The Billion Dollar Wedding: The Honeymoon Collection

by Cynthia Dane

  “Anytime.”

  Jasmine hadn’t put her phone down for two minutes before the printer on the other side of the room came to life and spat something out. Yay. Ethan’s work. She waited for him to march through the living room to grab it, but there was no sign of life from the bedroom. Not for one minute. Not for two minutes. Not for five. Finally, her phone buzzed with a new text.

  “You should go read it.”

  Groaning, Jasmine heaved herself off the couch and went to the printer. She snatched the paper from the feed and sat back down, prepared to groan some more.

  “I’m sorry that I offended and upset you. I honestly didn’t think you would take it like that, even if you didn’t like the idea. I must have misrepresented myself. I don’t see you, nor do I want to see you as a thing. I know you’re not a robot built for my pleasure. Don’t you know how much I love you?

  Even though I now understand that this might unnerve you, hear me out. I’ve been thinking about this scenario for a long time. I never brought it up because even I wasn’t sure if I could do it. It’s not about basking in my power over another person. It’s about you giving over so much control that I have no choice but to see to your every need.

  You’re stressed out. We’ve been having a rough few months, between my business and the wedding. I know how much you’re struggling to fit in. So let me give you this gift, my flower. Let me take away any choices you have to make. Let me share my power with you. You can have the clearest mind you’ve ever had. All you have to do is what I ask, and it’s not like I’ll ask anything unreasonable of you.

  …All right, you’ve got me. There is an erotic aspect to it, isn’t there? In the end, I’m still a man who has been given a lot of power. Sometimes I want to take advantage of it. I fantasize about a lot of things. All of them including you, Jasmine. Tying you up, smacking your ass, and making you cry out in pleasure are only tips of the great iceberg that we call love and sex. I want to go deeper with you. I want to experience something new, with you. You’re the only woman I could trust with this, and I’m sure I’m the only man you could trust with this. It would be new for us, yes, but it would have different demands for the both of us. You would have to be perfectly obedient. I would have to be… well, beyond myself.

  “It’s hard for me to explain in words, Jasmine, but the way I see it playing out… we both enjoy it immensely, together. That’s the most important part. It would make us stronger, not weaker. I think the connection we could cultivate on such a day would be unprecedented. The things I’m thinking of… they would be good for us outside of our relationship too. I don’t know how to tell you, so I would let you experience it instead. I’ve always preferred experiencing things to talking about them.

  “I’d understand if you still said no, or if you wanted more time to think about it, but I would like to do it before the wedding, at least. At any rate, I hope you don’t stay mad at me. Please believe that my intentions were not chauvinistic, although you probably think so. I’d be disappointed if you ultimately said no, but it wouldn’t affect my love for you.”

  He had stopped there. Probably pressed print after glancing through it.

  Jasmine didn’t know what to think. Was she more bothered that he had brought it up out of the blue and it seemed so out of character? Or because she was personally offended by the idea. I mean… not like I haven’t fantasized about it myself a time or two… Fantasies were a different beast from reality, though. There were lots of things Jasmine fantasized about but would never act out, even with Ethan. Some things belong in my head, not in my bed. She would assume that this was one of them.

  On the other hand…

  It could be really, really hot. When Jasmine got in the mood for some of Ethan’s control, she got in the mood. From 0 to 11 on the dial. Give it to her now or she would suffer for all eternity! Would I have responded differently if we were already getting into a scene?

  Would it really strengthen their relationship?

  Another text showed up on her phone.

  “You’re going to be my wife. I want to try everything with you. We could always decide to not do it again.”

  Jasmine continued to sit on the couch, debating how she felt. He’s right. I’m gonna be his wife. The wife of billionaire Ethan Cole, a man who controlled the wallets and pocketbooks of too many to count. Jasmine could have laughed. Everything came back to that, didn’t it? Her being his wife. A woman who would have so many responsibilities and haters that most days it would probably be unbearable. She would do it, though, because she loved him.

