Admit You Want Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Irresistible Billionaires Book 3)

by Ajme Williams

  “Can I help you sir?” the woman behind the desk asked. Even she looked fake. She was pretty, but her face was pulled into a smile that looked like she practiced it in the mirror.

  “Yeah, I don’t actually know whether she was showing up too, but I should have an appointment under Easton Schultz, or Artemis James, one of those.”

  “Wonderful, we’ve been expecting you. If you could just take a seat, Miss James will be right with you.” I thanked her and went over to one of the couches. Sinking onto it, it felt like sitting on a cloud. What the hell was I doing here? There was nothing wrong with the way I looked. I had seen the kind of clothes that she wanted me to wear and okay, they looked good. They looked expensive and they made me look like someone who knew what they were talking about. I understood what she meant about the clothes. But my face?

  I personally thought that the long hair suited me. It wasn’t even that long; it hadn’t even reached my shoulders yet. If she wanted to see wild, I could show her wild, but I wasn’t even there yet. My beard wasn’t that bad either. It was not the point where I needed to consistently trim it in order to keep it looking good. If I got rid of them, I would look just like any other guy. They were almost my signature. They were what made me unique.

  So what if future clients didn’t like it? Weren't billionaire geniuses allowed to be a little bit eccentric?

  That click-clack of heels sounded on the floor and Missy appeared. She looked great, as usual. There was no sign of the woman I was in the changing room with. While we were in there, she let go of that weird British stiff upper lip. She wasn't working for me and Toby, we were just people. Two people who are into each other and wanted to see how things would go. I missed that woman, but it was no use. I knew exactly what she felt about me, she had told me.

  “Finally, you're here.”

  “I'm not even late,” I said.

  “I know you're not, but since you're here, that means I can leave.” Well, that made sense. It wasn't like she was the one cutting my hair. It was kind of amusing to see how quickly she wanted to get away from me though. This place wasn’t like the suit store. When and where would we be alone together in a place like this anyway to let something like what had happened before happen once again?

  “So, what's happening? Why did you drag me out here?”

  She looked like she was going to give me a smart remark but then she pulled herself back. “You are going to receive a number of treatments to improve your appearance.”

  “Improve my appearance?” You would think I was an ogre or something with the way she talked about me. “Okay. What are we doing?”

  A woman that I hadn't noticed previously walked up to us. She started talking to Missy in a language I didn't recognize. It wasn't Spanish, was that French? Missy replied to her in the same language because of course, she did. Of course, Missy James who had ties to the Royal Family in England could speak French, I watched the two of them talking wishing there was such a thing as subtitles in real life. Both the women looked at me and then looked back at each other, continuing their conversation. Now that I knew I was the subject, I wanted to know what they were saying.

  “What's going on?” I asked Missy.

  “Just a second,” she said to me, continuing her conversation with a woman. After a little more back and forth, she turned to me once again. “I have to make a phone call to my assistant, there seems to be some sort of mistake.” I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Sure, whatever.” I waited while she took the call. Even though I only heard her half of the conversation, it was clear that something was wrong.

  “What treatments did you book for Mr. Schultz?” Missy asked her assistant over the phone. A pause. “Is that what you selected off the treatment list?” Another pause. “Well of course the list is in French, it's a French Spa…. all right, all right. Thank you, Maggie… no, don’t worry about it. It’s partly my fault, I should have realized.” She ended the call and turned to look at me.

  “There has been a mix-up.”

  “Right. I hope you weren't chewing out your assistant for my sake. Call her back so I can apologize to her.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “There's no need to call her back, I understand perfectly what has happened. She booked your treatments for you; however, the treatment list was in French and she doesn't understand French. Rather than stumble through it, she made a call to the spa and the attendant spoke French as well. Through the course of whatever they managed to discuss, she ended up booking a couple's package for the day.”

  “Couple’s package?”

  “Two sets of treatments instead of one.” I gave way to the smile that was pulling on the sides of my mouth.”

  “And who might be the couple in question?” She glared at me.

  “This is all a mistake and it will all be sorted out shortly. I'm sorry if you feel like I'm wasting your time.”

  “You should be. I'm offended. You wave a couple’s experience in my face and then you pull it away at the last second. You should be sorry.”

  “Enough from you, I swear.”

  “Why did you book a French place anyway? What's wrong with American spas?”

  She ignored me completely and walked back to the woman she was talking to before. She started talking again but instead of the other woman nodding and agreeing with her, she seemed to get agitated with her. With no understanding of the language they were speaking, I could tell that they were arguing. I walked back up to Missy's side.

  “What's she saying?” I asked.

  “Stay out of this,” she snapped at me before continuing her conversation. The woman she was talking to was getting frustrated, I could tell from her voice and so was Missy.

  “She wants us to take a couple’s thing, right? You want us to take the couple's thing?” I asked the woman directly.

  “Stay out of this, Easton.”

  “Let's just do it, it's not a big deal.”

