8. Ashcroft
8
ASHCROFT
I wake up to the sound of running water in the shower. The thin baby blue curtains remind me I’m not in my own room. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Fifteen minutes past six. God, when have I last slept so peacefully since returning to St. Peppers?
I put on my slacks from the neatly folded stack on the chair and meet Sophia in the doorway as she steps out of the common shower in the apartment. Wrapped in a soft pink bathrobe and her hair tucked inside a matching towel, she looks so sweet, unlike the girl from last night, who has asked me to fuck her senseless.
“Good morning,” she whispers in a breathless tone as her gaze shifts between my face and my naked chest.
“It is now. Let me brush my teeth before I wish you good morning in the best way.” I have no interest in losing her due to bad breath.
She giggles, and I can’t keep myself from wishing to hear her laughter first thing every morning. “You’ll find a fresh toothbrush under the sink.”
After getting ready, I find Sophia in the kitchen, where she’s pouring coffee into two cups, and there are two plates with breakfast.
“How can I help?” I place a kiss under her ear and marvel at the slight tremor that runs throughout her body.
“Take this to the table,” she says with a touch of breathlessness. I carry the two coffee cups with a warm feeling in my heart. A part of my brain argues to run back home. I have a business to run, a staff to command, but for some reason breakfast with Sophia is going to be the highlight of my entire week.
“When are you expected to be at work?” she asks after taking a sip of her coffee.
I place the cutlery to the back of my plate as guilt digs its claws into my heart. She doesn’t know that nothing is expected of me, yet I work ten to twelve hours every day in my family business. I know my workers start around nine, but as I told Sophia, I don’t lie.
A lie by omission is still a lie, though.
“Usually, I start work around seven.”
Her forehead crinkles as she looks down at her watch. “You’ll be late today.” Before I can tell her not to worry, she asks, “Is your boss hard on you? I know rich men can be…”
I hold her hands on the table, not liking her upset face and also wanting to know what has made her so wary of wealthy men. “What is it, Soph? Why so much hatred toward the wealthy?”
“It’s nothing.” She tries to pull back, but I tighten my grip. Finally, after a frustrated sigh, she adds, “My father worked as a bookkeeper for a very rich businessman. He never took any vacations, the pay was bare minimum, and the stress… It tore my dad apart. He always came home late in the evenings, left too early in the mornings, and worked most of the weekends. I never got to see or bond with him. And when I was old enough to know it was of no fault of his own, he had a heart attack, at work. He died at the same desk he had spent more hours at than his home. His asshole boss didn’t even bother to attend the funeral.”
Her jaw clenches, and despite the redness in her eyes, Sophia doesn’t drop a tear. My heart is full with unbridled pride and vivid restlessness. She does hate the rich.
“Your father’s boss was a jerk and a leech, Soph. I don’t think it had anything to do with how much money he possessed. I’ve met some of the kindest people who are rich, not only in wealth but in heart.” My mother being one of them. She would have changed Sophia’s mind in a flash.
Sophia looks at me in confusion, as if she’s never even considered this. But then she closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You can’t change my mind on this, Asher. Not now. Not in a million years.”
I drop her off at the school and return home with fear eating my insides. Sophia hates wealth and here I am, the richest man in town, lying and trying to impress her. I can’t shake this feeling that something will break in the end. Her. Me. Or maybe, just maybe, her thick walls of disbelief will shatter against my love.
I’m sifting through the letters when a colorful invitation catches my eye. New Year’s Eve Gala.
I rip the envelope from the side and read the letters printed in gold ink on pearly white paper.
The gala committee would like to invite the Miller family as our honorary guests. The event will start with a speech from the town mayor, followed by a night of musical entertainment, when some of the best performers in town will showcase their extraordinary talent.
The best performers. One of them could be Sophia.
“Larry?” I holler, and in two seconds, he’s before me.
“Yes, Mr. Miller?” he asks with a slight tremble in his voice.
“Why do you get so nervous whenever I call you?”
Larry’s eyes widen, and almost unconsciously he grabs the ends of his tie to wipe off the sweat beads from his forehead. “Every day when I come to work, I think this will be my last day here. Every day when I leave, I’m glad I got through another day. But moments like these, when you call me inside, I wonder if today is the end.”
My eyebrows raise at his little speech. This is probably the first time Larry has spoken this much to me. Maybe he’s finally realized I like straight answers.
“This is my first job behind the desk, sir. Before this, I was a wood craftsman. But I became a father last month, and I need a stable income for my wife and daughter.” He pauses and looks at me. “I’m trying, Mr. Miller.”
