Page 83 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
Mrs. Watson, my housekeeper, took Billie to the opposite wing of the house. She’d have to hike her way back to my side, which would give me plenty of time to work out my deal with Odette.
The atmosphere was tense between us as I led them into my home office. Ares’s expression fell. He expected to find a Thomas train set here too. I’d ensure there was one here tomorrow.
I squatted in front of him. His eyes took me in, so much like Winston’s. So much like mine. His hair was tousled, probably in need of a haircut. But if he was anything like me, he hated haircuts.
“Ares, is it okay if I talk to your mom?” My son’s eyes darted to his mom. She smiled softly—assuringly—and that was enough.
“Okay.”
I stroked his dark hair. I wanted to pull him to my chest, but that would probably alarm him. Never mind Odette. Was it normal to feel such strong attachment only on the basis I knew him? Our father wasn’t the affectionate kind, so it was hard to know how a good father should be.
Ares headed to the window, flattening his palm against it. He was so small, making my chest squeeze with worry.
“Make this quick, Byron.” Odette pulled my attention away from my son. “I don’t have all day.”
Everything about Dr. Swan managed to make me feel edgy.
A single look. A simple word. A smile.
If she knew the power she had over me, it’d have her running away and accepting her fate with the Ghanaians. Everything she did sent a zing of electricity up through me.
And her backbone only made my cock harder.
She was what I wanted above all else. Making her my wife would prevent her from leaving me again, and it’d keep my son with me. I’d keep them both safe. Having her in my bed would be a nice added bonus.
“Please sit down,” I told her, my tone disgruntled as I grabbed a blank sheet of paper and held it up. “We’ll make this arrangement a bit more formal.”
Odette crossed her arms and sat in the chair, her spine stiff. “Right, let’s not forget NDAs and prenups.”
My pen froze midair. Fuck, it never even crossed my mind to draw up a prenup. I was one of the richest men in the world—not having a prenup was risky. To my family and my empire. With anyone else, it’d be the first thing I’d take care of. Yet, with her it felt wrong to do it.
I shook my head ruefully. “Tell me if there is anything else you want in return for marrying me, Odette.” Her eyes roamed over my face, her expression slightly appalled. I wondered what she saw. The young Odette was easier to read than this one. She masked herself way too well, hiding her emotions. Unlike when we first met six years ago. That young woman hadn’t been afraid to take risks. To take what she wanted.
“I just want you to get the diamond smugglers off our back,” she muttered, avoiding looking at me. Being filthy rich meant people were eager to flock to me and our family. To cling to us, like we were their salvation. But not Odette.
The only woman to ever walk away from me. The only woman who wanted me for me. Money, wealth, and status meant nothing to her. Maybe it was that which pulled me to her. She seemed to seeme. Not to mention her body molded into mine like an ocean to a beach. We fit perfectly. Even those damn scars on my back didn’t repulse her. It didn’t matter what my front looked like, women cringed when they saw the scars. I could never distinguish whether it bothered me or not. None of them had ever looked at me and seenmenor had they cared who I truly was. They saw wealth, prestige, and the Ashford name.
In the end, a transactional marriage would work best.
“Is that it?” I asked her.
Odette hesitated, and I involuntarily tensed. “Are you sure you want to take it as far as marriage, Byron? Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you—” Her eyes flickered to our son, then back to me. “You don’t need to marry me to get it.” When I remained silent, hope entered her expression. “We could pretend we’re dating, and then amicably go our own way when you’re finished with me.”
I smiled at her and started to draft our contract, ignoring her comment. “Marriage or nothing, Odette. You will give me exclusivity, fidelity, your body—” And heart eventually, I added silently. “—and heirs. Occasionally, I’ll require your presence during certain social events.”
Her eyes flared with wrath and, at the same time, what might have been fear. It made the gold specks shimmer, pulling me into their web. “Excuse me?” She was on her feet, her palms sprawled on my desk as she leaned closer to me.
“You will give me exclu—”
“I heard you,” she snapped. “Why do you need heirs anyhow?” She flickered a worried look to our son who was still mesmerized with the window and the garden it overlooked. He dragged his train up and down, probably scratching the fuck out of the glass. I didn’t give a fuck, as long as he was happy. “If I give you heirs, I won’t be able to—”Leave.
The word hung heavy in the air and fuck if it didn’t piss me off. I smiled coldly. I knew her brain already worked up ways to get rid of me. To fucking leave me again.
“There’ll be no leaving,” I cut her off dryly. “No divorce. Marriage is for life, and I’m no quitter. I want a big family with you. If we have issues, we work them out. Together.” Odette fell silent. Her mouth opened, then closed—the gears in her brain turning. “Are you a quitter?”
I watched her delicate neck bob as she swallowed. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
Desperation laced her tone, mirrored in her expression.
