His Absolute Insistence: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #2) (10 page)

He turned to look at me and smiled.  "So what kinds of things are you thinking about doing with Asher in bed, huh?" he asked.

"What?"  My cheeks burned bright red.  "You heard me?"

"Yeah.  Apparently the doors in your apartment aren't that good at keeping out noise."

"A nap," I said.  "That's all I meant.  I wish Asher was here so he and I could take a nap.  In my bed."

"Right," Jeremy said.  "That must have been it."  He rolled his eyes and looked away from me, laughing.  "What are we making here?  Garlic bread?  Can I have my phone back.  I'll text Asher and let him know I'll pick him up.  Probably best that way, if you're both trying to keep this place a secret."

I handed Jeremy his phone.  "I'll start on the garlic bread."

"Once I bring Asher over, I should probably head home for the night," Jeremy said.  He faked a yawn.  "Kind of tired, you know?  I wouldn't mind some food to bring with me, though.  I'm sure you two will be fine here on your own.  Alone.  For the entire night.  With a bed.  You can nap for as long as you want.  That'll be nice, huh?"

"Get out of here," I said, laughing.  For good measure, I plucked up one of the slices of green pepper and tossed it at him.

Jeremy caught it and stuffed it in his mouth.  "Don't mind if I do.  Thanks."

He went into the living room to text Asher and I glared at him, teasing, then went to start on the garlic bread.  Just some melted butter, spices, the minced garlic from a jar, spread on the Italian bread after I sliced it in half, and then sprinkled with cheese.  Nothing complicated, but I hoped it tasted good enough.

J
eremy went to get Asher while I put the final touches on our meal.  Most of it was done, but I wanted to do a little extra if I could.  Cooking like this, just doing something instead of thinking about the vandalism from my office, the fire last night, and then the sex tape scandal this morning, it made me feel a lot better.  There was no stress, there wasn't anything to worry about.  I only needed to make sure dinner was as perfect as possible.

Deep down I knew that wasn't true, but I wanted to pretend just for a little while.  I felt helpless in a lot of ways, and lost in other ways.  Asher knew so much more about dealing with stress than I did.  Before I met him, the most stressful thing in my life had been bills and paying the rent.  The answer to those problems was easy, though; you paid bills by working more or finding a better job.

How did you stop people from hating you so much that they broke into your office and left a document up on your laptop calling you a whore in bold, capital letters?  How did you figure out who started a fire in your home?  How did you deal with two of your friends being wanted for questioning by the police because of that fire.  And, to top it all off, how should anyone deal with a sex tape scandal?

I had no idea.  All of these situations sounded completely impossible to me before today.  The world felt distant and I wanted to feel indifferent.  I just wanted to make a nice dinner and share it with Asher in the privacy of our home.  Maybe this was more my home than his home, but that's kind of how I felt about the mansion, too.  It seemed so much more like it was his than mine, even if we were married and we shared it.  In a lot of ways, I felt like I was intruding into his life sometimes.

I found myself stirring the hearty meat sauce with no rhythm or direction.  It didn't need stirring anymore.  I turned the burner on the stove to low and let it simmer.  The pasta should be done any minute.  I cooked some earlier so I could give Jeremy a plate before he left, but I didn't want to make too much before Asher arrived.

Jeremy wasn't coming back.  He told me as much.  He'd drop Asher off and then leave us be, so we could have a night to ourselves.  I appreciated the kind gesture.  I wanted to spend some alone time with Asher.  I enjoyed having Jeremy around, too, though.

The garlic bread sitting in the stove filled my apartment with wonderful smells.  Everything smelled nice, actually.  The tomato sauce, spiced with herbs and thick hunks of ground hamburg.  Not exactly meatballs, but I thought it looked satisfying.  That, mixed with the melted garlic and butter on the crusty Italian bread sounded wonderful to me.  I made dessert, too, but that was a surprise for later.

Everything was nice.  Everything would be nice.

Someone knocked on the door and I jumped, startled.  I dropped the stirring spoon onto the kitchen floor, splattering remnants of tomato sauce across the tiles.  I bent to pick up the spoon, then tossed it into the sink.

"Who is it?" I said.  Probably just Asher.  Maybe Asher and Jeremy.  Jeremy said he'd leave us be, but if Asher had a lot of things with him, Jeremy would offer a helping hand, I thought.

