grabbing me. He lifted me out of my chair with strong, powerful arms and I laughed and shrieked and screamed, elated. My shouts were muted by his hand, then his mouth. He dragged me partway to the bedroom while kissing me hard. I tried to unbutton his shirt, but I gave up after two buttons and ripped the rest of it away.
Asher grinned at me, lasciviously insatiable. Scooping me into his arms, he carried me to the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed. I bounced and the bed creaked and groaned, not used to the abu
se.
Yes, well, I thought, speaking to the bed in my mind. You better get used to it, because we're about to do some rude things atop you.
Asher crawled onto the bed, prowling over me. He grabbed the bust line of my dress, dug his fingers into the fabric, and pulled roughly, ripping it down the middle. I gasped.
"Asher! That's an expensive dress," I protested, nearly squeaking in aroused excitement.
"Fuck the dress," he said. "It's in my way."
He ripped the rest of it off until I lay on the bed in nothing more than tatters. I didn't need a bra with this dress, so I lay there in only my panties. Asher delicately wrapped his fingers around the waistband of my underwear, his powerful hand pressing against my pubis. With one sharp wrench, he peeled and pulled my panties down my legs, then threw them to the floor.
***
Sex made me hungry again. Sex also made me feel exhilarated. I was happy and I wanted to skip around the room, even though my legs felt weak and maybe I kind of wanted to lay down and take a nap or kiss, or have sex again. Sex was a very nice thing, I thought.
Asher laughed at me while I smiled at him in my post-orgasmic daze. I smiled and I kissed him, first on the nose, then the lips, then more on the lips. He chuckled and squeezed me close, but then I slinked away and fell onto the bed on my back. It jumped and creaked and moaned. I kind of wanted to moan, I thought. During sex, of course. With or without the bed. The bed didn't really matter. I didn't care about the bed.
"Asher," I said, finding my voice hidden somewhere behind a giddy smile. "Are you hungry?"
"I think our food is cold by now," he said. "We've been in here for awhile. We could heat it up in the microwave?"
"We could..." I said, trailing off. "Or, I made dessert, too."
"Oh?" he asked.
"Yes!" I made it. Me. Well, Jeremy helped, but it was my idea and I did a lot of it, so I was going to take credit since he wasn't here right now. Rolling to the side and sliding my legs off the bed, I plopped my feet onto the floor and bounced up. "Wait here, alright? I'll go get it."
His Absolute Insistence: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #2) Page 9