Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle)

by Julia Kent

  Actually, none of it was understandable. No matter what, Solomon Royce shouldn’t have done what he did. It wasn’t excusable and I hated myself a little bit for trying to rationalize his behavior. The point stood, though, that if I told Asher he would probably do something about it. What that was, I had no idea. The obvious solution would be to remove me from the equation, since I was likely of little business use to someone like Asher Landseer.

  I didn’t like that idea. I wanted to be important, something more, but at the moment I couldn’t. And yet, why would I want that? For who, too? It wasn’t that I wanted it, per se, but more that I didn’t want Asher to have a good reason to not want me around. I had very scant few reasons for him to take notice of me as it was, so giving him even less would ruin that.

  Except, was that the kind of person Asher was? No, not really. Asher was a businessman, a billionaire, and the CEO of a company. He was a husband, and a reader, and a lover of silly old movies like The Goonies. He liked Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Dante’s Inferno and The Time Traveler’s Wife. He liked pizza with chicken and feta cheese and tomatoes and onions, and he was controlling sometimes, a bit demanding, but not without reason. Unknown reasons, hidden somewhere in the depths of his mind, but I never doubted that he had very specific and important reasons for every single thing he said or did.

  Or, maybe not everything, but most things. Sometimes he talked regularly, as if he were an average person. Casual conversation. We’d stayed up late last night talking about nothing important, but it was fun and amazing. I knew his favorite color(blue) and that he didn’t like raisins, especially in cookies. He knew that I liked to read and wanted to review books as a job, and that I realized I probably couldn’t make a living off that but that I loved it anyways. I’d even shown him my small website with some of my book reviews, too. On his smart phone, he browsed through it, humming and hawing as he looked at what I’d done.

  He never made fun of me for any of it, either. He didn’t say it was dumb or useless and he seemed genuinely interested in what I did. Maybe it was dumb and useless(in fact, I was fairly certain of it), but it was my passion and so he accepted it. He accepted me in some ways that I’d never really felt accepted before. I felt like I could tell Asher stupid things that were important to me, and probably no one else. Things that sounded silly and trivial, except he wouldn’t laugh or mock me. He would listen and nod and understand.

  I stared out the window at the skyline, thinking these things. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a bottle of perfume sitting on Solomon’s desk. Tucked away in a corner, behind a short stack of books, looking quite out of place. I reached for it and picked it up and looked at the front.

  Ambre et Vanille parfum, it read. Emblazoned on the front was a French woman’s name, somewhat like my own but probably entirely different. I didn’t know a lot of French and the flowery, calligraphic writing made it hard to read. Unstoppering the bottle, I sniffed at the perfume.

  Interesting, I thought. Very feminine. Did Solomon have a lady friend he intended on giving it to? Or—and this was odd of me to think—had he intended on giving it to me? A way of apology? For some reason I couldn’t even begin to imagine that; it didn’t seem in his character, what little I knew of him. I stoppered the bottle and put it back where I’d found it.

  The window, staring, thinking, and…

  “Jessika?” Asher poked his head into Solomon’s office, knocking lightly on the door as he did. “Are you finished?”

  I stood up and faced him, smiling. “Yes, I’m all done. I was waiting for you.”

  Asher grinned and beckoned for me to come. I walked across Solomon’s office and joined him in the doorway. He took my arm in his, very gentlemanly, and escorted me down the hallway and to the elevator.

  “Was everything alright?” he asked. There were other people in the building still, but none leaving right now. When the elevator dinged, the doors opening, we had the entire six-by-five foot compartment to ourselves. “Solomon can be confusing at times,” he added. “I hope he wasn’t too difficult.”

  I gulped, briefly reconsidering what I’d decided. I should tell him; I wanted to tell him. And yet when it came to it, I said, “He was fine. I managed to do everything he asked.”

  Everything, I thought, except for the first thing. And I was very, very glad of that.

  …

  Jeremy drove us home and Asher brought me back to his guest home. Once inside, he said, “So, if Beatrice agrees, then I think it would be best if you stayed here during… everything. Would that be alright with you?”

  I glanced around the guest house, pretending to think about it. Alright? It would be perfect! This place was wonderful, and then—as much as I tried not to think it—I’d be closer to Asher. If his wife left again, like he said she did often, he and I could spend more time together. Watch movies, order pizza, maybe even go to fancy Japanese restaurants. Not that I needed anything excessive, but I couldn’t imagine Asher taking me to a hotdog stand and ordering a chili dog. I would absolutely love it if he did—I’d love going anywhere with him, really—but it didn’t seem like the kind of thing a billionaire would do. I’d be perfectly happy staying in, both of us reading quietly next to each other. I could write up a book review and post it on my website and then show him after. And…

  “Yes,” I said, perhaps smiling too widely. “Of course that would be fine. I actually really like it here.”

  “I’d hope so,” he said with a hint of a tease in his voice. “You did refuse to leave, so there must have been a reason.”

  Yes, I thought. You. But I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t tell him any of it. He must know by now, must have realized it, but because of his wife and his marriage we couldn’t talk about it. No matter what I felt, those feelings couldn’t exist.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said. His voice trailed off.

