The Billion Dollar Contract: The Executive Collection (38 page)

The person knocked again. “Jasmine?” she heard. “What’s the matter?”

Fuck. No.
It wasn’t him. No. Nope.

Not Ethan Cole standing outside her ratty apartment door in plain trousers and a plainer cotton shirt. Nope. Not him. Couldn’t possibly be, because that would be
awful.

“Jasmine!”

She slowly turned, face pale and hands clammy. Her hand rested on the handle and attempted to turn it, but she couldn’t. Because then he would see where – and how – she lived.

“Oh come on already. It’s cold out here.”

Jasmine unlatched the door and opened it as far as she dared. Ethan’s face was right up against the crack, his eyes boring into hers. “What are you doing here?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “Thought I’d come visit. Never seen where you live. It’s, uh… well, could you let me in?”

The moment Jasmine heard dogs barking and police sirens start sounding, she opened the door wide and hurried him inside. She had never locked her door so quickly before, and she once had the sounds of gunshots following her on the way home.

Ethan stood in the middle of her living room, taking in the sights of a stained couch and carpet and the peeling wallpaper. He then sniffed, his aftershave unable to combat the smell of mildew and cat. To his credit Ethan tried to pass it off as “the cold bothering my nose,” but he had no idea that he was purposely sidestepping the carpet stains. “So this is where you live.”

“Yeah, quaint, huh? Now why are you really here… and don’t tell me you parked your stupid Ferrari in the parking lot because you can say goodbye to it.”

“I did not. I took a cab here from my penthouse.”

“You could’ve just called me to come over.”

Ethan did not react. “Like I said, I wanted to see where you live.”

“Next time call first. I just got out of the shower. What if I had been in there when you showed up? A rich looking guy like you left out there? Front page news. Because you’re dead.” Jasmine pulled the towel holding her hair up off and marched toward her bedroom. “Excuse me. Gonna get dressed.”

“But you look good in that pink towel.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes at him before escaping into her room and shutting the door firmly behind her.

She changed into a baggy white T-shirt and a pair of cotton boxer shorts. Nothing sexy at all, but it was her home and like hell she was going to dress up for anyone in that shithole. She did, however, attempt to comb out her hair to make it look less like a damned mess, but there was only so much she could do when it was still wet and she didn’t like to blow dry it.
He’s seen it wet before.
Man liked his morning showers.

A thump summoned her from her bedroom. Oh no. Someone had followed Ethan in and was probably kidnapping him for ransom.

Well, she was half right. When Jasmine walked back out into the living room she found Ethan hunched down on the floor, a piece of string dangling from his hand.

And a fat, tub of lard cat losing its shit on the other end.

“Nope. Not fast enough.” Ethan jerked the string away before Blackbeard could snatch it from his hand. “Damn, you’re huge.”

As if to retaliate, Blackbeard thumped to the floor, scared himself, and dashed beneath the couch. Ethan was left to contemplate this turn of events as the cat’s tail swished back and forth like a fishing lure.

“I didn’t know you liked cats.”

Ethan stood up and looked at her, but it wasn’t until he had composed himself that he realized he was still holding the cat toy. He dropped it. “I like them fine.”

Jasmine gazed at him for a bit longer before containing a laugh and going to her couch. Her bare feet rubbed against Blackbeard’s tail, and the buxom brute yowled as if he had been offended. Jasmine sat on the couch above him.

“Well?” she asked Ethan, pulling a patchwork quilt over her lap. “You just gonna stand there like an idiot? Or are you going to act like a normal person in someone else’s home?”

He took a step back, face scrunching in that way that said he wasn’t used to being treated like this. “Not sure if I want to, if you’re going to be rude like that.” There was a hint of a smirk beneath his lips.

“This is my domain, Mr. Cole. It may not be much. In fact, it may be a cess pit, but it’s mine. If you get to be king of your big castles, then me and the cat here get the run of this place. Sit your ass down and watch TV with me.” Blackbeard’s tale smacked against Jasmine’s ankle in agreement.

After a staring contest that lasted more than its share of seconds, Ethan crossed the small room to join Jasmine on the couch.

He made the mistake of trying to plop into it like he would one of his sofas, and the broken springs of Jasmine’s couch absorbed him, much to his great surprise. Ethan caught himself on the arm of the couch and steadied his body, the cat continuing to growl as if he were about to crush it – considering he was beneath Jasmine, that would’ve been a feat.

“Hope you’re not hungry. I already ate. And don’t have enough to go around.”

Ethan sat up straight, hands on his knees. “I’m fine. I ate at home.”

“Anything good?” Jasmine had a can of soup and some toast. She wasn’t a millionaire
yet.

“Chinese.”

“Take out?”

“Indeed.”

“Hmph.” Jasmine wanted some take out. But the last time she had Chinese in her apartment, Blackbeard got huffy because he wasn’t allowed to bathe in hot and sour soup. Jasmine ended up giving him more of the beef than she got to eat in order to placate him.

“By the way,” Ethan said as Jasmine picked up her remote and turned on the TV. “This couch is rather… moist.”

“You think I don’t know that? You get used to it.” Jasmine had no idea why her couch was spongy. It had been like that ever since she moved it in there. Granted, she picked it up for free on the street corner… “You’re such a whiner, Mr. Cole. This isn’t the Ritz. We’re watching The Lord of the Rings because I feel like being tortured.” The movie was already halfway over, but the sheer amount of commercials would drag it on another three hours anyway.