  “That's highly inappropriate, Easton.”

  “What's the worst that could happen? At this rate, they're going to cancel the appointment but charge you for it anyway.”

  “I don't want,” she started but then she didn't continue with her statement. She didn't have to say that she didn't want a repeat of what had taken place in the changing room. I personally did want a repeat of what had taken place in the changing room, but I understood that I wasn't going to get anywhere with that.

  “Nothing's going to happen, you think I can't keep my hands off you?”

  She pursed her lips and then turned back to the woman. She must have told her that we were going to accept the package because she smiled and started beckoning to both of us to follow her.

  “I can't believe I'm doing this with you,” Missy said as we walked down a short hallway and into a lowly lit room with two massage tables close to each other.

  “Would you give it a rest already? You're acting like you're being tortured alive when really all you're doing is getting a massage. Don't you think you can last an hour with me without begging me to take you?”

  “Why did I come here?” she said out loud. The woman started talking again in French which I deduced to mean take off your clothes and lay on the table. She really thought we were a couple, didn’t she? Damn, she really didn't understand English, otherwise, she would know that she was asking Missy to do the one thing on Earth that she didn't want to do. I watched Missy. She looked around the room, at the massage tables covered with towels, at me, then at the rest of the room.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” I pulled my shirt off. I saw a blush spread across her cheeks.

  “Turn around, I don't want you to see me.” I thought about teasing her but reconsidered. It was clear by now that this was not her plan. She did not want to be here with me and making this harder for her was just going to make it harder for me too. I turned around and took my clothes off, keeping my head turned as I got on to my massage table. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her taking her clothes
off and then finally laying down on her table.

  “Aren't you glad you're still working with me?”

  “Excuse me?” she asked.

  “I said,” I turned to look at her. “Aren't you glad you're still working for me?”

  “No. I never imagined I'd be in this position with a client before.”

  “You are at a fucking French Spa getting a free massage. Imagine working this hard for that much money. Toby and I are practically slave drivers. I wonder why all our employees haven’t quit and protested in the streets.”

  She giggled silently. “I can't complain about the massage, but I will complain about my companion.”

  At this point, that was the best that I could hope for. At least she wasn't cursing me out, because that was also an option. There was a knock at the door and then it opened. Two women walked in, both blondes, one much taller than the other. The taller one came to me, while the shorter one went to Missy. One of them turned on music, something that was definitely meant to set the mood for a couple in love about to have a romantic experience together. The woman touched my back and ran her oiled hands up and down my skin.

  Whoa. I was not expecting it to feel that good. I had never had a massage before, not this kind, just the sports injury-related type. A massage just to pamper yourself and feel good? I was rich, why hadn't I done this before? I inadvertently let out a moan as the woman ran her hands over my lower back. I heard Missy laugh.

  “Does that feel good?” she asked. No, it didn't just feel good. I had died and gone to heaven.

  14

  Artemis

  He was right about that; I didn’t think it was typical to be able to get massages on the job. Back when I had all the time in the world to spend in spas, I had spent it there. Before the demands of my job made it so I couldn’t make it to my weekly massage, manicure, and pedicure, I attended the spa religiously. There was nothing else that I had to do urgently. My entire life was a series of leisure activities, so it made sense that a lot of that was spent in various spas having people rub me down. I actually almost thought of it as an investment. My image was basically my job back when I didn’t have a job.

  It still was but in a different way. At this point in my life, with people watching me, my image had become a part of my portfolio. I was used to people judging me on I how I looked, so I guess it was just the next natural step that I turned it into the way that I made money. The last time that I had been to this spa before this, was probably six weeks ago. That would have been unthinkable to me just a few months ago. It was funny how people changed. I was grateful for all the changes, but if there was a version of events where I could keep my weekly spa days, I wanted that timeline.

  I was so relaxed I almost forgot about Easton on the massage table just a couple of feet away from me groaning through his own massage. I wanted to laugh. It was clear that he had never experienced something like this before which just didn’t make sense to me. There was the gender thing since a lot of guys felt iffy about spas but that couldn’t have been the whole reason. His life just didn't make sense. Any other person in his position, with the amount of money that he had, would make the most of it. It was New York City, it made sense that he didn't have a fleet of sports cars somewhere but that wasn't the only way he could enjoy his money. I was starting to resign myself to the fact that I would probably never understand him.

  In about an hour, I would have to go. I let it go. I sunk into the table and enjoyed the woman's hands on my back. Granted, I didn't have the most stressful job brush a little rest and relaxation was always welcome. I managed to quickly forget that this was technically a couple's massage. I got so sucked into it that I almost dozed off. Even with Easton right there, I was totally relaxed, even thinking back on what had happened at the suit shop. He had worked me harder than any client before him, and not in the ways I was used to. I deserved to have this massage on his dime. When it came to an end, both of the women helped us dress and presented us with glasses of sparkling water.

  “The water is flown in directly from Alsace,” my masseuse said.

