The Billionaire's Ultimatum: His Absolute Need (A BDSM Erotic Romance Novel) (Book One) (34 page)

"You know
her?" Beatrice asked him.  "This is outrageous.  I let you into my
home and was accepting of you.  I went to that filthy doctor's office just to
offer my support for Asher's ridiculous plan, and you do this to me?"

"Shut up,
Beatrice," Asher said.  "Stop being dramatic.  I know you're not
infertile, too.  You weren't accepting of Jessika, you were going to use her to
further your plans.  Obviously it didn't work."

"Well,"
Solomon said.  "We're at an impasse, I suppose.  What do you propose now? 
What's done is done, and I have a hard time mustering up the inclination to
undo my part of it."

"You can
stop this," Asher said.  "Both of you.  Let's be adults here.  I'll
need to let you go, Solomon, but I'll sign a non-disclosure agreement about
your release.  For all anyone needs to know, you left the company for personal
reasons.  I'll give you a good benefits package and a brilliant reference to
anyone who wants to hire you, though I doubt you'll need it."

To Beatrice, he
added, "And you obviously never respected our marriage, Beatrice.  Why did
you have to do it this way, though?  Couldn't you talk to me like an equal and
explain that it wasn't working out?  I tried, I did everything I could to make
you happy, and you betray me like this?  If you wanted a divorce... I would
have done it.  I wouldn't have left you empty-handed, either.  We could have
worked it out."

"It's not
all about you, Asher!"  Beatrice nearly spat his name out.  "I do
want a divorce, but not on your terms.  I don't want to settle anything, I want
to rip it out of your hands.  I'm tired of you and your presumed kindness. 
You're altogether far too nice.  You take in people off the streets, like
Jeremy and Jessika.  You associate with the servants in the house as if they
were wonderful people.  It's ridiculous.  They aren't wonderful, they are hired
help.  We don't need to be friends with them, we need them to do their damn
jobs!"

"I'm sorry
you feel that way.  I really, truly am."

"Yes, well,
if you like them so much, then why don't I help you become like them?  That was
my thought process, you know?  It's wonderful, isn't it?  I'm a very loving
wife."

"How can
you be so mean?" I asked in a sudden outburst.  I was scared and worried
and anxious, but I needed to speak.  "Asher's so loving.  I don't
understand how you could hate him so much."

"Yes, well,
you wouldn't, would you?  My father treated Asher better than me most of the
time.  He acted like Asher was the son he wished he had.  I was just a bargaining
chip, really, to join our family's together.  I don't expect you to understand
that because you don't have the class to.  It's a simple reality and I knew
from the moment I met Asher that we'd need to marry.  A necessity and nothing
more, and now I can be rid of him and shame him in front of both our
families."

"And if I
tell your father?" Asher asked.

Beatrice
cackled, pretending to almost fall off her feet.  "Are we in kindergarten,
Asher?  Let's be real here.  Despite what my father thinks of you, he won't
care one bit for you or your words once you're living in ruins.  I'll be the
smart one who saw through your ruse, recognized your mistress for what she was,
and silently sold off my stocks in hopes of beginning a new life once I had
hard evidence of your indiscretions.  I'll be the woman every woman wishes she
was.  Strong, confident, independent."

"And you,
Solomon?"

"Sorry,
Asher, but I never much liked you.  You're too naive.  I can't even begin to
fathom half of your business plans.  Letting the regular office workers leave
early the other day?  That's just the most recent example, too.  Do you know
how much work we could have finished if they stayed?  You're far too nice for
this line of work, and I know you've made it thus far, but obviously that's
about to change.  You don't have the mettle to stop it."

"I'll go
get Jeremy," I whispered to Asher.  "If they won't listen to reason,
we can call the police."

Asher nodded. 

When I began to
leave, Beatrice screamed at me.  "Where do you think you're going?  Do you
think you can just leave here?"

"I gave you
a choice, Beatrice!  Solomon, too."  Asher sighed, looking to the ground. 
"I gave you both a choice and you rejected it.  You've forced my hand and
I have no other option but to retaliate in the only way left to me.  There's
plenty of evidence for me to hand over to the authorities and have you taken
into custody."