  I looked at him, head tilted slightly to the side. “Yes?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell Beatrice about what happened,” he said.

  “Oh.”

  “Not that I agree with what we did or accept it. It can’t happen again, please understand that. But I think it would complicate matters. Needlessly. Do you understand? I don’t… Jessika, I really don’t want you to think that I’m trying to excuse what happened. I just think it would be best if we both understood what happened won’t happen again, and press forward. Are you alright with that?”

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to tell her, so I’m fine with it!” I said, teasing. He looked so serious, and I understood why, but I thought adding a little lightheartedness to the conversation might help.

  “Me either!” he said, grinning. He became solemn again and added, “But, I would. If I thought it would help, and if I absolutely needed to, then I would tell her without a moment’s hesitation. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I really think it won’t be necessary, though. We’re both adults and we should be able to understand that and act responsibly.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Of course.”

  Responsibly, I thought, which did not include secretly giving Asher a blowjob while he slept. Granted, he shouldn’t have gotten me off on his meeting room table in his office, and I shouldn’t have seduced him into having sex with me during our photography session and he shouldn’t have…

  We probably shouldn’t have done a lot of things. We probably shouldn’t even be in the same room together now, nor should we discuss not telling his wife about anything, but we were and it seemed like he had come to some internal decision about all of it, with personal and valid reasoning. I could go along with it.

  I didn’t really want to go along with it, but what could I do? I wasn’t a home-wrecker and I refused to become one. I was, of course, rationalizing this right now, too. Asher didn’t want to tell his wife about his infidelity and I didn’t want to tell Asher that I wanted him to strip me down, drag me to the shower, and have slippery wet, soapy sex with me, so it seemed we
were on even ground.

  I was, perhaps, a horrible person, but I tried not to think about it.

  He helped me do that with what he said next. “Dinner will be soon. Beatrice is freshening up. I asked Jeremy to find some clothes for you, so they should be in the closet in the master bedroom upstairs. I don’t know what he bought, but I told him to find a good assortment so you’d have a few choices.”

  “Asher…” I started to say.

  He stopped me by placing a finger on my lips. “Shh. I’m going to shower and change for dinner. Whatever you want to wear will be fine. Come to the front door of the main house once you’re ready. I’ll tell Jeremy to wait for you and he can show you to the dining room.”

  Asher lifted my hand up and before I knew it he kissed the back of it. His lips, soft and supple, pressed against my knuckles and I nearly melted. So small, nothing of any real meaning. His fingers holding mine, touching lightly against my palm. Slight moisture from his lips leaving an imprint on my skin. Then he hugged me tight and I hugged him back, squeezing. I didn’t want to let go of him, but he managed to escape my embrace and walk away. To the door, opening it, outside, and…

  “I’ll see you soon,” he said.

  I said nothing as he left. I didn’t know what to say, but I really didn’t want him to leave. Even if nothing happened, I would have liked him to stay and wait and while I changed into new clothes he could sit on the bed, or the couch, or downstairs in the library and then we could go to dinner together.

  It was silly, really. Reluctant to leave the kitchen, but knowing I had to, I went upstairs to the master bedroom. Heading to the closet to see what Jeremy had bought(and expecting a couple of outfits), I was overwhelmed. Completely empty before, save for a bunch of hangers, the closet was now utterly filled with clothes. Dresses, pants, blouses, pajamas, nightgowns, shoes lining the floor. Even a few fancy woman’s peacoats tucked off to the side on sturdy wooden hangers.

  This was just for dinner, so probably nothing fancy, right? I grabbed a pair of jeans and a nice looking t-shirt. Plus, my God, I belatedly noticed a note on the back of the walk-in closet door. “More in the dresser,” it said. Going to the dresser I found pantyhose and socks and stockings and underwear, and…

  I stared in one drawer, blinking. What. Jeremy left another note atop a pair of frilly, lacy red panties. Panties in as much as they would definitely cover me, except they were so lacy and small that they wouldn’t actually hide anything. Though obviously I’d wear them with pants, and… they had a matching bra? Yes, I found out as I followed more of the note’s directions. The bra hid a bit more, but barely, and it was one of those that would enhance my assets, as it were.

  “Wear these,” Jeremy had written on the note. “Asher loves red.”

  “You’re a troublemaker,” I said aloud, even though Jeremy obviously couldn’t hear me. “I will wear them, but not because of that. I’ll do it because I feel like it, and nothing more.”

  Nothing more? Yes. That’s what I told myself.

  I cleaned up and put on the lingerie, then the jeans, the shirt, and a pair of casual heels that matched the pants. There were regular shoes, but I liked the idea of having a little bit of style. The panties and bra were a part of that, yes, but no one could see those. And sitting at the table, no one would really see the heels, but they made me feel better. Sexier and more confident.

  And then the time came. I went downstairs, to the guest house door, opened it, out, and started the short walk to the front door of the main house. Outside, Jeremy was leaning against the wall, toying with his phone.

  He tapped some keys, gritted his teeth, tapped some more, then said, “Dammit!”

