The Billion Dollar Contract: The Executive Collection (5 page)

Jackson-Cole was her first chance in many months to get out of her paycheck-to-paycheck cycle. It didn’t help that she had over forty thousand dollars in student loans breathing down her neck, or that dietary restrictions meant buying food she could barely afford, or that…

I need a job so badly.
A steady one, where she knew how much she was getting every month –
Thirty bucks an hour! –
and even had insurance so she could go to the doctor for the first time in a year.

“You guys know anyone with a sugar daddy?”

Both Juan and Selena eased away from her on the couch. “Sugar daddy?” Selena asked. “You mean like some old rich guy paying your bills while you go out with him?”

“That’s what it usually means, yeah.”

“No. No we can’t say we know anyone,” Juan said.

“Speak for yourself! Back in high school I had this friend who had a sugar daddy. Guy was a real creep. Only met him once, but I was so skeeved out I refused to be around him ever again. It was clear that he was using her for sex. But she wasn’t complaining because he bought her all sorts of nice stuff and paid for her first year of college. I don’t talk to her anymore though. No idea what happened.”

“That’s intense.” Juan folded his arms behind his head. His legs spread out and took up most of the room, forcing Selena and Jasmine to shuffle to the farther ends.
Thanks.
“Seems like it would be more work than it’s worth finding some rich guy to pay for your crap. Getting a regular job would be easier.”

“You might be surprised,” Jasmine mumbled. “I mean, you’d be surprised how forward some men can be.”

The movie and beer night came to an end shortly after that. Selena picked up her brother and took him out into the cold, loud night where sirens continued to go off and an angry dog barked loud enough to send Blackbeard hissing under the couch. The only thing Jasmine could see was her cat’s giant, poufy black tail swishing against the moldy linoleum.

“What in the world am I going to do?” Jasmine knew it was a hopeless question to ask the cosmos. And by the cosmos she meant the image of Neil deGrasse Tyson, who popped up on her TV as soon as she shut off the movie.

Too bad I can’t just peace off of Earth.
No, not by some terrible end. Jasmine wanted to get on a spaceship and go out into the universe, where she had a good reason to be single and jobless.
I’m exploring space for the good of mankind. No need for a boyfriend or a job out there!
The loneliness would probably destroy her, but it was better than sitting in this craphole of an apartment and… damn, who would feed the cat?

“What do you think?” Blackbeard was now on her lap, purring and oozing himself all over the end of the couch. Jasmine patted him on the rump before glancing at the end table and seeing the wadded up paper Ethan Cole gave her earlier.

She had meant to throw it out. In fact she thought that she had thrown it out somewhere in the office. But when she came home she realized it was still stuck in her fist, and instead of tossing it into the nearest trash can Jasmine left it on her end table.
That was a bad idea.
Now she stared at it, as if she were Superman and this piece of paper radiated Kryptonite.
If I call him, I can make a million dollars. Two million dollars.
It was almost tempting.

Jasmine was in a dangerous place. For all she knew, this still was a prank of some sort. Still, as she stared at the number, written in Ethan Cole’s meticulous handwriting, she couldn’t help but think of the man who offered her the proposition of a lifetime. Handsome. Astute.
Rich.
He was the full package as far as ultimate fantasies were concerned.
I still can’t believe it.
He was also arrogant, demanding, and God knew what else. In the span of fifteen minutes, Jasmine had seen so many sides to Ethan that it seemed impossible to look beyond any of them. Why would she want to work for a man who thought he could buy women based on his sexual whims? Let alone date one!
Would I be a prostitute? An escort? A sugar baby?

That was just when she considered the work. Being the personal assistant to one of the most powerful men in the country certainly had its appeal. She would go for it if that’s all it was. But sex, too? Ethan didn’t know anything about her. His instant attraction – lust, really – for her was based purely on her appearance. In a way it was flattering. How could it not be? Ethan Cole thought she was beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. That was a big enough compliment to fuel Jasmine’s ego for a month.
He thinks I’m so hot he’s offering me money for sex!
He didn’t even want it for free. Two million bucks to fuck him?

But it was perpetual. A contract. Who the hell did that?
He wants me to be his sexual submissive…
Jasmine only had a vague idea of what that meant. Cuffs? Blindfolds? Orgasm denial? She had read the fantasy books and seen the more innocent stuff play out in softcore movies. Jasmine never once thought that she would be into that, but maybe…

No, dumbass!
Really? Be sexually submissive to a man – even if it was Ethan Cole – for a boatload of cash? Tax free? What would Jasmine do with so much money?
Move. Invest. Retire early.
She saw a future living on the outskirts of the city, or maybe in a country abode where rent was cheap and she didn’t have to worry about finding work. Pick up a hobby that could bring in some spare change, but didn’t have to be her livelihood. Help out her friends and volunteer more. Hell, she’d ship Selena and Juan off with a hefty chunk of change if they would accept it. The more Jasmine thought about carrying around two-million dollars, the more she almost gave in to the temptations.

But Ethan Cole.

She could see him sitting in front of her, giving her that pensive look of his that said he knew what he was about and that he wanted her. Jasmine hadn’t noticed it earlier. She may have been dreaming it up now. But she swore that man burned his lust into her soul and made her rebel against him because that’s what she thought she was supposed to do. Good girls didn’t give themselves to powerful men. Certainly not for money. Good girls went into debt to get a degree and then give themselves to the mean teat of capitalism. Jasmine smoothed out Ethan Cole’s note across her lap and stared at her cell phone beside her.