I can’t help but wonder if I’ve been the asshole boss to Larry like Sophia’s father’s boss was to him. I place the stack of letters onto the desk, except the gala invite, and ask him to take a seat.
“I’m not firing you. Not today. Not in the near future.” Larry’s shoulders relax. “I need good, hardworking employees as much as you need a good job. I don’t mind if you need a few more weeks to get a hang of everything, I just want you to be loyal and dedicated when you are here. If you’re stressed, you’re no good to me or to yourself.”
He nods. “Thank you so much, sir.”
“This letter?” I show him the invite.
“The town knows you’re back, sir. They expect, or at least hope, to see you during the holidays. Do you want me to send a reply?”
I shake my head. “I’ll do that.” Larry is about to exit the door to my office, when an idea hits me. “Were you a good craftsman?”
He turns, and this time there’s no nervousness in his voice. “I was the best, sir.”
“Then I have a task for you, and this takes precedence over all other things.”
Later that evening, I get an unexpected call. “Asher?” Sophia’s breathless voice sounds like sweet honey.
“Hi, firecracker. All okay?”
“Yes. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away.” I lean back in my chair.
“Would you like to have dinner on Christmas Eve?”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Don’t inflate that big ego. Your head is already enough big.”
“Uh-huh. From what I can remember, you loved my big head last night.”
Her breath hitches. “You’re so bad.”
“And I want to do all bad things to you. Tell me I can see you tonight.”
“Only if you come to my mom’s place for Christmas dinner. Unless you have plans elsewhere,” she quickly adds.
“I told you, I don’t have any family, Soph. I’d be honored to be your mom’s guest.”
“Thank you.” There’s a clear satisfaction in her voice. “I told her about you today, so of course she now wants to meet you. I thought, what better way than over Christmas dinner?”
“I love the way your brain works, firecracker. Now about tonight…”
***
Sophia lies in my arms against the fireplace in her living room. As soon as we stepped inside the house, I couldn’t wait, and from the way she tugged on my clothes, she felt the same. I took her against the door, on the couch, on the thick rug, and now I’m loving the feel of her naked skin against mine as we lie peacefully before the soft crackling of burning wood.
“I love this.” I take a deep breath.
She burrows herself more into me, and her words muffle against my skin. “Don’t get too comfortable. My roommates will be back after the holidays.”
“I’m not looking forward to it.”
She chuckles and looks up. “I love your pout.” Her finger traces my lips, and I kiss it.
“Men don’t pout.”
She laughs some more. “Don’t worry, your masculinity isn’t being called into question right now. Even Miss Tee was asking about you today.”
“You met with Miss Tee?” I jerk up, sitting straighter.
She nods. “It seems the time of mingling is over.” Her hands twist the side of the throw blanket spread over us. “They invited all the contestants for an impromptu performance.”
I tighten my hold on her. “I’m sure you were great.”
“How do you know? You haven’t even heard me play.” Even though her words are lighthearted, the expression on her face is serious.
“That’s true. But if I know one thing, babe, you don’t do things half-assed. As much as I admire this quality, it also scares the hell out of me.” I throw my head back and stare at the roof, dreading the day when my reality is exposed to her.
“Scare?” She turns around to face me fully. “I have a hard time believing anything scares you, Asher.”
“It didn’t used to.” I bring my gaze back on her face and clear my throat once to get rid of the foreign, cold heaviness gripping my chest. “But for some reason, I’m scared at the thought that if you ever chose to hate me, I might never get you back.”
“Asher! Why would you say something like this? I love…” Her eyes widen, and my grip on her tightens.
“Finish the sentence, Soph.”
She swallows hard and her blue eyes gleam, matching the burning fire before us. “I… I love… everything about you.”
“And I love you.”
“Ash.” She closes her eyes, leaving me bereft of her tender gaze. “This is too fast.”
“I don’t care. I’ve never felt anything like this before. If you need time, take it. But I’m sure about you—about us, Soph.”
Her breath hitches, and her hands lock around my neck. “You sure?”
“I don’t have a single ounce of doubt.” But I understand her hesitation. This isn’t just fast. Our attraction is like a rolling snowball, growing every second. “Now, tell me about this impromptu performance.”
“I think I played well.” She releases a sigh. “I’m sure they’d have already selected the performers. I really want this part, Asher.”
“You’ll be in it, baby.”
The next day, I’m sitting in my office with the invitation letter in my hand, staring at the contact number of the organizing committee printed in gold ink. I hesitate for a few seconds, my brain screaming at me, Don’t do it .
