Judge Me Not: A Billionaire Single Mom Christmas Novella

by Maggie Cole

  "Shopping?"

  He licks his lips. "Yes. Pick your first outfit. Surprise me."

  5

  Colton

  The moment Jasmine leaves my suite, I pick up my phone and text my assistant, Janelle, Jasmine's email. I instruct Janelle to immediately send the insurance policy details. I'm not sure what Jasmine needs to have covered, but I'm going to find out.

  Her red pouty lips and heart-shaped face drove my dick to a state of chaos the minute I laid eyes on her. And her legs. Fuck. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, tempting me to drop to my knees and put my face in her pussy. And now she's left my suite, and her floral scent lingers.

  I groan. This is so very bad. Everything about bringing her into my suite and negotiating with her spells trouble. I can already feel the obsession taking hold over me. It's something I reserve for my business deals, not women.

  This is wrong.

  Better her with me than those douchebags out there.

  Her hazel eyes are etched in my mind. She's trying to be brave about something, I could see it. Pain and fear were swirling in them. But there was also courage. The way she negotiated surprised me. I'm not sure what I expected. But she held her ground and didn't back down from me. It made me respect her more.

  I call my attorney. He answers after two rings. "Colton. What can I do for you?"

  "Charles, I need a contract drafted tonight."

  "For what?"

  What do I call it? I don't engage much at the club. Most men have their favorites but will sample the other women from time to time. I don't have any interest in lap dances, stripteases, or paying a woman for sex. Sure, the women are all beautiful, but I don't have the needs the other men do.

  Until she walked into the bar. Suddenly, the things I had no interest in, I want her to do for me.

  My membership is for business purposes. When you mix sin and money, you find out a lot about a man's weaknesses. My suite is to entertain businessmen who are visiting from out of town. Otherwise, I don't come inside it. I stay in the bar. Not many men use it. Mostly they bypass it, going directly to where the women are.

  The quiet, dark atmosphere of the bar is calming to me. Tim, the bartender, knows exactly how I prefer my scotch. I avoid the hassle of crowded bars and everything else that goes with the hustle and bustle of New York—especially during Christmas.

  I don't fault anyone for loving it. I did a long time ago. But I'd prefer to skip it altogether. I breathe a sigh of relief every year when life resumes to normal and New York City goes back to its usual unjolly ways.

  Star is the only dancer who ever comes into the bar. And only when she is meeting a new woman she's recruiting.

  I usually don't talk to the new girls. They are all here for the money. I don't know their reasons or want to. But I also don't judge them. Money makes the world go round. I learned it early on in life. And I know what it's like to have nothing and feel desperate to solve your problems.

  The men who are members have more wealth than they know what to do with. The women hold all the power in their negotiations. And the club rules are strict. If a woman says no, it's no. There's nothing any member can do to change her mind besides offer her a better deal and try to persuade her. So in my eyes, it's a better situation for these women than what they could resort to.

  Why is she here?

  What is her problem she needs to solve with the money?

  What is she looking for in the insurance policy?

  How did Star find her?

  My obsession takes hold. I take a large mouthful of scotch and enjoy the burn down my throat. "An exclusivity contract."

  "Oh?" Charles asks.

  "You could call it a severance package after the exclusivity ends."

  "How long is the exclusivity period?"

  "Until I say."

  "Until you say?" he repeats in confusion.

  "Yes."

  He lets out a big breath of air. "And the length of the severance?"

  "Twenty years, ten thousand a month, complete with full benefits."

  Charles clears his throat. "This sounds extreme."

  "I don't care. Get it done."

  "What are the duties?"

  I can't tell Charles to put in writing what she's going to do for me.

  "Personal assistant."

  The line goes silent.

  I wait him out. Charles is the best of the best, but he's a typical attorney, always overanalyzing everything, which is why I hired him. He keeps me out of trouble.

  "You want a personal assistant to have a twenty-year severance package?"

