He moved closer, put his hands around my waist, and brought his face almost even with mine. I wasn’t sure what I should do, so I lifted one arm up and put it around his neck while the other just hung there, loosely. My God, this was confusing. Were we going to… was he going to? He looked like he might kiss me. The smell of his cologne intoxicated me; jasmine with a hint of vanilla and a sensual, leathery musk undertone. My mouth opened slightly, preparing for his lips to touch mine.
“Jessika,” he said. “I’m sorry about before. I’ll buy you a new shirt, you don’t have to worry about that.”
“No,” I said, confused. “It’s fine. Really.”
“I’m married and I feel like my behavior was out of line.”
“No!” I said again. “It’s fine. I enjoyed it, I…”
“You’re an attractive woman and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, too, but that wasn’t the point. I got carried away, and…”
Argh! I wanted to press my lips against his, kiss him, make him want to pull me close and do it all over again, except the only thing I managed to do was say, “If you think I deserve more punishment then I accept that and you can do it again if you’d like.”
“Oh, Jessika.” He laughed, but there was some undeniable twinkle in his eye. Or, I thought there was, but when I tried to figure it out, it was gone just as quick.
And then he asked me, “I know this is sudden, but would you consider becoming an egg donor for me and my wife? I’ll need to discuss it with her first, but I believe she’ll accept the idea. You’ll need to carry the child, too, but I’ll make certain you’re comfortable. I can arrange for you to have suitable living quarters in my home for the duration of your pregnancy.”
“There’s no need to donate,” I blurted out. “We can just have sex…” I realized what I’d said before I finished, and the words hung there, awkward.
He stared at me for a brief moment, stared into me, and then he laughed again. Moving his hands away from my hips, he stepped away and walked to his office door.
“I…” I said, trying to think of something to say. Something witty, or sexy, or funny, or intelligent, but I couldn’t manage any of those.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” he asked. “Let’s arrange a lunch date. I’ll let you know what Beatrice thinks, and you can let me know if you’ll agree, too. Consider your answer ample repayment for the book, whether you agree or not. Those are my conditions. I won’t accept anything else.”
And, he left.
I stood there, stunned, staring at the door to his office. Did he just ask me out on a date? Not a real date, I guess, but…
I scrambled to clean the rest of his office, completely forgetting about my clothes. When I finished, I retrieved my outfit and put it on as best I could, but the shirt was ruined. Before I could worry about it, someone knocked on the door, opened it a crack, and slipped a package through and onto the floor before closing the door again and leaving.
Curious, I walked over to the package. On the top, written in a hasty scrawl, was a note that said, “Ms. Fevrier, courtesies of Asher Landseer.”
I opened the package. Inside was the most beautiful silk chemise dress I’d ever seen. I held it up to get a better look, marveling at it. It was shorter than anything I usually wore, the skirt stopping at the middle of my thigh, but it was wonderful.
I pinched the soft, silk fabric between my fingers and gawked at the lovely pattern colored into it; a cloudy sky on the left side, going from collarbone to hip, with a rich, red rose blooming up towards the right breast, and a deep green field from the waist down. A lighthearted but fashionable piece of clothing, the sort of thing I could wear to a casual spring ball(if I were ever invited to one). Had he really just replaced my cheap blouse with an expensive dress? When I turned it around to look at the back, two pieces of paper slipped out of the sleeve and fell to the ground.
One was a receipt, with a price I thought couldn’t possibly be right. It was a beautiful dress, but was it really that pricey?
The other was a personal note from Asher Landseer: “If you don’t like the dress, feel free to return it. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon. Meet me at The Simple Path. Reservations are under Asher Landseer. Don’t be late.”#p#分页标题#e#
His Absolute Requirements
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I didn’t know what to wear for my meet up with Asher. He’d called it a date(or a lunch date to be specific), but I had a hard time thinking of it as such. That’s what the upper class called these things, wasn’t it? A lunch date wasn’t anything more than a business meeting at a restaurant for someone like Asher Landseer.