No one answered.  After a couple of seconds, someone knocked again.

I froze, worrying.  I didn't know why, though.  They probably didn't hear me, that's all.  I snatched a paper towel from a roll on the counter and wiped up the splattered sauce from the floor quick, then tossed it into the trash.  Hurrying to the door, I unlocked it and opened it to let Asher in.

That was the plan, at least.  When I opened the door, the hallway was empty.  My heart thumped heavy in my chest and I swallowed hard.

Why?  Why was I worried?  And what was I worried about?  It was just... just an accident.  Yes.  I reassured myself of that.  Tentative, just in case, I stepped partway into the apartment building hallway and looked to the left, then the right.

Nothing.  No one.

I saw a flash of something out of the corner of my eye and turned fast to look at it.  It vanished as soon as that, though.  I kept staring.  A similar flash blinded me momentarily, but after a second I realized it was just a natural glare.  One of the windows from the stairwell to the side reflected the late afternoon sun at the end of the hallway.  Every so often a tree outside rustled in the wind and sent the sunlight poking farther down the hall and closer to me.

Nothing crazy.  Nothing scary or bothersome.  Just the sun, and a window, a tree, the hallway.  I was alone, by myself.  No one was here.

I rushed back into my apartment and slammed the door shut hard.  My fingers jumped to the lock and I locked the door fast.  A few spots of sauce lay pooled on the kitchen floor, but I ignored them.  I went to each of my windows and checked the locks, then pulled the shades shut.  The apartment grew dark, darker but not dark enough.  The window shades weren't the best and small slivers of sunlight snuck through.

I did this for the living room and the bedroom.  There were no windows in the bathroom or the little kitchen alcove.

I sat on the bed, my whole body shaking.  Why?  Why did I feel this way?  My heart pumped, thick and pounding against my chest and my stomach felt like it wanted to leap out of my body.  My skin grew cold and I shivered.  The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end.

A knock sounded on the front door.

No!  No, I... no!  I refused.  I didn't know who it was.  This was a cruel joke.  Whoever it was, whoever found it funny, well... they didn't know me and I didn't know them, and maybe it was just for fun and amusement, playful and silly, but it wasn't.  It hurt.  My heart beat faster and faster and my body curled in on itself, my arms clutched tight to my chest and my chin moved close towards my knees.

What if they could get in here, though?  What if they broke in?  They could smell it, I realized.  The food.  I couldn't hide, not really.  They must know someone's here.  How could they not?  The telltale scent of Italian herbs gave me away.  I locked the door, right?  I closed all of the windows, made sure they were latched, I shut the shades, I...

"Jessika?"  I heard Asher's voice, both too soft and too loud, muffled and coming through the front door to my apartment.  "Are you there?"

I started crying.  I didn't even know why I was crying.  I cried and I scrambled off the bed, nearly stumbling to the floor.  I half-crawled and half-stumbled towards the bedroom door, then out it into the tiny hallway leading to the kitchen, and somehow I made it to the front door of my apartment.  Nervous, shaking fingers unlocked the door and I grabbed the knob and pulled it open.

Please, I thought, begging with my mind and myself and life and everything.  Please, just let that be Asher and please don't let it be a mistake or a trick, and please don't let the hallway be empty.  Tears streamed down my cheeks, crashing against the front of my dress.  I opened the door more, revealing the hallway to me, and my apartment to...

Asher.  Yes, it was him.  He stood there, smiling, but as soon as he saw me crying, he stopped.  His face contorted into some rendition of anguish and unknown pain.  He ran to me and grabbed me, wrapping his arms around my waist and squeezing me into a tight embrace.  The door closed behind us and he locked it with one steady hand while he held me with the other.

He didn't know where anything was, he didn't know anything about my apartment, but it didn't matter.  He held me tight and picked me up.  I wrapped my legs around his waist and my hands around his neck and he put his arms around me and rested his hands on my rear, squeezing me close.  We walked like that—or, he did, carrying me—towards the little hallway and then my bedroom. 

He carried me to the side of the bed, then he knelt atop it, still holding me in his arms.  We moved like that, he and I together, until we were in the middle of the bed.  Asher let himself fall softly to the side, his head and mine landing gently on a pillow.  He held me tight in his arms and I curled my body against him and onto him, nuzzling as close to him as I could.

