Dare Me: A Dark Billionaire Romance (6 page)

Chapter Six

As the weekend passed into the work week, Jasmine found herself becoming more and more agitated by the fact that Dominic hadn’t called or even sent her a text message to confirm whether or not he would take her dare—much less to arrange an actual meeting. Monday came and went, and then Tuesday, Wednesday, and although she checked her phone regularly, starting whenever she heard it buzz in her purse or whenever it rang at home, it was never Harper; it was always someone else, usually one of her coworkers or her boss.

As a few days stretched into a week, Jasmine’s thoughts vacillated as to why she hadn’t heard from him; from moment to moment she would decide that it was because he had figured out who she was and wanted nothing to do with her, or that he was simply the kind of guy who could give a woman the best pleasure of her life and then fall off the face of the planet. Maybe he had only ever intended it to be a one-night stand, and she’d been a fool to even suggest that they could meet again—much less dare him to do it. Had she been mistaken about what a good time he had had? He’d certainly reached orgasm; Jasmine could remember the sticky-slick feeling of his come leaking along her labia, the feeling of it soaking into her panties on the cab ride home. He had been so full of praise for her after they had finished that it was difficult to imagine that it might have all been an act.

And yet, he had been so quick to suggest that the game be over, that they consider it a tie. Jasmine’s stomach twisted inside of her as she tried to decide how to feel about the man; as the week dragged on to its conclusion on Friday with no call, no message, no contact of any form from Dominic, Jasmine felt more and more irritable.

To make matters worse, it seemed as though her boss and colleagues were determined to grind her into talc. Jasmine again found herself working late and coming in early, to prepare the brief and proposal that one of her fellow assistant managers would pitch to a client that she would have no part and no credit in attaching, were the proposal meeting to be a success. Her boss nitpicked her work, saying that something in the presentation looked “college-level, not professional,” even though the graphic in question had been developed with revisions from her boss himself, through the in-house design team. He had checked off on every stage, and Jasmine found herself in the unenviable position of having to go to the art department on Thursday afternoon to tell them that they would have to start afresh, with a Monday morning deadline.

That weekend, Jasmine found herself staying in, less because she hoped or expected Dominic to contact her and more because the idea of being out, pretending to have a good time, was more onerous than staying in and drinking a bottle of wine while she watched TV.
The least he could do would be to text me and let me know he’s not interested,
she thought irritably, sipping at the white merlot in her glass more quickly than she was aware of.
I’m a big girl. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it’s not like I’d go all
Single White Female
on him or something like that.

She let her friend convince her to meet for brunch on Sunday in an effort to convince herself that she wasn’t going to let Dominic Harper get her down.  Jasmine put on a dress—not as nice as the one that she had bought for the charity ball, but still nice, and went to meet her friends.  Despite telling herself over and over that she was completely and totally over Harper, that she didn’t even want him to message her and that she would just move on as if it were any one-night stand, the second her phone buzzed in her bag she had it out and was checking it. “Look at Ms. Connected here,” Alicia said, rolling her eyes as Jasmine unlocked the screen hurriedly to see who was calling. It was one of her friends from college and Jasmine let it roll over to voice mail.

“Expecting someone special?” Mary-Alice asked with a raised eyebrow. “You never did tell us how the date last weekend went.” Jasmine shrugged.

“It was a bust,” she said. “Nothing worth writing home about. Dude was just there to mingle and network, and he wanted arm-candy to make a good impression.” She hadn’t told anyone at all about meeting Harper. At first this was because she couldn’t afford for the information to even risk becoming general knowledge given that she planned to sleep with him again, then as the days went by without any contact, because she didn’t want to seem more pathetic than she was.

She spent the entire brunch date distracted, barely able to force herself to keep up with the conversation.  Her irritation at Dominic blossomed into full-fledged resentment. He could at least have spared a moment before she left his hotel room to tell her that he wasn’t going to call, to decline the dare. She hadn’t given him very much time, but if he had told her to stop or wait, she would have, and he could have let her down then, instead of dragging out the misery of her uncertainty.