  How much did she love him? Ethan’s suggestion could test that. Or at least what she thought of him with her head.

  She thought about what Caroline told her earlier that day. All her advice, her suggestions on how to handle such a mantle. They all came back to minding herself and realizing that because people thought of her one way didn’t mean she had changed deep inside. She could present a new her when pertinent, but she never lost who she really was.

  It sounds terrible, because I’m really not good at minding my tongue and have a tendency to embarrass myself…

  Ah, fuck.

  Was Ethan a genius, or was he, as always, coincidental? Jasmine groaned again as she realized that this could be the perfect personal exercise to transform into the biggest bullshitter of a billionaire’s wife.

  She got up, smoothing out her skirt and fluffing her hair before going to the bedroom door. Unlocked. Jasmine could slowly open it and find her fiancée sitting on the edge of the bed, hunkered over and staring at his cell phone. He glanced up, attempting to hide his surprise that she had come to him first. His poker face game has gone down since we moved in together. Jasmine tried not to smile.

  “So, when are we doing this? Let’s get it over with, sir.”

  The bite in her voice when she said it did not faze him. If anything, he probably saw it as a challenge, if that cocky smirk said anything. Not so fast. You’re not quite getting your way yet.

  “How does this Friday sound?”

  Jasmine leaned against the doorway, pursing her lips. “Bring it on.”

  Chapter 15

  Jasmine awoke Friday morning in the manor up in the Hills. Sun streamed through the faraway window, bright and early enough to stretch toward the king-sized bed where Jasmine lay. Ethan… She half expected to find her fiancé in bed beside her before remembering he spent the night at the penthouse.

  Blackbeard rose with Jasmine, arching his back and smacking his paws against Ethan’s pillow. When black and white fur flopped against it, Jasmine decided it was time to get up. It was going to be a long and probably tiring day. Assuming she didn’t die of frustration first.

  Today’s the day. Jasmine spent half the night on the phone with Ethan, going over what would happen. Today I serve him, wholly and unconditionally. Jasmine still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It wasn’t easy to simply say, “Sure, Ethan, I’ll do whatever you want me to do.” Not with the emotional closeness they now shared. Almost too easy back when they had a wad of cash between them.

  Here was what Jasmine knew: Ethan would leave her a series of instructions to follow, much like when she woke up the day he proposed to her. There was a safe word she could use at any time to end their scene. However, instead of giving her a warning safe word and a kill-switch safe word, she only had the kill-switch one… so Jasmine had to make damn well sure that she wanted to end the scene. This probably meant she would be pushing herself in ways she otherwise wouldn’t… normally.

  Good thing I trust the bastard.

  That’s when she realized her phone chimed with a text message. From Ethan, of course.

  “Good morning, my flower. Did you sleep well? I had a courier deliver a letter with instructions for you today. If Belinda found it like she should have, it will be slipped under the bedroom door. Please read it and follow the instructions closely. I look forward to seeing you later this afternoon.”

  Jasmine slammed her head
back against her pillow and pretended she had five more minutes. She told Ethan she would sleep in until nine, probably, even though she went to bed around eleven after updating her wedding registry and then playing some online games. Her parents were gone for the weekend – off visiting a local co-op farm that they hoped to glean some ideas from. Ethan had practically arranged it. When Amber passed him her notes on “local farms for hippies,” Jasmine almost laughed herself to death. Anything to get the in-laws out of their kinky hair for the weekend.

  Eventually she had to get up and start this strange day.

  Sure enough, there was a message in front of the door. After making the usual bathroom run to freshen up, Jasmine sat on the edge of the bed with the letter in hand.

  “Today you are mine, unequivocally. Your body, your words, your deeds, and even parts of your heart, soul, and mind belong to me and no one else. They are yours to use, but today, you don’t have to think about using them. I will use them for you. Today, you are pampered through my alleviation.