I’m just asking the results for fuck’s sake. It’s harmless.
“Hello, this is Jurgen Kaufmann. How can I help you?”
“Mr. Kaufmann, I have a special invitation letter for the New Year’s Gala. I was wondering if you could share with me the name of the performers we’ll get to hear in the event.” The special invitations are usually given to only a handful of people, which should at least tell him I’m a person of power.
“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s a huge list. Plus, it’s a surprise. I can assure you that our selection committee is very thorough, and you’ll have a great time.”
My jaw clenches hearing his straight refusal of my request. “Mr. Kaufmann, I’m Ashcroft Miller. I’d—”
“Mr. Miller, sir. Why didn’t you say that before? I can send the list over to your office.”
“No.” Fuck. “I’m just interested in the names of the selected pianists,” I rush to add.
“Of course, sir. Give me a second.”
The longer I stay on hold, the more my conscience screams at me that this isn’t right. I’m about to tell Mr. Kaufmann to drop it, when he’s back on the line. “There are two solo pianist performances, Mr. Miller. One is Nicoleta Wilson and the other is Sophia Jones.” He pauses and hesitates before asking. “Is this all right, or would you like us to change—”
“No. That’s it.”
A smidge of guilt dampens my happiness upon hearing Sophia’s name on the selected list. But I tell myself that I didn’t twist the results. I just inquired about them. What’s the harm?
“Is it not good?” I ask as Sophia plays with the gnocchi prepared by my chef. After he’d packed it in plastic containers, I brought it with me to her home.
Startled, she looks between her plate and me. “No, it’s delicious. But you didn’t have to bring takeout, Asher. I could have cooked for us, you know.”
“I know. But I don’t want you to think I’m seeing you every night for free food. Although some things are very delicious.” I kiss her hand with a brassy smacking sound.
“You’re just… too much.” Finally, I get to see the small hint of a smile on her face as she snatches her hand away. “I’m nervous about the results. They’ll be announced tomorrow afternoon, and if… I’m in, there’ll be a few days of practice before the gala.”
“What if I told you that I know you’re in.”
“Knowing and hoping are different things, Asher.”
“I didn’t say hope, Soph, I said know.” My carefree tone, which only makes an appearance when I’m with her, slips and morphs into a voice of the fierce businessman that I am.
“Wh-what… are you saying?” I don’t like her stutter. I love the fiery Sophia, and that’s the reason for my slipup. I hadn’t planned on sharing the news with her, but now the cat is out of the box.
“You are in. I have a friend who knows someone at the planning team, and they saw your name on the list.”
She goes quiet, forgetting the dinner before us. “How did he get access to the results?”
The suspicion in her slow voice irks me. I’ve never had to answer to anyone in my life, and I take pride in the fact that I’m an honorable man, but with Sophia, neither of those hold true.
“What is it, Soph? Now you don’t like people who are friends with the rich?”
She’s taken aback by my words. “I… I…” she stutters, unable to complete her sentence.
I know, given her past, she has every right to be careful of wealth, but her inability to look beyond this has me believing that there’s no universe where Sophia and I will be happy together.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I hate the conflicted expression on her face. “I understand you keeping a wary eye, but not every rich man is evil, the same way not every struggling man is worthy. I don’t think there’s anything as an absolute good or bad person. People are never black and white, Soph. We’re all some shade of gray based on situations in life.”
I watch her struggling to believe that fact, which she possibly presumes to be true.
“I’m not upset… but scared.” The foreign word feels heavy in my mouth. “If someday you learn that I did something wrong—perhaps lied to you—I’m nervous you won’t give me a chance to explain.”
“You’re a righteous man, Asher.”
“In every righteous man’s life, there’s a day when he’s the most immoral, and I dread mine, because I feel like I’ll lose the one thing that is slowly becoming most important in my life.”
She digs her teeth into her bottom lip and circles the table. I push my chair back, and it makes a scraping sound before Sophia slides onto my lap. “I don’t like the way I think,” she whispers and buries her face in the crook of my neck. The touch of her lips always has my heart racing. “But it’s hard to stop believing something you’ve trusted all your life.”
“You can borrow some of my faith until you collect yours, babe.” I wasn’t exaggerating when I said she’s becoming one of the most important people in my life—maybe the most important one, even before my parents. When they died, it was sudden and unexpected. Their loss burned a part of my soul, but all I felt was grief and pain. Now, with Sophia, there’s a perpetual dreadfulness sitting on my lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
Her fingers drift back and forth over my stubble. “It’s important to you?” she asks and I nod.
You don’t know how much, firecracker.