  “What's that?” Easton asked. I snuck a peek at his body as he got into his robe. He was very hot considering the way he presented himself which was abysmal. People said that the last components to a good outfit were a handsome face and beautiful body and I believed that was true. Looking at Easton, he had both even though he capitalized on neither.

  “Just drink it,” I said.

  “When you're ready, we will make our way to the nail station,” the masseuse said.

  “Oh wait, the what?” Easton asked again.

  “Nails. We're doing mani-pedis next.”

  “I don't need that.”

  “What kind of nail care have you done in your life, besides gnawing your fingernails off like a wild animal?” He smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

  “If it works it works.”

  I shook my head, he didn’t even bother denying it. What was it like living like that? Having not a care in the world for your appearance? At the nail station, we were seated and instructed to put our feet into foot baths.

  “So how does this work?” Easton asked.

  “You don’t do anything. Just stick your feet in the water.” Our manicurists came and our hands went into water baths next.

  “Are you telling me I just have to not use my hands?”

  “Well, what are you using your hands for right now?” I asked him.

  “I don’t know about this crap. I hope you don’t expect me to actually keep this up.”

  “After all my hard work, you better.” He laughed and settled down.

  “Do you really do this all the time?” he asked as his manicurist pushed his cuticles back.

  “All this and more,” I told him. “Next time, I’ll book you for a facial and full seaweed wrap.”

  “You see, that is the stuff I just don’t understand. How can you pay someone to turn you into a sushi roll? What kind of health benefits is that even supposed to have?”

  I laughed at his remark. I had never heard of someone refer to seaweed wraps as turning into a sushi roll. “Half the reason is the health benefits, like the detoxification and the other half is relaxation. I mean, think about it, since you were a baby, have you ever had the luxury of lying down and having another person pamper you?”

  “I see,” he said. “So, it’s like some sort of fetish thing for people who miss being babies and want to have their diapers changed or something like that?”

  My manicurist stifled a laugh. I was glad they thought he was so amusing. “No, it has nothing to do with wanting to become a baby again. It has more to do with the feeling of being cared for, of lying there and for a few minutes having nothing demanded of you besides your presence.”

  “You know, it really doesn’t make sense to give someone money in order for you to relax.”

  “Nothing makes sense under capitalism, darling. Don’t question it, just enjoy it.”

  “How often do you do this?” he asked. He was looking at his hands like he was scared that the manicurist was going to break them.

  “I used to come to the spa once a week, but I haven’t got the time these days.”

  “Oh no, however will you cope?”

  I laughed. There was truly a time in my life where I had nothing better to do than get spa treatments every single week, sometimes more than once a week. We were having a fun conversation, and I didn’t think it would be weird to open up to him a little bit, but I decided to keep my mouth shut. It wasn’t a secret who I was in my past life anyway. One quick Google search and plenty of my past was available for anybody who was curious enough to look. Every time I featured in an article, they never failed to mention that I was a good for nothing party girl before I decided to use my powers for good.

  “You will be a convert by the end of this.”

  “I know I’ve said this before, but not all of us have the kind of time that you do during the day to relax.”

  �
�It’s not about having the time, it’s about making it. You work so hard anyway, you deserve it.”

  After our nails were done, we were finally getting to the good part, the salon. I was so excited to say goodbye to that unruly mass of hair. And that beard? I looked at his reflection as he sat in the chair happy that that was the last time I was going to see that particular face.

  “Do I get a say in how all this turns out?” he asked. The hairstylist was standing behind him, running her hands through his hair. A slight hint of jealousy surprised me. Easton had really nice hair, it was shiny and thick even though I knew he probably used some sort of wretched two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, or worse, no shampoo or conditioner at all, and just used the soap he used on his body for his hair as well. I knew without asking that he didn’t use any kind of beard oil either. How was this man living? My intervention in his life could not have come soon enough.

  “No. None whatsoever. I want it short, the classic. Longer on the top of course, and get rid of the beard,” I said to the stylist.

  “Wait a minute, everything?”

  “Yes, everything.”

  “Can I just keep a little on the chin, like the ten-day scruff kind of look?”

  “No,” I said. It was all coming off. Beards did a lot for men. Truly, on the faces where God had not been so generous, growing a beard did a world of good, but I didn’t think Easton had one of those faces. He was conventionally, even superiorly good-looking. I wanted to get as far away from his old look as possible. Giving him a little bit of leeway with some scruff felt like encouraging bad behavior. I was not allowing him to have a beard if he would refuse to groom and properly take care of it.

  Surprisingly, Easton didn’t really put up a fight. It was that massage earlier, it had put him in a mood good enough to be nice to me, which admittedly was part of the plan. People tended to be sensitive about hair, and I had left this to the end so he would be the most agreeable to it. So that he would shut his mouth and just let me work my magic. This makeover wasn’t for him, it was for Toby and for the image of his company. And for my reputation. Couldn’t forget that.