"What's wrong?" he asked, whispering into my ear.  His lips touched stray strands of my hair, kissing my earlobe with a gentle wisp of a peck.

"I don't know," I said.  I didn't.  I still didn't know.  "Jeremy left and everything was fine but then I heard a knock on the door and I thought it was you or him or both of you.  I called out and asked but no one answered, then someone knocked again so I figured you hadn't heard me.  I went to go answer and no one was there.  It scared me.  I don't know why.  It's silly, really.  I feel so stupid for being scared about something like that.  It was probably just a mistake or a joke.  Someone in the building's child going around knocking on all the doors for the fun of it, then laughing after, you know?  That's probably what it was."

"It's alright," Asher said to me, his soothing words brushing softly against my senses, his voice tingling in my ear, breath caressing against my neck.  "It was probably nothing, but everything's been so difficult the last few days that even nothing can be disturbing.  You aren't stupid, Jessika.  Things are a little stressful, that's all."

"A little?" I asked, choking on a laugh.

"Maybe they're a lot stressful," he said, grinning.  "I'm here now, though.  Everything will be fine.  Dinner smells amazing.  Did you cook it by yourself?"

"Jeremy helped.  He went to the store and bought everything, and he helped me prepare it, but I did the cooking part.  I like cooking, Asher.  I haven't been able to cook much, because everything is busy and you have people who cook for you, but I like it."

"Do you want to cook sometimes?  I thought it was easier to have someone else cook for us, but if you want to do it, we can figure something out.  I'm sure the kitchen staff would be more than happy to help you, or you can do it on your own if you want, too."

"I can't do that," I said.  "It's their job.  I don't want them to feel useless.  I don't want to take their jobs away from them."

Asher shrugged, blowing a puff of air between his lips.  "I'm not going to fire them.  They can cook for the rest of the house, and you can cook for us."

"I'm not a good cook.  I used minced garlic from a jar.  Jeremy said they'd hate that.  They'd want to use fresh organic cloves of garlic or something.  I'm sure it's good," I said, hasty.  "I mean, I'm sure they've gone to a culinary institute for all this and they know what they're doing, but I just like simple stuff sometimes.  I can't force my way into the kitchen and make us macaroni and cheese for dinner."

"Why not?" he asked.  He said it so seriously that I started to doubt my understanding of the world.

"Well... it's strange.  I don't want fancy macaroni and cheese.  Sometimes I just want it from a box.  With sliced up hot dogs and a glass of chocolate milk to go with it."

Asher smiled and kissed my cheek.  "Sounds great.  When are we having that?  Should I help or do you want to do it on your own?"

"You're being too nice," I said.  "I bet you don't even like hot dogs or macaroni and cheese."

"What are you talking about?  Those are my favorites.  I love them."

"Are you lying to me?"

He kissed my cheek again, lingering slightly.  I tilted my head to the side so that my lips touched against his.

"Maybe it's not my favorite, but I do like it," he said.  "I'm easy to please.  If you sit me down and put a plate in front of me, I'll eat whatever's on it."

"Alright," I said.  Smiling, feeling shy all of a sudden because I somehow felt like I'd learned something new and special about my husband, I kissed him.

He kissed me back, soft and nice.  We lay like that, together, lips touching and kissing.  This wasn't frantic or even overly sexual.  It was just us, simple intimacy, a friendship of sorts, but more than that, too.  I was Asher's wife and he was my husband.  I loved him.  I wanted sex and closeness and I wanted to explore his body and let him explore mine.  I wanted all of that, but I wanted him to be my friend, too.  I needed it so desperately that it hurt.

I didn't feel cold anymore.  I felt nice.  Warm and soft and cozy, wrapped up in Asher's arms while we lay cuddled on my bed, kissing.  I hadn't used this bed in forever, and maybe it wasn't a very good bed.  It creaked every time either of us moved more than a tiny bit, the noise rocking through the room, sounding louder than it was.

Asher kissed me once more and I kissed him back.  Then I said, "You can make the chocolate milk."

"Hm?"  His lips brushed against mine and he touched the tip of his nose to my nose, too.