  In return for my generous scripting of your day, you will show the world what a good wife you will be to me. What happens today will show my business associates and their companions that you truly are the best woman I could ask for. You will be submissive to your greatest degree. You will defer to me. You will serve me, in any way I ask. You will not question me or my motives. I am asking you to put your morals and ethics into my hands. I promise to take good care of them, as is my responsibility.

  I understand that this may make you wary. It’s asking you to give up a lot of your control, in ways that I usually don’t ask for. Trust me, Jasmine. That’s all I ultimately ask of you – for you to trust me, the man you’re going to marry.

  If you decide that you are too uncomfortable to continue our scene today, use your safe word. I won’t be angry, but I implore you to not use it unless you are absolutely, 100% sure that you cannot continue. By the end of today, when you go to sleep and resume your control tomorrow morning, you will realize how much closer we are as a couple. That is my hope, anyway.

  Let’s begin: your first command, which will last throughout the day, is to keep your words to yourself. Your voice is one of the sweetest in the world. Hearing it makes more than this man happy. That’s why you must keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear a word out of you, unless I ask you a question or you need to use your safe word. Your voice is a treasure that only I want to indulge in. Usually you may use it freely in this world, but today? I’m keeping it locked away. You will not speak to anyone unless it’s an emergency. You will not speak to your friends, your parents, our staff, or the assortment of people you come across. Not without my permission. You may, however, find other ways to communicate, as long as you swear to not tell them about what we’re doing.”

  “Fuck off,” Jasmine mumbled, patting the cat behind her. “There. How about that?”

  “I promise that we’ll have an interesting time today. Now, if you agree to these terms and swear yourself and your service to me, text me with the phrase, ‘Yes, Master.’”

  “He has got to be kidding.” Was Ethan nuts? Or was he mad with power? Probably both, knowing that bastard. This was exactly the kind of thing he would have asked her when Jasmine was nothing more than a paid employee of the administrative and sexual variety. Jasmine would have done it freely too, mumbling beneath her breath, but counting down the hours until she got her millions anyway. I probably would have liked it. Every minute of it. This was the man who showed her that she could love kinky Dom/sub play, after all.

  Jasmine laid the letter in her lap and groaned. She did like the power plays he sometimes sprang on her.

  In fact, Jasmine would haggle a bargain that she preferred the Dom/sub mental power plays to the physical kink. Maybe she really was more of a Monica than she realized. No, Jasmine didn’t want to live every day in “service” to her “Master,” but she wouldn’t mind it once in a while. There was a lot hot about it. As Ethan said, all of the control was taken out of her hands. She didn’t have to think about anything. She was at the whim of a man who wanted to do whatever he wanted to her – and yet she trusted him, because she knew that everything he conjured was for both of their benefits. Every sex act, every command, every stern gaze was meant to make her quiver and feel closer to him.

  He was right… Jasmine was stressed to hell and back. When she wasn’t trying to learn how to be a good wife, she was planning a huge wedding with so many pieces still missing two months before she got hitched. He wants to show the world what a good wife I can be? What did he mean by that? Jasmine would have to find a way to ask him later, when they were alone. She hoped it wasn’t as gross as she feared it was. Except she knew Ethan well enough now to know that he wouldn’t be gross on purpose. Not the Ethan she was engaged to. She hoped.

  Jasmine swallowed her pride. She had no pride today. She was a wisp in the wind, a ghost gliding on the breeze, not thinking of anything and not having to think about anything. It could be nice, she supposed. Having Ethan take care of everything, and all she had to do was listen to what he said? For one day?

  She picked up her phone and hovered over the reply button. Time to start this party.

  “Yes, Master.”

  She heaved a breath. A sigh of a relief? Maybe. It was too early to say.

  Ethan’s reply came. “Go to my closet. On the back of the door is your outfit for today.”

  Oh, good, he had even saved a poor girl from the horror of having to choose her own outfit. What a grand gesture!