  "Yes. And I want it clearly stipulated she is on call at all times. There are no off-hours. If I message her, she is to report to duty."

  "Are you firing Janelle?"

  I snort. "God, no. I'd rather slit my wrists."

  "What's the real situation behind this?"

  "I just told you. Get it done, Charles. And make it simple. No games. No extended language or get-out clause for me. Keep it black-and-white and nothing in between." I hang up the phone, and a text message pops up.

  Janelle: The information was sent. Do you need anything else?

  Me: No. Thank you. Have a good night.

  Janelle: Anytime.

  Janelle's been with me for over fifteen years. She, too, is at my beck and call, but there isn't anything sexual between us. I never have to ask her to do anything twice or explain myself. I have a hunch I pay her more than any other assistant in New York. The saying everyone is replaceable usually is true but not for Janelle. I enjoy every transfer I make to her bank account because she's worth every penny.

  I shouldn't call Jasmine. It's late. She said she needed to leave. I don't know her reason, but I can't help myself. I hit Jasmine's name on my phone.

  She answers after five rings in a hushed tone. "Hello."

  "Check your email."

  "You could have texted me. It's late."

  "But I didn't."

  Her soft breathing filters through the line, and I close my eyes, wishing she were in front of me.

  "Are you home?" I question.

  "Yes."

  I almost ask her where she lives, but I remind myself I'll have all her information tomorrow when she's added to my payroll.

  "I need to renegotiate one point."

  She inhales sharply. "What?"

  I can feel her stress over the phone. "While cash is king, most things require proof of funds. For instance, if you want to buy a house, or car, or anything of value. And if you're on my benefits, you'll need to be on my payroll as an employee. Your wage will be directly deposited into your bank account."

  "But...umm..." She holds her breath, as if in distress.

  "I'll gross up your wage. After taxes are taken out, you'll still have the five thousand per day deposited into your account. I'll withhold more than necessary. You'll probably get a refund. Consider it a bonus."

  Her voice comes out choked up. "Okay. Thank you."

  Oh, sexy woman, why do you need this money?

  "You didn't tell me your last name. I need it for the contract."

  "Barello. Two L's."

  Jasmine Barello.

  "Are you in bed right now, about to go to sleep?" The thought of her in pajamas, even flannel ones, sends my blood reeling.

  "No."

  "Then what are you doing?"

  "Laundry. Scrubbing my toilet."

  I glance at my Rolex. "At one in the morning?"

  "I work three jobs. There isn't a lot of time during normal hours."

  "Not anymore, you don't. You should sleep. Tomorrow you will be up late."

  "I've not reviewed things yet," she sternly replies.

  "Everything we discussed will be in the contract, and there will be no insurance issues. Like I stated when you were here, if something isn't covered, tell me, and I'll take care of it. I'm a man of my word."

  "You just called me and went back on a term we agreed upon," she points out.

&
nbsp; The hairs on my arm stand up. I don't expect her to fully trust me yet, but I can't argue what she accused me of. "I did. It's in your best interest. It's a small detail I overlooked, necessary to complete our agreement. Was I not fair? Did I try to screw you?"

  She pauses for a moment. "No. You're right. I'm sorry."

  "Let's get clear on something. I have no reason to harm you in any way. It's not my intention and will never be."

  She doesn't respond.

  "Tomorrow, after you sign the contract, I will send a car. They will take you to the salon and store."

  "Why do I need to go to the salon? What is wrong with me?"

  "Nothing is wrong with you. You're perfect."

  More silence.

  "Stop cleaning. Review the policy I sent. Get some sleep, and be ready to sign first thing tomorrow. I'm an impatient man. I'm not going to keep this deal on the table forever." It's a lie. I'll give her as much time as she needs. But I don't want her taking forever.

  "You don't need to pressure me. Details may not be important to you, but missing one critical thing can impact my life. You can afford mistakes. I can't. And I have responsibilities I can't just ignore."