“Tortured? What’s wrong with Lord of the Rings?”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Of course I’ve seen it. Who hasn’t seen it?”

“I dunno, just never pegged you as the fantasy movie type.” Granted, Jasmine hadn’t seen his movie collection as he kept his media behind oak cabinets in his office, bedroom, and living room. He had none in the penthouse. The one time they watched a movie that was on TV.

“I’ll have you know that I am a walking bad fantasy movie library. Ever seen Krull?”

“No, but from the title alone it sounds bad. Amazingly bad.”

“Oh, it is.”

I still don’t know why you’re here.
Jasmine wrapped the quilt tighter around her body, letting Blackbeard flick his fluffy tail against her ankle. Ethan was left to fend for himself on the other side of the couch while Legolas cried about hobbits and Isengard.
Bet he’s never seen that YouTube video.
Jasmine got up to get them both some tea. Cheap tea. Not the fancy tea that Ethan served in Chinese antiques. He didn’t complain about Lipton’s cheap fare. Just that the couch was kinda soggy.

“I would totally sex up Viggo Mortensen.”
Just gonna throw that out there.

Ethan held his tea mug to his lips while he glared at her from the corner of his eyes. “I would say me too, but you might take that seriously.”

“I would never let you live that down, for sure.”

Blackbeard slinked out from beneath the sofa, his bulbous body waddling across the living room floor before collapsing like a damned bridge beneath the coffee table of crates and cardboard. Before long he was on his back, fluffy belly exposed to the air while his tail flicked and his paws kneaded the air.

“I miss having a cat.” Ethan’s arm rested on top of the couch. “Haven’t had one in years.”

“You can have him. He eats a bag of food a day. I’m gonna spend that three million on only him, just you watch.”

“In that case I’ll give you four.”

“Five.”

“Four and a half.”

Before long Jasmine found herself succumbing to this man’s whims once more. It was easy when Ethan was being so casual –
in my home! –
and only a bit of a butthead. But Jasmine liked that aspect of him. She liked a man who could banter and joke with her without going for the jugular. Those who were too uptight for humor got the boot quickly. Those who were so rude that they couldn’t “joke” without offending had no room in Jasmine’s life. She was willing to put up with a lot for the sake of three million dollars, but Ethan Cole had thus far managed to only endear himself more and more to her. And that pissed her off.

Yet she didn’t hold herself back from lying across his legs, her cheek nestling into his lap while his hand clapped onto her side. She stayed quiet until another commercial break, in which she said, “This is the first time I’ve ever had my head in your lap and no dick in my mouth.”

She felt him instantly tense up beneath her head. “Well that’s something.”

“I’m not gonna do it right now either.”

“Wasn’t going to ask.”

“Good.” Whatever the material of Ethan’s pants were, they were soft against Jasmine’s skin. So was his hand as it stroked the top of her head and then burrowed beneath her quilt to join her T-shirt. Ethan came precariously close to her breast but did not venture farther.

If this were a date, then this was the weirdest date Jasmine had ever been on.

What did Ethan want? What were his goals in coming over here late Friday night? What motivated him from his comfortable,
clean
penthouse to this lower class sty? The more Jasmine dwelled on it, the more she wanted to ask him. But she was afraid of his answer. What if he came into her home simply for sex? But then he would have been forward about it. This was the man who came into the stupid supply closet to screw her brains out.
This is the man who, upon meeting me, offered me millions of dollars to fuck him for six months.
She needed to stop thinking about it.

Her reprieve – and alarm – came when a large thump sounded on her door.

She only panicked a little bit. Panicked because it was so late and because a billionaire was in her place. What if it were someone come to kidnap him? But she quickly recognized that thump-thump-thump. Three in a row. The way Juan knocked.

28

“Yo, Jasmine!” Juan knocked once more while his friend fumbled off the couch and shuffled toward the door, quilt still wrapped around her. “Open up! I’ve got beer!”

She unlocked one of the deadbolts but not the chain. The door creaked open, and there was Juan standing on her stoop with a six-pack in his hand. “What?” she asked, keeping the door closed so her friend would not see Ethan back on her couch.

“Lord of the Rings is on. Let’s take a drink every time Orlando makes a dumb face.”

“I’m kinda busy right now…”

Juan attempted to peer into her apartment, but to no avail. “What’s that now? Unless you’re going to bed early, I don’t know why we can’t hang out.”

“I already have someone over.”

“What? Who?”

“Just… someone from work.”

Juan was about to respond when he stared over Jasmine’s head.

“Hello there.”

While the Fellowship did their thing on TV, Ethan Cole stood a little too close to Jasmine for her comfort. Close enough for Juan to see him clearly.
Great.
Jasmine unlatched the chain and opened the door the rest of the way, allowing a terrible draft in. And allowing Juan and Ethan to look at each other in the most awkward silence possible.

“Hi, I’m Ethan.” He extended his hand through the doorway, and Juan shook it precariously. “I work with her.”

“Yeah…” Juan tilted his head. “You look familiar. What did you say your name was?”

“Ethan. And I get that a lot.”

“Sorry, Juan. If I knew you were coming over…”

“Nah, it’s cool!” Oh, Jasmine knew it was cool. Even with Ethan standing there like her bodyguard.
No, that’s Juan around these parts.
“Just surprised, that’s all.”