Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (119 page)

But Beatrice
loved
his fabrications. The
vibrator buzzed, lively, and she moaned aloud while Solomon told her more about
his fake sexual encounter with a temporary assistant. He told Beatrice
about how he shoved my chest into the ground and told me to raise my ass up
high so he could fuck me like a bitch in heat. Beatrice commented on
everything, asking questions through shallow breaths as the vibrator did its
work.

“Are you stroking yourself?” she
asked. “How hard are you now? I’m close. I want to at
the same time.”

I silently groaned.

“Alright, alright! I will.
Hurry. Did you cum inside her? Tell me you did. That’s so
sexy.”

Apparently in Solomon’s version of the story, he
completely lambasted my cunt with his potent seed. Beatrice went off the
deep end, pounding the vibrator inside of her and screaming Solomon’s name into
the phone, begging him to fuck her.

Afterwards, she quieted down. The vibrator
stopped buzzing and she tossed it off the side of the bed; it landed next to
her discarded panties.

“My God, that was hot,” she said.
“You should see if you can get her back for another day. The stories
you tell me about your usual assistant are growing dull. You need to fire
her soon. I’m tired of her. What if this new one is pregnant?
Wouldn’t that be hilarious. Do you know if she had a boyfriend? I’d
laugh.”

I gritted my teeth. How much of a bitch could
someone really be?

“Ah, you have to go. Yes, I
understand. No, thank you. That was amazing. You always know
how to put me in a good mood. You do have it, right? Yes.
Soon. Please. I can’t stand this. I want to be done with
Asher and move on. Don’t just keep it on your desk out in the open.
I don’t want you to get caught by something stupid like that.”

No, no, something, explanations on Solomon’s end.

“If you’re going to keep it under the lamp, make
sure your idiot assistant doesn’t go cleaning around there. Not that
she’s useful in the first place, I’m sure. That’s a strange place, but as
long as it’s not noticeable, I’m fine with it.”

The lamp. Solomon’s office. I remembered
it quite clearly from the time I’d visited. He didn’t have much in his
office. Mostly a desk, a table to the side with books stacked on it, his
couch, a mirror behind that, and a floor lamp next to it. The floor lamp
was the kind with a conical base. Presumably hollow in the middle, where
he could lift it up and place whatever they were talking about underneath it.

This, I thought, was it. My in. Except how
was I supposed to get into Solomon’s office, let alone find whatever it was he
wanted kept hidden?

…

“No way,” Jeremy said. “No
fucking way. Are you serious? Is this real life or what the
fuck?”

Jeremy was so completely stunned after I told him what
I did and what happened. I could somewhat understand, since it was a
shock to me, too, but he was treating the information in a far more excited way
than me. Maybe it lost some of its lustre since I’d lived through it.

“Alright, hold on. So Beatrice gets off on
hearing about Solomon screwing his assistant. This is great. All we
have to do is tell Asher, and then you and him can have sex all you want and
it’ll save his marriage with Beatrice. He can tell her stories about you
two going at it and they’ll fall in love all over again.”

“Are you being serious?” I asked him.
Hands on my hips, glaring at him, and all he did was laugh.

“Not in the least. I can’t even believe
that happened. Even if I was in the room listening to it, I don’t think I
could believe it.”

“It was kind of strange,” I said.

“Strange isn’t a strong enough word for it,”
he said. “It’s so ridiculous that I’ll believe you. I don’t
like to take things like this on faith, but I’ll do it this one time.
Just for you.” He pinched my cheek.

I slapped his hand away, laughing. “It’s
not funny!”

“It’s pretty funny,” he said.
“Mostly hilarious.”

“Anyways, so, once you’re done laughing at my
expense, I think this is good, since now we know something.”

“Yeah. Right. That whatever-it-is
that he’s hiding under his lamp. Except I don’t see how that helps
us. What are you going to do? Tell Asher that Solomon’s hiding some
mystery object under his lamp?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, we have to go get
it.”

“I don’t see how we’re getting into Solomon’s
office.”

“I’ll go,” I said. “I’ve been
there before. I’ll dress like I’m an office assistant again and make some
excuse to go in there when he’s gone. It’ll be fast. In and out and
then I’ll meet up with you and we can go from there.”

“You think that’s a good idea? Solomon’s
just going to toss you on his couch again and have his way with you, then
Beatrice is going to get the full story later. Do you really want to be
involved in that?” Jeremy barely kept his smile hidden away, and
after half a moment of feigned stoicism he burst into laughter.

“Look, it’s a good plan,” I said, glaring at
him.

“Sure. I guess it’s as good as any. I
doubt it’ll work, but I’m in. I have to pick Asher up later anyways, so
we can go then.”

“Good. This is good. I think
everything’s going to work out well,” I said.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

…

I dressed in a nice black skirt and semi-formal,
wisteria blouse. Jeremy looked me over before we left and nodded his
approval.

“Nice,” he said. “Classy.”

“Thanks,” I said. “The heels
aren’t too much?”

I walked around a bit to show him. They were nice
shoes, but I thought maybe they were too tall for typical office use. I
vaguely thought of smaller pumps when I pictured secretaries, but I really
liked the way these went with the rest of the ensemble.

Jeremy shrugged. “How should I know?
I’m no fashion expert.”

“Well, I think they’re good, so I’ll keep
them. I won’t actually be doing any work, so I don’t think it matters,
anyways.”

“You’re the boss.”

And then we left. But not before I convinced
Jeremy to share the piece of cheesecake with me that we brought home from The
Cheesecake Factory last night.

“I need something to calm myself down. I’m
so nervous.”

