Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(152)
“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 formality 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.
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“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.
“I mean no offense, but I politely disagree that you don’t gain much from them.”
“It wasn’t,” she said, “a point of contention. There is no disagreement, but merely absolute facts. Fortunately Asher has good enough sense to manage his business life admirably, so he can afford to waste some time with frivolous entertainment like reading fiction, but…”
“Beatrice,” Asher said from behind me. He walked into the dining hall wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a casual, button-down shirt. “Jessika is our guest. Let’s try to at least give her a little time to get comfortable before bombarding her with questions.”
“Asher!” Beatrice said. She lit up, smiling, except I felt like it wasn’t real. Some ruse, a falsity, fake smile, fake happiness. “Come, give me a kiss. I’ve missed you.”
He walked over to her side of the table, smiling. He didn’t look happy, either, but not necessarily faking it. Just distracted? Confused? I wasn’t sure.