"You think
so, do you?" Solomon asked.  He paused and laughed.  "Wait a moment,
Jessika.  You won't want to leave yet."

I hesitated by
the close-together bookcases and looked over my shoulder.

The lights above
lit the area around us, but with their dull glow they left elongated shadows
from the bookcases.  The shadows seemed to consume parts of Asher, and
Solomon's lower body, Beatrice's left side.  Solomon reached into his suit
coat, slipping it aside as easily as if it were a shadow, and pulled out a gun.

I stared,
aghast, and then I screamed.

"Obviously
I didn't want it to come to this," Solomon said.  "If you're not
going to go down quietly, I'm going to have to force you down, though."

"Solomon,"
Asher said, even and steady.  He acted far more calm than I thought he should. 
"Do you really want to do this?"

"Dammit,
Asher!  Of course I don't want to.  If you're going to try and flaunt your
control and issue ultimatums then I'm going to show you who has the upper hand
here, though."  With a smirk, Solomon added, "Take a hint: it's not
you."

"This
wasn't in our plans, Solomon," Beatrice said slowly.  "We never
talked about this."

"I don't
care if it was in the plans or not.  If you want to ruin Asher Landseer, then
you have to be willing to take risks.  That's what this has been about the
entire time.  The rest of what we've done is illegal, too, if you haven't
realized it, Beatrice.  This is no different.  It's just going to be more
difficult to cover up after the fact, but I'm prepared to accept that."

"Fine,
but..."  Beatrice stammered.  It was the first time I'd seen her caught
off guard entirely.  "Fine.  If you think this is best, then so be
it."

"Are you
serious?" I yelled.  "Are both of you serious right now?  You want to
not only destroy Landseer Enterprises, but you're willing to kill Asher,
too?"

"You
wouldn't understand," Solomon said.  "You're from an entirely
different world.  In our world, in business, you have to take risks.  You can't
do things half-assed.  If you don't prepare to go all in, then you might as
well just leave before you start.  It's a simple premise, and one which people
like you would never understand."

"I can't do
this," I said.  "Asher, I'm sorry, but I don't understand this.  I'm
going to... I'm going to get help.  Please... please come."

I started to
wriggle my way between the bookcases.  Asher glanced over his shoulder at me,
favoring me with a sad look.  "Don't worry," he said.

I was halfway
through the impeding bookcases, I was going to get help, and then Solomon fired
the gun.  I couldn't see what he hit, who or where, but the sound of it blared
into my ears, momentarily deafening me.  I screamed and shoved myself through
the bookcases, trying to get help.  From Robert, or a customer, the police,
anyone.  For Asher.  They wouldn't kill him, they couldn't, and... if they did,
they would kill me, too.

I was afraid for
my life, but it was more than that, too.  People like Beatrice and Solomon,
they might think they understand themselves—
their world
, as they put
it—but there was so much more than that.  Yes, maybe I couldn't comprehend
being rich, but maybe I didn't want to, either.  Maybe I liked the way I was,
and maybe if I gained money as a part of that I'd be fine with it.  But it
wasn't necessary for my happiness, and I think Asher understood a bit of that,
too. 

He would, he had
to.  Asher didn't do things for money, but he had money because he did things. 
He loved and wanted and admired and adored.  He controlled his business, yes,
and he was overbearing at times, but it wasn't because he wanted money, it was
because he loved what he did.  It all made sense to me now.  He said he tried
to love Beatrice, and I'm sure he did, but he couldn't comprehend how to do it
because Beatrice didn't want to accept him.

I accepted him,
but it was more than that, too.  I allowed Asher to love me the way he needed
to love me.  A little dominating, sometimes infuriating, but that was Asher and
if I wanted a part of him, then I needed all of him.  He never pushed me too
hard, but just enough.  He never...

I loved Asher so
very much and I felt my heart racing at the thought of it.  My fear tangled
with my love, fighting for space in my chest, and I could barely breathe at the
mass of emotion.  Asher was dying.  Solomon shot him.  I needed to get away
from here, not only because Asher had asked me to, but because he couldn't
die.  I'd call the police, get an ambulance.  They'd save him.  I would ride
with him to the hospital and make sure he was safe and...

"Go!"
Beatrice screamed.  "Go after her!"

"Why did
you do that?" Solomon asked.