  "Like what?"

  "I'm hanging up now. Please don't call me again tonight. I'm not on your clock yet."

  "Wait."

  She sighs. I hear the weight of the world in it. I want to fix whatever is causing her so much stress. "What?"

  "Don't hang up mad at me."

  Several moments pass. My heart beats faster, wondering if she's more pissed.

  In a friendly voice, she replies, "I'm not. I really do need to go though."

  "Okay. Get some sleep."

  "Goodnight."

  The line goes silent, and I walk to the glass. Star glances my way. I open the door and motion for her to come in.

  She steps inside. "What can I do for you, Colton?"

  "Where did you find Jasmine?"

  She hesitates then says, "Working at the makeup counter at Claudio's."

  "And what do you know about her?"

  Star smirks. "I know you haven't shown much interest in the girls, but do I need to refresh you on the rules?"

  Rule twenty. Any details about the women's personal lives are private unless they offer to tell you about it.

  I put on my negotiator's face and add in the charm I've perfected. "I think everything has a price, don't you?"

  Star does the opposite of what I thought she would. Her face falls. She's never glared at me before, but I want to crawl into a hole, it's so vicious. "There is no amount of money you can give me to break the trust or confidence my girls put in me. If you think you're the first member to try, you're wrong. And I'm giving you a pass since you typically stay in the bar. But next time, I'm putting you on warning, Colton. I will not have any member of this club break the rules."

  I hold my hands in the air. "All right. Point taken. Sorry I asked."

  Star glances out the window. She says in a low voice, "I don't know your intentions with her, but all I'm going to tell you is this."

  "What?"

  She faces me. "Every woman has their own reasons for being here. They are all important to them. Some have more heart-wrenching issues than others. Don't do anything to screw her over."

  "I'm not. I wouldn't."

  She smiles and pats me on the shoulder. "Good. I'm going to hold you to it." She leaves my suite.

  The conversation does nothing to make my obsession with Jasmine diminish. I leave, go home, and hardly sleep. I can't stop wondering why she needs the money, and the guilt about crossing this line churns in my gut.

  6

  Jasmine

  All night, I review the insurance policy. Like Colton stated, it covers almost everything on earth. Unlike my employer, who is always cutting benefits to drive the cost down, Colton's policy has to cost a fortune.

  Relieved I won't have to worry about preexisting conditions, cancer treatment, or other issues I experienced with past insurances, my silent tears fall onto my pillow until I finally drift to sleep.

  My alarm rings. I start to drag myself out of bed, exhausted as always, but a notification pops up on my phone with the contract. I sit on the edge of the bed and open it.

  I'm relieved to see it's only one page. The language is easy to understand and clear. I'm not an attorney, but I don't see anything that could harm me. And it came from his lawyer, so I assume it's legal.

  I'm his beck-and-call stripper. Is it legal?

  Stripping isn't illegal. Is it?

  No.

  But is this arrangement?

  It says I'm his personal assistant. Is that what all rich guys call their personal strippers?

  I push my thoughts away. Think of Abby.

  I sign it electronically and send it back. I put my feet on the ground, and my phone chimes with a text.

  Colton: Good morning.

  I wish I could stop the smile forming on my face. I don't want to be attracted to him. I definitely don't want to fall for him. I'm not ever going to sleep with him.

  I respond.

  Me: Morning. Are you always up this early?

  He calls me, and I pick up. "Hi."

  The sound of his voice alone makes my heart pitter-patter, and I curse myself again.

  "I scheduled the car to pick you up at ten. Your credit card won't arrive until tomorrow, so I added you to my La Perla account. Talk to Tracey when you get there."

  And so it begins.

  My chest tightens. "Is there a certain color or style you prefer?"

  "Surprise me. Pick what you want. Let's start with five outfits."

  "Five?"

  "Yes."

  My anxiety increases. "What am I to wear over it?"

  "After La Perla, I'm sending you to Bergdorf's. Bree will assist you. You're on my account there, too."