When she returned to work the following week, Jasmine found herself thinking about Harper up in his office on the top floor of the building, totally unaware of the fact that the woman he had slept with a little over a week before was only a dozen or so floors away from him. If he came into her section for whatever reason—to talk to her boss, or on his way to another department—he probably wouldn’t even notice her, Jasmine thought resentfully. He would walk right past her, could probably even be introduced to her again, and wouldn’t even bat an eyelash.
He’s a billionaire,
Jasmine thought as she worked on yet another project that had been shifted to her because her colleagues had “more vital” work to do.
He’s this important CEO with more money than sense; he’s probably slept with a hundred women by now and can’t remember a single one.

In counterpoint to these bitter self-reflections, Jasmine couldn’t help the flashes of memories of their hours together; the genuine way that Harper had praised her, the feeling of his hands trailing over her body. He had been legitimately interested in her, and had genuinely enjoyed spending the evening with her—Jasmine knew that she wasn’t deluding herself about that. But whether his interest and enjoyment were simply something that he took for granted, or he had figured out her deception, he was clearly not interested in her now.

After a long meeting, Jasmine found herself back at her desk, simmering with indignation. Her work had once more been called into question, and she had had to bite back angry retorts when her boss asked if her head was really “in the game” on the presentation she was preparing for another colleague. She wanted to blurt out that she had slept with the CEO of the company a week and a half before, so maybe that was the cause of her distraction. She wanted to say that if her boss was so concerned about the damned presentation, he should get the person who was actually delivering it to work on it, instead of adding it to her already endless to-do list.

When the subject of covering the front desk for the department secretary’s lunch came up, Jasmine had known without having to even wait to hear it that her name would be forwarded. “I’ve got a lot on my plate,” she had protested, keeping the tone of her voice as polite as possible.

“You can get Dmitri to log you in remotely and just work from there. Take your lunch hour afterwards.”

“Even during the lunch break, the phone rings constantly; I’m not going to be very capable of actually getting work done if I’m routing calls every two minutes,” Jasmine had said, smiling to take the edge off of her words. “You told me earlier this week that this is a very time-sensitive project—I want to make sure that it’s done to standard and to speed.”

“I have the highest faith in your abilities, Jasmine. I know you’ll get it done.”
Funny how he has the highest faith in my abilities when he’s asking me to do something that’s going to derail every project I’m on, but whenever I’m actually able to devote all my energy to something I’ve got it all wrong.

Checking her phone, Jasmine saw that she still hadn’t received any contact at all from Dominic. Bile rose up in her throat and she sat back in her chair, considering her options. She could just forget the whole thing, chalk it up to one of those experiences that you have that you only tell a few close friends about if you mention it at all, and move on with her life. But for Dominic not to at least have given her some indication that he didn’t intend to call her or arrange any further meetings with her left a bitter taste. The abuse she had taken in the meeting seemed only to make his neglect even more obvious.

She worried at her bottom lip, looking at her computer screen without quite seeing it. Suddenly, the chime that announces a new email started her out of her resentful, bitter thoughts. Sitting up, she opened it to see it was a missive about an upcoming business partnership: a new client with deep pockets. Jasmine’s resentments and bitterness crystalized into something like a plan, and she found herself smiling. It wouldn’t ruin the company, but it would put a dent in Harper’s pocket.
Now what if Wilson-Davies were to hear about this upcoming partnership with enough time to make a counter-bid?
She opened up a tab on her browser and logged into the encryption system; she didn’t want any whisper of the leak to get back and be logged to her computer, or even the company’s IP address.

To be doubly sure, Jasmine quickly opened up a new email account, using a fake name. She scrolled through the company’s directory on their site, finding the best person to leak the information to: someone in the new acquisitions department of Wilson-Davies. Smiling to herself, Jasmine entered the email address into the field on the new message and carefully composed the missive. She gave sparse details about the process and no reason for the leak, simply saying that she thought the person the email was addressed to would want to know about it. After reading the email a few times over to make sure she didn’t sound too much like a spiteful employee, or like someone who couldn’t be trusted—who might be lying—Jasmine clicked send, and logged out of the email account and encryption system the moment she got a notification that it had gone through.