The drive was quiet and uneventful. I went over
the plan in my head. Up the elevator, down the hall, knock on the
door. Wait. If Solomon was there, I would make up some reason for
being there. Joel Newgood needed the weekly reports if they were
finished. I knew Joel Newgood in passing from when I’d helped Solomon
last time, so this was a good excuse. I assumed “weekly
reports” would mean something to Solomon Royce, even if I had no idea what
they were. I could play dumb in those regards.

If Solomon wasn’t there, but his usual assistant
Daphne was, I’d tell her someone was looking for her. Joel Newgood maybe,
or someone else. Who knew? I’d make that one up as I went, since I
thought I could lie to her easier without a cover story.

And if no one was there, I’d just go in, find what I
needed, and leave. That plan was the easiest.

I thought over the plans, over and over and over
again, perfecting them in my mind. If this, then that. Nothing to
it. Everything would go well.

We arrived in the parking garage and when I went to
step out of the car, Jeremy grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Hold on,” he said. “I’m not sure
how I feel about this, so let’s come up with a back up plan.”

“Sure,” I said. “Like what?”

“If you get caught or something. How long
do you think it’ll take you to get in and out?”

I tracked it all in my mind, coming up with decent
estimates. “About five minutes to get up there, depending on the
elevator and if he answers the door. Then maybe five or ten minutes
inside? If no one’s there, it won’t take long, but if I have to make some
excuse for why I’m there it’ll take a little more time.”

“Let’s say twenty minutes, then? If you
aren’t back here in twenty minutes, I’ll figure something out and come get
you.”

I laughed. “So you’re just going to walk
right up and go to Solomon Royce’s office? That’ll defeat the entire
purpose of the plan. He’ll know there’s something wrong then.”

Jeremy gave me a hard look. “It doesn’t
matter, Jessika. If something happens to you, Asher’s going to blame me
for it. I know this was your plan, but we’re doing this together, so
let’s make sure nothing bad happens, alright?”

I huffed. “Fine. If you say so.
Nothing’s going to go wrong, anyways.”

Jeremy didn’t know what happened last time,
though. I’d told him about the phone conversation between Beatrice and
Solomon today, but he didn’t know the actuality of the situation. He
didn’t know I’d fallen on the couch and Solomon had walked over, started acting
like he was ready and willing to take me right then and there, with or without
my consent. I never told him any of that, and I didn’t want to tell him
it now. If I did, would he let me do this? Probably not.

So, instead, I reassured him with a pat on his hand
and a careful nod. “It’s alright,” I said before I left the
car. “Don’t worry about anything.” I closed the door and
left him in the parking garage.

My heels clicked across the concrete and I made my way
through the dimly lit area to the ground floor elevator. No one else was
nearby and the parking garage looked oddly empty. It was just my nerves
trying to make up something ominous, I told myself. I pressed the button
for the elevator and waited.

I felt calm and relaxed, but my hands kept
shaking. Almost jittery, like I’d drank too much coffee and was suffering
for it. When the elevator came, dinging its arrival, I stumbled inside
and braced myself against the back wall. No one else was here with
me. The doors closed, but without directions on where to go, the elevator
stayed put.

I finally hit the button for the floor I wanted.
Leaning against the wall, I watched the numbers pass by above the door as I
rose past floor after floor. It was late, but not too late, so apparently
no one was using the elevators right now; not time to go home, but every time
sensitive issue involving walking through the office had already been dealt
with.

The elevator chimed my arrival and the doors slid
open. No one was coming in, so I scurried out and into the open
hallway. Nothing. Strange? This didn’t seem right, but I
blamed it on my anxiety more than anything else. Just an excuse, Jessika,
I told myself. Why are you making excuses? Go and do this and be
done with it.

I hurried down the hallway, nearly tripping on the
carpets. To Solomon’s office, fast, quicker, my heels thudding against
the carpeted floor in frenzied strikes. Once I arrived, I nearly opened
the door without thinking.

“Calm down!” I hissed to myself. Then
I knocked on the door to Solomon Royce’s office.

Nothing. No one. I waited and knocked
again, but no one answered. When I knocked a third time with still no
answer, I decided it was safe. Twisting the knob to his office, hoping
beyond hope he hadn’t locked the door before he left, I winced and expected the
worst.

The door opened easily enough. I pushed inwards
and stepped inside. The light in the corner, the one I needed to look
under, lit up the room. No one was inside though, nothing unusual.
I scampered in, closed the door behind me, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, that was easy. What was I worried
about? And, anyways, it wasn’t like something could happen. I knew
this, but I’d gotten myself worked up and nervous anyways. What would
Solomon do? I’d warded off his advances before, so I could do it
again. And his usual assistant, Daphne? I had no idea who she was,
but I doubted she’d be an issue.

With all that settled, no longer panicking, I hurried
to the lamp. When I went to lift it up and steal whatever lay beneath it,
it wouldn’t budge. I pulled harder, yanking on the thing, but no.
Checking carefully, I noticed it was bolted into the floor. Nothing too
high tech, just screws, but who did that? I didn’t have a screwdriver,
either.

Solomon must have one, in his desk or something.
How else would he fit something under the lamp? Maybe he wanted to just
leave it there, but I doubted it. Rushing to his desk, I opened the
drawers and rifled through his belongings. It didn’t take long to find a
tiny screwdriver, so my hunch must have been right.

And then I went to do what needed to be done.
Unscrewing the screws, I left them on the side of the carpet and then lifted up
the base of the lamp. Hidden beneath it I found a small USB flash
drive. I grabbed it, tossed it into the front pocket of my shirt, and
started screwing the base of the lamp back into the floor.

Before I finished, I heard someone at the door.
Argh! Could I not get a break? Oh well, it didn’t matter. I
swept the rest of the screws, along with the screwdriver, under the couch and
got up. Whomever it was, I’d just run right past them, make up some
excuse, apologize for being here because I must have had the wrong room, then
leave.