Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
ASHER
I’ve barely hit the first few steps when I hear Mother’s voice.
“Asher.” She steps from the alcove beneath the stairs, arms crossed tight over her chest.
Here we fucking go. I’ve faced down avalanches that scared me less.
I halt mid-step, hand gripping the banister. “Late for you to be wandering around, isn’t it?”
She doesn’t smile.
I imagine she’s more pissed than even I give her credit for, but that’s on her. No one told her to come. In fact, we purposely tried to keep her away. Away from it all. But mainly away from Ivanya.
“You and I both know I do my best work late at night.” She notices the tension in my shoulders, and her eyes soften a little. “Ivanya. What are you doing with her?”
Straight to the jugular.
I lean against the rail to buy a second. Every word is analyzed by her. You don’t say a single fucking thing unless you want it to be known for exactly what it is.
The wood creaks under my weight. “What makes you think I’m doing anything?”
A laugh slips out of her. “Because I have eyes, Asher.” She steps closer, bringing the smell of bourbon with her. Probably raided my finest shit. “I don’t fault you for all that you’ve done, son. But you need to ask yourself if it is worth it.”
My eyes snap back to her.
She doesn’t back down. Hell no would my mother ever back down.
“You need to know when to stop, Asher, before everyone ends up with a bullet in their chest, and this time, I’m sure the shooter won’t miss.”
The accusation in her tone should bother me more than it does, but I’ve thought about it more times than I care to admit. The more she’s around, the more I know I’m right, but then he happens. I see it flicker over her eyes whenever I bait her.
I rub my jaw. “It’s not your concern, Mother. You know this.”
For a moment I see the woman who despised the public eye, even though she’d lived in it her entire life. The woman who would’ve raised us alone a hundred times over if it meant never breathing the same air as my father again.
“Not my concern?” She uncrosses her arms, one manicured finger tapping my chest. “I won’t sit back and watch you do to her what your father did to me, Ash.”
Bold conversation for the middle of the stairs, but to be fair, it’s the best vantage point in the house.
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” I stare down at her. She’s my mother, but she’s never known our world the way Atlas, Khloe, and I do. She’s been kept on the outside. Deliberately.
She snorts. “I know a lot more than you realize.”
Heat rises up my throat. “You need to watch what you’re saying.”
She holds my gaze before giving one slow nod. “The fact remains. From where I’m standing, you, my son, may very well have it all wrong.” Her hand finds my arm. “Be careful. For once.”
Her robe trails behind her as she brushes past me.
I can’t move.
Her words replay in my head with the same reel of memories that surface any time I second-guess myself.
Fuck.
Be careful. How does she expect me to react to that? You don’t kill a monster by petting it to sleep.
I shake it off, or try to, pushing off the rail and heading down the hall toward my room. The door creaks open, and I climb the stairs up to the second level, each step a reminder that Ivy is in a replicated room right beside me, only without the loft.
My feet stop once I hit the top.
Sprawled naked across my bed, Camille traces lazy patterns over my black sheets. All her curves on display in the light of the gilded lamp at her side.
Most people wouldn’t kick her out of bed on a bad day.
I ain’t most people. “Get out.”
It has nothing to do with physical appearances either.
Even if Ivy wasn’t more attractive than Camille, she carries something that others don’t.
Something you can’t replicate. I mean fuck, she fucking shot me.
That’s probably it. Kills men. But doesn’t just kill them, tricks them.
Makes it hurt far more than a point five-oh bullet.
Camille’s laugh cuts through my thoughts. “Missed you too. Come on, Asher. It’s been months, a whole year.”
I ignore her. She’s been hovering since I got back. Clinging, demanding space in my bed like it’s her right. And maybe it once was. Or maybe I’m a fucking liar.
She sits up slowly, sheets pooling around her waist, her face twisting.
“What’s with you? We’re here now, Ash. Hello.
” She waves her hands around. “You captured the stray, now can we please relax? Once we land back in Coeur-de-Pierre, I’m going to have my fucking mother breathing down my back for the next task she’s going to set me on. ”
I pull my shirt off over my head, tossing it aside. “You need to shut the fuck up, Camille.”
And she does. The girl has a big-ass mouth.
“What?” She gapes at me.
I hold her stare. “Did I stutter? Why the fuck are you still here?”
Her silence stretches before she stands, the sheets falling away. She pads across the rug, sliding her hands around my waist.
“Where should I sleep, then?” She presses her mouth between my shoulder blades. “Atlas’s room?” Fingers tighten on my hip. “Ivy’s?” A pause. “Maybe I can see if she can still breathe with a pillow shoved over her face.”
My hand flies to her throat, yanking her flush against me. She doesn’t flinch. She meets my aggression with the stubbornness only someone who has a mother like hers can.
Every muscle in my body fights the impulse to do something stupid, and I shove her back until she hits the floor with a dull thud.
She recoils, wrapping her arms around her body.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Asher!” Her voice cracks before she grabs her robe from the foot of the bed, slipping it on with jerky movements. “Enjoy your empty bed along with your empty fucking life.”
As her footsteps die out, I drop onto the edge of the mattress, elbows braced on my knees.
Who the fuck are you really, Ivanya…
Atlas rounds the corner with a smirk that guarantees he’s gonna end up with my fist in his face. “Okay, don’t get mad…”
My jaw sets. “What is it?”
I didn’t get much sleep last night after kicking Camille out. Had Ivy running circles in my head until early hours of this morning.
“Khloe’s here.” He drags the words out, loving every second. His smirk widens. “And she brought Aléia.”
I set the blender bottle down hard enough to rattle the granite. “She what.”
Atlas lifts one shoulder, useless bastard, and leans against the doorway in his thermals with snow melting off the hem of his jacket. “Relax.”