The rest of Wednesday seemed to go more pleasantly after that, and Jasmine even managed to get a little bit of work done from the secretary’s desk, humming to herself contentedly. Genco wouldn’t be ruined by what she had done—and it couldn’t possibly be traced to her in any way. But when the deal fell through, Dominic would have to take a loss for the quarter, which would be revenge enough, even if it meant that fewer people in her department would get bonuses.
I always seem to be ineligible for bonuses anyway, so it’s not like it’s going to hurt me,
Jasmine thought, smiling to herself once more as she considered who it would actually hurt: her boss, a couple of her colleagues who saw her as little more than a glorified workhorse, and of course, Dominic, who hadn’t had the grace to at least tell her that he had no intention of following up. It probably wouldn’t hurt him that badly, and Jasmine was enough of an adult to recognize that what she had done was incredibly petty, but it gave her satisfaction to do it. It was a small way of getting back at the people who had abused her or used her in some way, and if small was all she could manage, then she would take advantage of what little revenge she could get.

She found herself leaving not at the usual late hour, but right on time, crowding into the elevator with several other employees. “Not burning the late night oil today?” Todd from Accounting asked. Jasmine shrugged.

“I’m trying to develop what they call work-life balance,” she said. “I can’t be effective if I’m slaving away all the time. I’m going to go home, have a nice bath, and drink a glass or two of wine.”

“Good call,” Sherry, the assistant manager in the graphic design department said. “So good in fact that I think I’ll follow your example.” Jasmine fell silent as conversation buzzed around her, relieved that for once she was doing just what she wanted to be doing.

Chapter Seven

Just as she was lounging in her living room after work on Thursday night following her petty sabotage, having given up all hope of ever hearing from Dominic Harper again, Jasmine’s phone rang from across the room. Rolling her eyes and fully expecting that the call would be from someone at work, she took her time crossing the room to take the phone off of the charger. As she unlocked the screen, Jasmine frowned at the unfamiliar number.
Probably a telemarketer or scammer,
she thought.
At least I could enjoy messing around with whoever it is.

“Hello?” some instinct stopped Jasmine from answering the call in a joking voice, instead using her own normal tone.

“Jasmine Phillips?” Jasmine’s heart beat faster in her chest as she recognized the voice on the other end. It was Dominic Harper. She took a quick breath. This could either be very good or very bad.

“Speaking. Who is this?” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to suppress the rush of adrenaline in her system. On the other end of the line, she heard Harper chuckle.

“I think you know exactly who it is— it’s Dominic.” Jasmine’s lips twitched into a sardonic smile.

“Dominic who? I haven’t spoken to anyone named Dominic for a long time.”

“Dominic Harper,” he said, his voice still full of amusement. “I’ll refrain from asking how easy it was to forget me with all the other Dominics you know.” Jasmine clenched her teeth for a moment in annoyance.

“Well, you see, I can remember you quite clearly; but since I haven’t heard from you in so long, I assumed you’d chickened out of the dare and weren’t man enough to admit it and take a forfeit.” Dominic chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down Jasmine’s spine—it was almost exactly the way he had laughed when he had been punishing her, telling her not to be so eager.

“You didn’t specify in your dare when I should contact you,” he countered. “That’s really more your fault than mine, don’t you think?” Jasmine’s lips twisted as she racked her mind for something to say to argue that point. He was right; she hadn’t actually given him a timeframe.

“Hard to believe that you could be such a successful CEO if you usually take this long to follow up,” she countered, bringing the phone with her to the couch and muting the TV.

“Ah, but this isn’t business—it’s personal. I’m sure you can understand that my personal life is entirely at the whim of my career.” Jasmine pressed her lips together.

“So are you calling me to tell me you’re taking the forfeit?” Jasmine snorted.

“I was actually calling to arrange the meeting you dared me to make with you—unless you’re no longer interested?” It wasn’t quite a question. Jasmine’s skin tingled. Part of her mind insisted that after the insulting delay, she should reject the offer; she should just say that he had waited too long, and give him a forfeit that he could either take or leave. Something humiliating. The other part of her mind raged with curiosity—curiosity awakened by her first encounter with Dominic, that wouldn’t be satisfied until she had tried the kind of games that he played once more.

“What are you proposing?” Jasmine asked, needing more time to think but knowing that too long a silence would be taken for rejection. She heard the sound of movement on the other end and wondered where Dominic was, what he was doing.

“Come by my place,” he said. “We’ll have drinks, talk a little, see where the night takes us.” Jasmine worried at her bottom lip, tapping her toes on the floor. She took a deep breath.

