The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake(10)

He saw her heading off with one of the waitstaff and jogged to catch up. "Greer!"

She turned and her face paled at the sight of him. Her mouth firmed  into an angry line of distaste, and then she picked up her skirts and  continued to walk away.

Yeah, he was definitely on the shit list.         

     



 

That didn't deter him, though. Asher headed after her, following her  into the house and catching up despite her efforts to hurry. "Hey, wait  up. I think we need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you, Asher." She didn't turn to look at him.

He reached out and clasped her arm, noting how warm her skin was, and  how soft. And damn it all if he didn't start to get another  inappropriate boner. His body really needed to learn to calm the fuck  down. "Just give me five minutes of your time, all right? Then I'll  leave you alone."

She exchanged a look with the waitress, and then nodded at her. "I'll  be inside in a minute. Go ahead." When the woman left, Greer sighed and  turned back to him, smoothing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.  "What is it, Asher? I'm very busy tonight with the party."

"I can imagine. This is a terrific party. I should have known you were  behind it." He knew she'd done weddings for some top-notch clients in  New York and always took her job extremely seriously. Of course she'd  put on a spectacular party for her father. "Listen. I feel like the last  time we saw each other, we . . . well, we fucked up."

Her eyebrows went up.

Shit. That was apparently the wrong thing to say. "I mean, it was a  fuckup, but not that fucking you was a mistake." God, where was his  suaveness when he needed it? Why was he all diarrhea of the mouth when  it came to Greer? He could sweet talk anyone, but the moment he came  close to her, he babbled like a schoolboy. "Not that I think we should  have fucked, of course. We're friends, and friends don't sleep with each  other. Not if they want to stay friends. And you've been avoiding me.  We haven't had our Mondays in the last few months."

"No, we haven't."

"It doesn't have to be Mondays, you know. It can be any other day. Or  it doesn't have to be lunch. It can be anytime you need it to be if your  schedule is all screwed." He frowned to himself. "I should probably  stop saying the word screwed, shouldn't I?"

Her arms crossed over her chest, pressing her dress tighter against her  body. "Is this conversation going somewhere, Asher? Like I said, I'm  very busy tonight."

Greer's tits looked magnificent in that dress, he realized. They'd been  small, perfect handfuls the night they'd slept together and now they  seemed . . . doubly abundant. "Did you get a boob job?"

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "I need to go."

Fuck, why did he say that? "Sorry. It's none of my business. Listen."  He reached out and grabbed her elbow when she turned to leave, stopping  her. "The reason why I wanted to talk to you tonight is because I was  behaving like an ass that night. I was drunk and I wasn't myself. I was  just lost in misery and in booze, and if I'd been thinking straight, I  would have never dragged you off to the gardens and slept with you." And  damn if that didn't sound all wrong, too. "Not because you're not  attractive, Greer. You are."

"You're not winning me over, Asher." Her voice sounded hard. "Did you  truly come to this party just to tell me that you find me repulsive and  you wouldn't have slept with me if you were sober?"

"What? No, that's not what I meant at all. You're hot. I mean, hell,  you look smoking hot in that dress tonight." She was all lush curves,  which was surprising given that his memories of her were of her  daintiness. But her body had changed in the last couple of months. And  something about that was bothering him. "I just . . . don't think we  should have done that. As friends."

"On that, I agree completely. May I go now?"

Why wasn't she thawing toward him? He remembered Greer as all soft, shy  smiles for him. They'd been friends, good friends. The cool, remote  stranger in front of him . . . well, it reminded him of Stijn and the  politely disinterested-because-you-are-dirt-to-me expression he wore at  all times. "I just . . . you're a good friend and I don't want to lose  you."         

     



 

"We can't change what happened, Asher." She hadn't thawed an inch. One  of the waitstaff moved nearby with an enormous cake, and she delicately  sidestepped on the path to allow them more room. As she did, the long  hem of her skirt got caught in a nearby bush and pulled taut against her  body, outlining a slightly rounded stomach.

Asher's eyes widened as realization struck him. "Greer . . . are you pregnant?"

She bit her lip and averted her gaze.

Oh fuck. She was pregnant.

"Is it . . . Is it mine?"

She looked back up again. Her eyes narrowed. She crooked her finger at him, indicating he should lean down. He did-

-And she delivered a ringing slap to his face.

"Go fuck yourself, Asher. I never want to see you again." And she stormed away into the house.

Asher rubbed his jaw and watched her leave, shocked. He supposed he  deserved that. Once again, his idiot mouth had run away with him. Of  course it was his. Greer had never dated in all the time he'd known her.  She'd been content to sit on the sidelines, as if waiting for  something.

Or someone.

She's carried a torch for you since, like, grade school.

Well, it was clear she no longer carried a torch for him. It had turned  to a brand of flaming hate. Just when he'd seen her-really, really seen  her-and wanted more than friendship from her, he'd gone and fucked it  up.

And now Greer was pregnant with his child.

All right, then. He needed to fix this. He could fix this. Asher rubbed  his stinging jaw and grinned, oblivious to the strange looks that the  passing waitstaff gave him. Greer had loved him for years. Three months  of hate couldn't undo years of longing. He'd just have to make things  better. He'd have to show her that he was an idiot-though he'd done a  pretty good job of that tonight, really-and win her back.

Winning her back would be the tricky part. He'd have to be around her,  and for longer than a brief moment, so his brain could stop  short-circuiting at the thought of her breasts and he could actually  hold a decent conversation with her. Greer herself would make that  difficult, though. She never wanted to see him again, and she'd  successfully avoided him for the last three months. All right, then.  He'd have to somehow maneuver her into a situation in which she couldn't  avoid him. As he walked back to the party and rejoined the crowd, his  brain worked furiously.

When his gaze landed on Stijn again, surrounded by his three matched beauties, the perfect solution hit him.

***

The next morning, bright and early, Asher returned to the Janssen castle to meet with Stijn, and he brought his checkbook.

Greer's father met him in his study, a surprisingly modern and opulent  room given the bizarre medieval look of the rest of the house. "I'm glad  you came today," Stijn said, greeting him with an insincere smile and a  handshake.

"Very much so," Asher lied as the man led him into the room and they both sat. "How's your daughter today?"

For a moment, Stijn's expression grew puzzled. "As far as I know, she is fine. Why do you ask?"

"Because she's pregnant with my child."

Stijn didn't pause. He opened a box on his desk and pulled out a cigar,  then snipped the end off of it. "Forgive me, Mr. Sutton, but I thought  you were coming here today to talk about financials."

Cold bastard. "I'm getting there." He relaxed in his chair. "Your company's in trouble, isn't it?"

Stijn lit the cigar and took a puff before answering. "Anyone can look  at our quarterly reports and see that profit margins have been growing  narrower over time. I'm afraid with the Internet, it's becoming  increasingly difficult to compete with free porn websites."

"I'm prepared to purchase an extremely large share of stock in  Dutchman," Asher said bluntly. "As much as it takes to gain control of  the company."

Stijn froze. He studied Asher for a moment, then placed the cigar in an ashtray. "Go on."         

     



 

"I'm willing to pump money into your company to keep it afloat.  Whatever you need. My company's worth billions now and increasing more  every day. I can help you turn things around. I've got the capital to do  so."

"That is very generous of you. And what do you want from me?"

"I want you to get married."

His eyebrows went up, and his expression reminded Asher of Greer. "You what?" Stijn repeated.

"I want you to get married," Asher said again.

"I've never married."

"Now's a great time then, don't you think?"

"I have three girlfriends. Triplets." He put a finger to his ashtray,  nudging it idly. "How am I supposed to choose between them?"