  "And Bree knows what I'm looking for?"

  "Yes. We have a fundraiser tonight. It'll be boring and stuffy. I highly suggest focusing on alcohol."

  I laugh.

  "I wish I were kidding."

  "Oh. Sorry."

  "I'll get us out of there as soon as possible."

  I swallow the lump in my throat. "And then?"

  "Then I'm going to unwrap you and see what gift you got for me at La Perla."

  My cheeks turn to fire. "I meant after Bergdorf's."

  "Oh. The driver will take you to the salon and then home. I'll pick you up at six."

  "No. I'll meet you."

  "No, I'll pick you up," he sternly says.

  "The contract said I was to meet you. It didn't say anything about you coming to my home." I don't want him to know anything about me. This is business, and I want to keep it that way. And I never want my daughter or Maribel to see or know about him.

  I wait out his silence, thinking of more rebuttals if he tries to convince me.

  He finally caves. His voice is harsh. "Did you lie? Are you married?"

  "No."

  "Boyfriend?"

  "No. I don't lie."

  His voice drops several octaves. "Then why don't you want me to pick you up?"

  I say the only thing that comes to my mind. "This is business. We aren't dating."

  His voice sounds angry and maybe a little hurt. "No, we aren't dating. But you are mine. Or did you forget that detail?"

  I close my eyes. "The contract said I would meet you. Please stick to our arrangement."

  The line goes silent.

  "Are you still there?"

  "Fine. I will not pick you up. After the salon, my driver will bring you to my house. You can get ready there."

  I'll miss dinner with Abby.

  The one thing I get to do with Abby every day is have dinner. I'm not home a lot due to my jobs, but I've always been home for dinner.

  "I need to be home first."

  "Pick, Jasmine. Either I pick you up, or you come to my place. Which one?" he growls.

  It's one night. Then I'll get to spend more time
with Abby during the day.

  "I'll go to your place."

  His voice softens. "Okay. I'll see you tonight."

  I don't say goodbye and hang up. What have I gotten myself into?

  Cee Cee knocks on the door, pulling me out of my moment of panic. "Jasmine? You okay?" She comes in and sits on the bed next to me.

  I nod. "Yes. Everything was as he stated. I signed."

  She forces a smile and puts her arm around me. "That's good. I would have done the same thing."

  My eyes well with tears, and my body shakes.

  "Oh, hey. What's wrong?" She pulls me tighter to her.

  I wipe my face. "I'll be gone from ten this morning, and I don't know when I'll be back. I just spoke with Colton. I'll miss dinner with Abby tonight."

  "Yes. But if you don't leave until ten, you'll get to make her breakfast. I bet she's going to be excited about that."

  I take a deep breath. "You're right."

  "I'll be here with her. She'll be okay. Why don't you try to have some fun while you're out?"

  "With Colton?"

  "Yes."

  I snort. "I don't think that's a good idea."

  "Why? Because he's sexy, rich, and totally into you?"

  "He's paying me."

  Cee Cee shrugs. "If a man wants to pay me what he's paying you, I'd be okay with it."

  I tilt my head.

  "Jeez. You don't have to give me the look of death. Not everything taboo has to be off-limits."

  "What do you mean?"

  She pushes my hair off my face. "Sweetie, I don't know anyone who's been through what you have. You deserve a break and some fun. Maybe you should treat this as such and forget about the minor details."

  "Minor details being that he's paying me?"

  Cee Cee smiles. "Yes."

  "What does that make me?"

  "What does it make him?"

  "Since when did you get so loose on your morals?" I would never have expected Cee Cee to be on board with any of this.

  She glances toward the door. "Since life showed up. The important things were put into perspective. And you have nothing to feel shameful about. You're doing everything you can to save your daughter. If anyone wants to judge you, who cares? And if a man like Colton wants to give you his money to solve your problem, why should you not accept it or feel bad about it?"