Was she a good girl?

4

“Hello.” That voice, deep yet so soft, drifted into Jasmine’s ear as she held the phone to her head. “Who is calling?”

The way he said it implied he damn well knew who was calling. “Jasmine. Jasmine Bliss.”

“Ah, Miss Bliss. Have you reconsidered my offer?”

Damn jerk jumped right into it! Jasmine could picture him now, sitting behind that huge desk as he signed some document and spoke into the phone. Of course, he was probably home by now. Or did billionaires still stay late after work to finish their acquisitions and mergers? Inquiring minds wanted to know.

Jasmine had some choice words for Mr. Cole before this went on any further. Yet as she opened her mouth, he said, “I want you to know, Miss Bliss, that I have been thinking about you ever since you left this office. My original intention was to write you off and to continue with my search. But there was something about that fire inside of you – the way you told me off, for sure – that made me reconsider and decide to hold out hope that you would call. And here you are.”

Don’t make me regret this.
“That’s sweet.” She had to say it through gritted teeth to keep from snapping at him. But then he would probably think she was an even bigger piece of meat to buy. “I was in fact wondering if the offer was still on the table.”

“Of course it is. Why? Have you reconsidered?”

“Now hold on.” Blackbeard rubbed against Jasmine’s bare legs, mewling. Except he was a huge fat cat, and mewling sounded more like choking on a piece of hot dog.
That’s my libido state right now.
“I have a few questions before I sign any dotted line. Specifically about the… well, you know what.”

“Naturally. It’s a good and shrewd businesswoman who knows to ask questions. I don’t blame you. That’s why I propose we go out sometime this weekend and talk this over. Get to know one another a little bit. If there’s no chemistry whatsoever, then I think it’s safe to say that we should go our separate ways.”

“You mean like a date?”

The ensuing silence almost made Jasmine wonder if their call was dropped. “Sure. Like a date. What do you say, Miss Bliss? How about I take you somewhere nice for dinner this Friday? No expectations. Just two people getting to know each other and discussing business.”

Jasmine furrowed her eyes, which in turn made Blackbeard furrow his.
I get more empathy from a cat than another human being.
“No expectations. My expectation would be you taking that seriously. I’m not a woman who can be bought, Mr. Cole.”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t imagine.”

“Uh huh.”
This is a bad idea.
Jasmine kept thinking it, and yet she refused to do anything about it – like hang up the phone. “I’m not sure how I feel about a ‘date,’ Mr. Cole, but I would be willing to have a private discussion to learn more about your… offer. I’ve been thinking about it. But as you can imagine, I have quite a few questions I would want thoroughly answered before making a final decision. You didn’t exactly pitch me something expected.”

“That sounds fine. Give me your address and I’ll come by and pick you up at 7 on Friday night. We’ll be going somewhere nice, so I suggest you dress your best.”

“Hell no I’m not giving you my address. Pick me up in front of your building.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Don’t want people talking even before I hire you.”

“Well, you’re not picking me up here. Pick somewhere downtown where a girl can walk safely after dark in the middle of winter. If you can.”

Ethan suggested the opera house, a well-lit place surrounded by cops because it’s where the city elite liked to hang out on the weekends. That way no one would think twice about Ethan Cole hanging around and inviting “pretty young women” into his car.

It was a date. Or not a date, since Jasmine refused to call it that. “Business meeting” passed through her lips more than once, and Ethan humored her. “Yes, a business meeting. We will talk a lot of business for sure, Miss Bliss.”

They were on such terms when Jasmine finally hung up two minutes later. She set her phone on the end table and gazed into the empty space before her, soon filled with the black and white fur of her fattest, most judgmental buddy. Blackbeard yowled in her lap.
Yeah, this was probably a bad idea, huh?
Going from talking to a billionaire about being a hired fling did not connect with her flipping through basic cable channels while settling into her rotting couch. And yet here she was, one of the “luckiest” women in the city.

5

“What the hell do I wear?”

It was Friday evening. Blackbeard wound his tail around Jasmine’s ankles and purred, although she was more concerned with what was going on in her closet. Or not going on, as was the case tonight.

She was due at the opera house soon.
I still have nothing to wear.
The problem with her clothes was that she had few nice dresses that weren’t either super cheap or falling apart. Sure, they were fine when she was going out to a nice dinner with friends, going to a party, a wedding, or other such things. But this was a meeting with Ethan Cole, and…

I want to make a good impression.
That’s what she told herself as she pulled dress after dress out of her closet. Oh no, this one had some mold growing on it. And
this
one had a frayed hem she didn’t know how to fix. Sighing, Jasmine sat on the edge of her bed and tried to avoid looking in the broken mirror hanging on the wall. The last time that happened she was sucked into a cycle of self-loathing because she was convinced she was hideous.

But if Ethan Cole thought she was beautiful enough to proposition… no, Jasmine couldn’t go down that road again either. Every time she thought of it she realized that she was seeing herself through the eyes of a man who wanted her sexually.

It had been a long while since Jasmine last had someone like that. Over a year, if she was thinking correctly. In truth, she had never been in a serious relationship before. She had dated, had sex, even been with the same person for more than a few months. But they were never more than friends who had sex. Jasmine didn’t see herself spending the rest of her life with most men she dated. She figured that was normal. But since moving into this dump she was forced to think about her life more critically than she ever had before.