“Okay,” Jasmine said finally. “I’ll come by.” She could feel Dominic smiling, sense it even without seeing it.

“I’ll send a driver for you, if you’ll give me your address.” Jasmine hesitated. Her apartment was not in the tony part of town, and as she considered the proposition in front of her, she thought of one or two other things that she needed to do to prepare—things that she needed to get done before she left for Dominic’s suite.

“I can get myself over there,” she said quickly. “I remember the address well enough. A girl’s got to keep some secrets after all.”

“Keep all the secrets you want,” Dominic said. “But I would like to see you here in the next two hours.” Jasmine glanced at the time. It was doable; she could get ready and take a cab to Dominic’s hotel room.

“Two hours,” Jasmine agreed. “I will be there.” Jasmine ended the phone call quickly and slipped out of her pajamas, pulling on the outfit she had worn to work. The shops would still be open, she thought quickly as she hurried downstairs from her apartment. She had to keep up the façade of being a wealthy, powerful executive; she couldn’t be seen in the same dress that she had worn the night she met him—that would be too obvious. And the rest of her clothes marked her status just as obviously.

She went into Nordstrom once more, looking around quickly. She would buy another dress—something more casual, but still every bit as pricy—and then return it to the store the next day. Jasmine knew that she would have to be careful; if she got it stained she might find herself facing an uphill climb to return it, even though Jasmine had heard that Nordstrom had one of the most relaxed return policies of any of the major department stores.

A clerk approached and Jasmine greeted her offer to help with a grin. “I hate to do this to you,” she said. “But I have a very, very important date to get to and less than two hours to get there.”

“Man of your dreams?” The clerk, a middle-aged woman with an impeccable dress suit, asked. Jasmine shrugged, not quite wanting to lie to her.

“Something like that. I need something kind of casual, but still gorgeous.” The woman looked her up and down slowly, and then led Jasmine towards a particular section of the women’s wear department.

Less than twenty minutes later, Jasmine was leaving the store, clutching her garment back protectively. It was exactly what she wanted—the kind of thing that Jasmine could easily imagine herself wearing for a night out in an alternate universe where she was exactly who she had told Dominic she was. The filmy, light material of the black dress clung to the curves of her body, almost showing off more than it hid, with thin straps at the shoulders and a plunging neckline that Jasmine thought she would only be daring enough to be seen in once. It would go perfectly with the expensive black pumps she had already invested in, and while it would be a shame to return it the next day, Jasmine knew that as much as she loved it, she couldn’t really afford it.

She took a quick shower, deciding that it would be better to simply coil and twist her hair up into a bun rather than waste time styling it the way she had the night she’d originally met Dominic. Jasmine did her makeup just as quickly, using a light hand to emphasize her cheekbones and the depth of her eyes, adding just a swipe of color to her lips before she slithered into the slinky black dress, smoothing it over the satin of her matching bra and underwear set. She dabbed a little bit of perfume at her wrists, between her breasts, at the nape of her neck, and stepped into her shoes, compulsively checking the time; she had a little more than twenty minutes to get to Dominic’s hotel.

Jasmine fidgeted as she waited the final few moments before the cab arrived outside of her building. She gave the driver the address, and sat back in the seat, looking around at the passing traffic and street signs, the fluttering images of buildings sweeping past the window.
Should I call him if I run into traffic? Oh god, how would that make me look? He’d know in an instant that I must have done more than just take a shower and throw something on.
Jasmine’s thoughts whirled around in swirling wisps, but she forced herself to take deep breaths. Dominic wouldn’t expect her to be exactly on the hour, would he? He’d know that there were such things as traffic, and that the last-minute invitation probably would have thrown her whole evening into disarray. He might even punish her for it, use it as an excuse. The thought made Jasmine smile slightly, anticipating the possibilities.

She tipped the driver generously and rushed into the hotel building, barely remembering the floor and room number. Jasmine stopped in her quick sprint to the elevators, thinking it was entirely possible that she’d get there and find it impossible to actually reach the vaunted level that Dominic inhabited. Looking around, she spotted a reception desk and forced herself to stride more slowly than she wanted to towards it, reminding herself that she still had five minutes before the time limit that Dominic had arbitrarily placed on her; surely the elevator couldn’t take that long. “I’m here to see Dominic Harper,” Jasmine said when the woman looked up. “Is there a special access key for the elevator?” The woman smiled and shook her head.