  Jasmine went to the closet. Not her closet, like she usually did, but the one beside it. Ethan’s closet was almost as big as hers. It had to be, if it was going to hold fifty tailor-made suits, shirts, shoes, and a panel full of ties. There were men poorer than Ethan who had electronic closets. They not only chose outfits for the hapless men who had no idea what they were doing, but they would take pictures of the clothes and keep them in a database so the unfortunate sod never wore the same outfit twice. Sounds boring. Both Jasmine and Ethan agreed that not only was that hilariously excessive, even for a billionaire, but who gave a shit about wearing the same outfit twice? Well, Adrienne seemed like she would care, but Monica would not care, unless it had to do with certain functions. Would Kathryn Alison care? Probably not. Eva Warren definitely didn’t since she always looked the same – badminton courts aside. Seemed that fearing about outfits was totally a thing a certain breed of woman did.

  Besides, Jasmine knew for a fact that when a woman found the perfect outfit, she would damned well wear it to death, as God intended. Be buried in it too. So, literally to death.

  Nevertheless, Jasmine was always impressed when she went into Ethan’s closet, which she did often enough when helping him pick out a tie or some cufflinks off a rack. He also had a sizable watch collection. The man had always favored Rolex, but after being informed some years ago that men of his standing simply did not wear Rolex, he upgraded to Cartier and insisted on staying there. One of those watches was missing now. Probably on his wrist at this moment.

  It was bright in the closet. Ethan and Jasmine’s walk-in abodes were side-by-side, but Ethan had the advantage of having a panel of windows overlooking the back gardens. Blackbeard wandered in behind Jasmine, who stupidly left the door open. She spent more time herding him out before he could get fur all over Mr. Armani and Brioni.

  The moment she shut the door, almost locking herself in her fiancé’s closet, she saw her outfit for the day.

  How long had it been hanging there? Since Ethan confirmed that Jasmine wanted to do this? The only reason she never saw it was because she hadn’t been in the closet this week. To know that it had been here this whole time… and why it was there… Jasmine plucked it off a hook and gazed at it.

  She had never seen this outfit before, but it was far from the first time Ethan picked something for her to wear. The dress from their engagement night, however, was different. That had been completely to her tastes. This? Well, it was app
ropriate for going out in public, but it screamed This is what Ethan wants to see me in.

  To most, it looked like a simple black dress. Form-fitting, off the shoulder, sweetheart neckline. A diamond-studded belt hung from the hanger, one end in an obscure loop on the waist of the dress. If that wasn’t extravagant enough, Ethan had included the black lingerie set Jasmine had bought in Miami. She hadn’t even realized that it was missing from her bureau!

  Shoes hung from another hook. Black pumps with a sensible height. Am I walking a lot today? Jasmine couldn’t help but note a severe lack of tights. Ethan was not a stocking and tights man… unless the rest of her was naked. He liked to see as much skin as possible.

  This was ridiculous. Yet Jasmine checked for more items, finding a black felt bag of jewelry and other accessories for her to bedeck herself in. She took the outfit back to the bedroom, where Blackbeard swished his tail in agitation.

  “What do you think?” Jasmine asked, stripping down and changing into Ethan’s outfit. She wouldn’t actually take the silent vow until she left this bedroom. “Do I look like a billionaire’s fiancée? Or a slut?” Why couldn’t she be both? Honestly.

  To be fair, Jasmine did look like a high-class call girl, almost as if she worked at Monica’s Château. This is what she decided when she saw herself in the mirror, the dress hugging her body as it tapered around her thighs and barely kept her breasts from spilling out. Yet if she shook the bust enough, they disappeared to the point she was acceptable in a business setting. The belt twinkled around her waist, long enough to drape against her leg when she walked. Classy jewelry fell from the felt bag and onto the bed. To match her ruby-studded engagement ring, Ethan had included a pair of black and red earrings and a ruby anklet that almost matched the ruby set he gave her before. Almost. The style was off.