What were they
talking about?  I had no idea.

"Go!"

Solomon pursued
me.  I escaped from between the bookcases and into more open territory, except
with unwanted tears blurring my vision I didn't know where I was.  Where did I
go, what did I do?  I bolted for a bright light, unsure exactly where it was
but thinking I should go towards it.  To the store, to the front.  I could
close the door behind me and lock Solomon in while I ran to Robert and we
called for help.

I ran, faster,
tripping over the scattered remnants of bookcases and shelves and metal rods. 
My feet felt heavy and thick like I'd worn tight shoes all day and had just
taken them off.  My blouse caught on a shattered piece of a bookcase, ripping
when I pulled at it in my frantic escape.

I heard Solomon
behind me, dodging past wooden debris, chasing me.  He ran fast, faster, and when
I glanced over my shoulder at him I saw him toting his gun around, the metal
gleaming in the dull light from above.

I dashed forward
towards the bright light, expecting to escape and settle this, except the large
loading dock door blocked my way.  I stared, dumbfounded. 

I hadn't run
towards the door connecting the storage area to the shop; I'd run to the unused
loading dock in the complete opposite direction.

Solomon gained
on me and, seeing me stricken and still, slowed his pursuit.  He jogged the rest
of the way, moving towards me at a leisurely pace.  I stared at him, beyond
him, but I couldn't do it for long, couldn't stand to see him approach. 
Looking down, afraid and ashamed, feeling distress at having tried so hard and
failed, I noticed something odd.

It didn't quite
stick in my mind as to how, or why, but the loading dock door was open.  Not by
much, just about half a foot off the ground, but enough that...

I fell to the
ground, scrambling forward, trying to crawl beneath the door.  It was a tight
fit—too tight—but this was a matter of life or death.  If I could escape, if
I could...

"Do you
really think it's that easy?" Solomon asked.

He pointed the
gun straight at me with his finger poised next to the trigger.

"Please,"
I said.  "Please don't do this."

Solomon's finger
pulled back, slow and steady.  With the gun aimed at my head and with me an
easy target, prone on the ground, there was no way he could miss me.  I closed
my eyes, felt the helplessness of my feet dangling in the air.  My futile
escape amounted to nothing, because now I was dead.

A heavy crack
rippled through the air.  That's it, I thought.  He's fired, and in half a
second I'm dead.  Half a second passed by, but I still felt alive.  And
another, then a few seconds more, and...

"Are you
going to stay down there or what?" Jeremy asked.

I blinked, once,
twice, and opened my eyes.  Solomon lay crumpled on the ground, his body lying
in an unnatural pose, limbs akimbo, head twisted and looking up at the ceiling
with his eyes glossy and disoriented.  Behind him, standing, was Jeremy with a
half-broken piece of plank in his hands; apparently the remnants of a bookcase
shelf.

"Where's
Asher?" he asked.

"Jeremy,
help, please.  I need to... I'm stuck.  Jeremy!"  I clawed at the floor,
trying to free myself from being stuck under the loading dock door.

Exasperated,
nearly crying—why was Jeremy crying?—he ran over and pulled me loose.  He
helped me stand and hugged me tight.

"Jessika,
where's Asher?  He sent me a text that said 'help.'  I went around back and saw
this door and figured... well, I figured I'd pull a you and sneak in to see if
I could help, but then I heard you screaming and saw Solomon chase you.  I hid
and waited and thank God I did because... I just can't even believe this.  This
is too crazy."

"Asher,"
I whispered.  "Jeremy, he shot him.  Solomon shot Asher.  I was trying to
get help and I heard it and..."

"Let's
go," he said.

I nodded and
ran, trying to explain to Jeremy where to go.  I didn't even know where, barely
knew how to navigate the bookstore storage warehouse, but Jeremy seemed to get
the hang of it.  He knew something, maybe a sixth sense?  I don't know, not
exactly, but we rushed back to where they were and I saw Beatrice kneeling at
Asher's side.

He was dead, there
was blood, and...

"I don't
hate you," Beatrice said, pushing back his hair.  "I never really
hated you, Asher.  I wish we had talked more.  Maybe... I just don't hate you. 
I don't know why Solomon did that.  I don't want you to die."