Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(119)
“I guess,” I said. If I gave in for now, agreed to his requirements, then I thought I could stay with him for just a little longer. If I changed my mind tomorrow, what would he do? Our time together would be spent and done already. “When do you want to do this? I have the weekend free.”
“As soon as we finish our meal,” he said.
“What?” I stared at him, blinking.
“You’ve heard the requirements. Do you agree or not?”
“I…” I couldn’t do that! I was… well, not yet, but I could become drunk if the waiter kept bringing us more sake. And, sexy? How was I supposed to be sexy? I knew a thing or two about it, and I understood the general premise, but I highly doubted I could look as appealing as the women in some of the photographs I’d seen before. Not to mention I didn’t even know exactly what kind of photography he did. He said it was intimate and female, but that was vague enough to be almost anything.
“Do you agree or not?” he asked, repeating himself.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Good,” he said with a wicked grin. Picking up his chopsticks, he grabbed a piece of vegetable tempura; one of the fried sweet potatoes. “Excellent choice on the tempura, by the way. These are delicious. I haven’t had them in forever.”
His Absolute Instructions
*
I never thought I was sexy. That isn’t to say I thought I was unattractive, but there’s a difference between sexiness and an acceptable look. Everyone has something nice about their personal appearance, but that doesn’t mean they have that je ne sais quoi sexual appeal.
I dressed as nicely as I could, though, wearing nice looking skirts and blouses. Maybe I bought my clothes at Macy’s or J.C. Penney, but they looked good. Probably not as fashionable as women in Asher Landseer’s tier, but I could buy ten full outfits with what they paid for a single blouse. I owned shelves full of body scrubs, soaps, facial cleansers, and a ton of other woman’s essentials for my early morning routine when I was getting ready for the day. I loved to take baths, used rose, sandalwood, and green tea scented shampoo, and splurged on the more expensive conditioners.
I looked nice; I liked how I looked. Blonde, average weight, a little bit of a tan from the tanning machines at the gym where I shared a membership with a friend. I kept in shape, ate as well as I could, and cared about my appearance. Cosmetics, styling my hair, making sure my clothes were fresh and clean and without wrinkles.
Still, that didn’t make me sexy. I was sure men found me attractive enough, and I’d had boyfriends in the past. Sex, compliments, and everything that went along with relationships.
But…
When Asher Landseer, the billionaire CEO of Landseer Enterprises asked to take sexy photos of me, I balked.
It was a requirement, he said. Not a requirement of his choosing, either, but mine. At least it was mine in a way. I could say no, I could disagree, but if I wanted him to agree to what I’d asked of him, then I needed to accept his requirement.
A small part of me wanted to run away right then. What was I getting myself into? He’d invited me to a restaurant to discuss something and that was it. Granted, he wanted to discuss me possibly becoming an egg donor and surrogate mother for him and his wife, so the situation was already awkward, but this just made it worse.
He teased me, tormented me, except I thought he didn’t mean it in a bad way. An accident, like someone who was unsure how to proceed. Thinking back to what I’d done, I felt the same. Why did I curl my toes, let them trace towards his crotch and his stiffening manhood hidden beneath his pants. He’d offered me a calf massage and nothing more, and I was the one who took it further. Asher was the one who elevated it, almost getting me off with his foot, but then it stopped.
And started. And stopped.
Sitting in our private booth at The Simple Path, a luxurious Japanese restaurant, I answered him.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Good,” he said with a deliciously deviant grin on his face.
I wanted to kiss him so badly, but he reached for a piece of battered and fried sweet potato from our vegetable tempura plate. Why was I sitting next to him now? I’d started across the table, less intimate, and now here I was, sitting elbow to elbow with him, the Asher Landseer.
It was the sake. I was never a good drinker, always quick to get a bit of a buzz, and we’d gone through three cups of the drink already. Not drunk, not by a long shot, but I wanted an excuse. I needed a reason to stay near him, desired it. As per our agreement, I would answer him about surrogacy when I was good and ready, and not a moment sooner, and he would spend the day with me until I did. Was that selfish? Who had the better part of the deal there? It was his idea, a type of control, or the giving away of it, but what did he really want out of this?