“No, but I will call his room and inform him you’re on the way up. The suites at that level have individual security, he’ll be able to let you in.” Jasmine nodded, giving the woman a quick smile before she turned back towards the elevators. She forced herself to walk sedately, not wanting to look like a minion on the way to an intense meeting with her boss—even if that was something like what the actual situation was. Jasmine heard the soft murmur of the woman’s voice behind her and took deep breaths to slow the rabbit-flutter of her heart as she walked the last several steps to the elevator bank.

Once she was inside the elevator, Jasmine forced herself to relax even more deeply, taking long, slow breaths as the car made its way up through the floors. Dominic would know at least that she was on her way up; he couldn’t call her late for that. She had actually arrived at the hotel punctually—surely he wouldn’t decide at the last minute to give up on her even if it took the elevator ten minutes to get to his floor. Jasmine watched the light flick on and off as the car she was in made its way upward. She tapped her foot, wondering why she was so eager to get to Dominic; after all, he had put her off for over a week and a half—he could wait a few extra minutes, couldn’t he? She took a final deep breath as the elevator chimed, announcing her arrival on the floor she had selected.

Jasmine strode down the hall quickly with no one to see her, remembering both the slightly tipsy walk towards the suite as well as her later departure down the same hall, no longer tipsy but every bit as fuzzy-headed from the multiple orgasms she had experienced. She found the discreetly marked door and knocked on it three times, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. She heard the sound of something on the other side of the door—a beeping sound, and then a clattering, clinking sound of locks. The next moment, the door opened to show Dominic, wearing a fitted black tee shirt and jeans. “Didn’t you have work today?” she asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s been two hours since I got home; more than enough time to change clothes. Or did you wear that delicious ensemble to your office today?” Jasmine grinned, shaking her head. Dominic pulled her through the doorway, closing the door behind them.

Dominic led her into the living room of the suite, gesturing to the couch, and Jasmine sat down carefully.
No need to get the dress any more rumpled than I have to,
she thought, smoothing the slinky material against her thighs. “What would you like to drink?” Dominic asked her. Jasmine shrugged, considering.

“Gin and tonic? It’s a warm night.” Dominic smiled slowly and strode towards the bar. Jasmine couldn’t help but admire him as he moved around, cutting a lime and adding ice to a glass before mixing up the drink for her. He poured himself a glass of wine and joined her on the couch.

“You seemed annoyed at how long it took me to act on your dare,” Dominic said. Jasmine shrugged; she didn’t want him to know how annoyed—she didn’t want him to know how invested she had become in the pleasure he had given her.

“It seemed to take you a long time to follow through,” she said. Dominic grinned slightly, taking a sip of his wine.

“You’re a busy woman yourself, aren’t you?” Jasmine nodded—it was true, even if the reason for her busy life was not what she had represented to Dominic. “Since I have fulfilled the dare by arranging another meeting, I think that makes it your turn.” Dominic set his glass down. “Although since it has been a very long time, as you pointed out—maybe we can start slow and build up to more?” Jasmine smiled, sipping the cold, tart cocktail and considering the offer.

“I dare you to call the front desk and make a completely absurd request,” she told him, leaning comfortably against the back of the couch. Dominic raised an eyebrow but stood, moving to the in-room phone. He brought the handset with him and dialed three numbers in quick succession.

“Yes—I would like to order something from room service,” he said smoothly. “Please send up four women dressed up as members of The Beatles.” There was a pause. “Early era—no need for fake beards or psychedelic clothes.” Another pause and Jasmine took another sip of her cocktail to cover the burst of giggles that threatened to erupt from her lips. “I’d like to see them by tomorrow night at eight o’clock. Please make sure they are also properly trained to play at least five songs.” Jasmine snorted, nearly choking on the liquid still in her mouth. “I will be very disappointed if you can’t make this happen, Miranda.” There was that firmness—that same quality that Dominic’s voice had when he was dominating her, and it sent a thrill through Jasmine’s spine. She heard the muffled sound of some kind of response, and then Dominic ended the call, turning off the phone and glancing at her. “Absurd enough?”