“Fuck off,” I snap, twisting the lid on the shaker before leaving it on the counter and heading for the front door.
I close my hand around the handle, but it jerks inward before I get the chance.
Khloe throws her arms wide. “Surprise!”
“Oh good,” I deadpan, but fight the smile already spreading over my face. “My least peaceful sibling.”
She gasps. “Rude. I bring joy.”
I lift a brow. “You bring noise.”
She launches at me anyway, and I catch her around the waist because reflex doesn’t care how much of a menace she is.
Her face presses into my chest for half a second before she rises on tiptoe, mouth against my shirt. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop Aléia from coming.”
“Figured,” I mutter, as Aléia ghosts in behind her, mouth already locked in that tight-ass line she wears when she’s contemplating how she wants to ruin someone’s life.
Sinead takes her coat, throwing me a lopsided glance before disappearing.
“Huh,” Aléia mutters, as if we’re all beneath her. “I expected… more.” She doesn’t have to say it for me to know she means the house.
Atlas stretches his mouth into a fake smile that shows all his teeth. “Lovely to see you too, Aléia.”
“Atlas.” Aléia barely spares him a glance, plucking the gloves from her hands.
Footsteps click overhead, and Mom appears at the top of the stairs in a smoke-colored cashmere set, one hand sliding along the railing as her whole face warms the second she sees Khloe.
Actually warms, stripped of all her usual polished bullshit.
“My girl.”
Twisting out of my arms, Khloe darts up the first few steps to meet her.
Mom pulls her in, kissing her temple, then frames her face with both palms as she draws back. Khloe’s smile goes soft, holding right up until Aléia moves deeper into the foyer. Then it changes.
She stiffens, eyes narrowed on Aléia.
Before it gets even more awkward, the terrace door opens behind Atlas, and Ivy slips in, shoving her goggles into her dark hair.
Her tanned skin is flushed, green eyes bright, breath still loose from the cold bite of winter. I can’t help it, my eyes drop down her body. Tight black long-sleeve top, black tights, cropped puffer, and snow stuck to her calves like the mountain is still on her skin.
Pride hits me clean in the chest.
Fuck me.
I almost grin.
Aléia turns then, her eyes landing on Ivy like she’s been waiting for her. “So this is the wife,” she says, mouth flat. “I expected less… athletic wear and more shame.”
Heat rips through me so fast it locks every muscle in my body, and I step between them. “Aléia.”
She hesitates, tilting her chin out while refusing to look at Ivy. She knows better than to push me, and if she’s forgotten, well… I have no problem reminding her.
Ivy looks up at me from below, brow raised and gloves half off. No doubt she caught my tone. The fact that she always finds it amusing when I’m pissed off should have been enough for me to stay away. Instead, I fucking married her.
Aléia shrugs dismissively. “What? She shot you. I assume etiquette died before your pulse came back.”
My lip twitches. “Keep looking at her like that in my house and you’ll find out just how much etiquette survived.”
Khloe claps loud, because she doesn’t give a fuck as a person, but also hates Aléia. “Okay. Great energy in here. Love that for us.”
Camille gasps. “Mommy!” She flies down the stairs in a silk set, barefoot, hair bouncing.
Khloe sticks her finger in her mouth to gag, and Camille shoulder-barges past her on purpose, earning a death-promise scowl from my little sister.
Aléia softens for her daughter, almost sweet, if I didn’t know what lives under her skin.
Camille leans back, smiling at her mommy. Her eyes drift to Ivy and that smile vanishes, turning to disgust.
Ivy plucks the last glove off finger by finger, expression blank enough to be insulting.
Khloe gasps. “Oh my God.”
She crosses the foyer in three quick steps and grabs Ivy by both forearms as though they’ve been friends for years instead of four seconds. “You were made for me, not him. We’re going to be best friends.”
Ivy blinks once. “I won’t argue.”
I lift a brow. “The fuck you won’t. All you ever do is argue.”
Khloe beams wider. “With you. That’s all she ever does with you.” She bats her lashes back to her new bestie. “I do hope your drink-making skills are better than your aim.”
I flip her off.
Khloe hooks her arm through Ivy’s and starts steering her toward the hallway.
“Come on. You can tell me everything. Start with how he deserves it, continue with whether you can make a decent martini, and then we’ll discuss wardrobe theft because if this is your style, I already want half your closet. ”
Ivy lets herself be led a few steps and glances back at me over her shoulder. Here I am, wanting things I shouldn’t want in front of people I absolutely shouldn’t want them in front of.
This is such a fucking bad idea.
Khloe tugs her onward. “Don’t look at him. He’ll make it weird.”
Elea descends the last few steps, gaze following Khloe and Ivy until they disappear around the corner. Her eyes find me and I already know what she’s thinking. That right there is why this is a bad idea.
Yeah. I know.
I’m out-fucking-voted.
I always knew Mother would love her. Khloe too. Hell, Khloe would love a loaded gun if it rolled its eyes at me and wore black.
My family took one look at Ivy and saw exactly what I did. A woman who doesn’t give a fuck about the riches of a man, or the power one may think he has. They see the fight in her the same way I always have.
Aléia smooths a hand over Camille’s hair before looking at me. “We’ll need to discuss a lot.”
I let out a dry laugh. “We won’t.”
Aléia’s mouth tightens. “Asher…”
“No.” I hold her gaze. “I won’t talk this shit with you in my house.”
Atlas whistles under his breath. “Damn.”
I cut him a look. “Shut up.”
Elea crosses the foyer, brushing past Aléia without touching her.
“We’re doing dinner on the rooftop,” she announces to no one in particular. “At sunset. I’m making my famous roast.”
I bet she is. I’m just wondering which of us she’s gonna cook first.