  “What?” I asked, approaching him.

  “Oh, nothing. Pacman. I lost. Not that I’m very good in the first place, but I was doing pretty good right there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be waiting for me? Was playing games a part of that?” I said, playful.

  “Pft. You took so long that I needed to find something to do.” He looked me over, spied the heels. “So… did you?”

  “Did I what?” I asked. I knew what he meant(the underwear), but I wasn’t about to dignify his absurd question with an answer.

  “Come on,” he said, nodding deliberately at my chest. “Did you?”

  “Excuse me, but are you flirting with me?” I asked, feigning contempt.

  He laughed. “Right. You did, then. Let’s go.”

  He walked to the door and opened it for me, gesturing for me to go inside. I followed and went, but not quietly.

  “I did not!” I said. “How would you know, anyways?”

  “I can tell by the way you’re acting. And walking around. I can just tell.”

  “No you can’t,” I said, turning my nose up at him. “You’re just guessing and hoping that I’ll tell you.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do say so. Now stop harassing me.”

  “Ooohhhh.” His eyes twinkled and he grinned. “Miss Bigshot now, eh? Nice clothes, lacy, see-thru panties, fancy high heels.”

  I pushed him lightly. “Shut up.”

  He laughed. “Anyways, it’s this way. Come on.”

  He brought me to a room the size of a basketball court. Inside, taking up most of the space, was a huge dining hall table. It looked like something that belonged in a castle, preferably owned by royalty but a major duke and duchess would do, too. Dark mahogany legs peeked out from beneath a cream-colored, silken tablecloth. I gaped at it in awe.

  I stopped moving. Jeremy poked me in the shoulder a few times to prod me on, but I was still somewhat in shock. Giving up on social etiquette, he grabbed my arm and pulled me onwards to my spot at the table. Despite it being so large and taking up most of the room, only a few places were set at the far end of the table. Jeremy pulled out my chair, dumped me in it, pushed it in, and then grumbled.

  “You’re a huge pain, you know that,” he said.

  “Shh,” I said. “I’m admiring the table.”

  “Right. Well, I’m leaving.”

  I must have looked like an idiot, but I didn’t care. I pulled at the table cloth, toying with it between my fingers. It felt so smooth and delicate, but strong, too. At my parent’s house, whenever we had Thanksgiving, they put out a previously fancy tablecloth, but it was nothing like this. Tattered around the edges and with faded remnants of past spills soaked into it, it made the rickety table look nicer, but almost anything would. This table probably didn’t need a tablecloth to look nice, but it looked extravagant and amazing with one.

  A woman entered the dining hall from a door on the opposite wall from where Jeremy and I came in. She wore a velvety formal dress with a dark chiffon overlay and looked ready to attend a ball. Her high heels tapped a martial cadence across the buffed wood floor as she made her way towards the table and me. She stared at me for a moment before clearing her throat loudly.

  I thought she meant to say something, perhaps introduce herself, but she didn’t. A man came out of nowhere, rushed to the chair in front of her, and pulled it out. She flashed him a fake smile, lowered herself into the chair, and allowed him to push it in behind her.

  “You,” she said once seated, “are, I assume, Jessika. I have heard about you from Asher.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Everything you heard was good, I hope.”

  I laughed. She didn’t.

  “I am Beatrice,” she said, giving me a strange look, presumably for laughing. “Asher’s wife. I’ve heard what I need to know about you, though I don’t care much about hearing more. You understand our situation, and that is enough. Asher desires children, to which I can’t begrudge him that. Unfortunately I can’t provide him with any, as you should be well aware. I am reluctant to acquiesce to any formal agreement between you, him, and I without first discussing the matter in more detail, though.”

  As she sat there, talking, I noticed something odd. Nothing about her in particular, besides her favored formali
ty for this particular situation, nor about her clothes, that seemed far more proper than necessary for a casual dinner, but there was a smell. Not a bad smell, not at all. Actually a very nice one. Feminine and sweet, thick like chilled caramel, with a faint hint of oranges and cinnamon, vanilla and… something else. I thought I recognized it, but I wasn’t sure from where.

  “You aren’t dull, are you? I mean that in a nice way, so please don’t take offense. You do have intelligence, correct?”

  A perfume shop, I guessed. Or something like that. I must have smelled it when I walked through some store that was showing off a new type of perfume. Likely one that was too expensive for me, especially if Beatrice was the one wearing it, so I probably hadn’t given it any further thought until just now. That made sense.

  My thinking didn’t help me to sway Beatrice against thinking I was an idiot.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I was distracted, I…”

  “This isn’t a point in your favor,” she said. “Does ADD run in your family?”

  “Um, no.”

  “Do you have a history of debilitating diseases?” she asked.

  “I graduated with a BA in English Language and Literature,” I said, trying to ignore her. “I received good grades.”

  “Not a very valuable degree,” she said, speaking more to herself than me. “I’m not a fan of creative sorts. Asher loves novels, but I don’t see the point. You don’t gain much from them.”

  “I disagree,” I said. “You can…”

  “What?” she interrupted.