Chapter 14 #2
I roll my lips. His response does not sit right with me.
I've had my own suspicions about Warrick since he and Asha returned to Fairfield.
None of them are remotely related to Asha's suspicions, which is why they've stayed tucked away, but his supposed run-in with Sydney out of all her friends.
Sydney—the same friend who stayed at their Louisville estate over the holidays, the same friend with a trust fund that rivals the one percenters we attended boarding school with—stayed in Asha's family home instead of checking into a hotel or, better yet, getting another temporary residence while their place was worked on.
Asha's theories and my suspicions may have nothing to do with each other, but they are definitely shading the same picture. Warrick has secrets.
"There's a reason for that. I have nothing to say to you," Asha says simply, but her free hand curls into a fist at her side.
"Asha, this is ridiculous." His voice rises. "You need to come home. We're not losing anything by giving those acres back to the Hales."
"You knew the ranch was important to me. That's why you kept me from it." Her voice cracks just slightly, and she stops pacing. "You were going to let it go right under my nose."
"You're my daughter, Asha!" His voice explodes through the speaker, loud enough that I can hear it echoing on his end. The anger radiating through the phone is so intense it makes Asha flinch. "I would never make you marry someone over a land dispute."
"It wasn't your choice to make."
A rough exhale filters through the phone, the kind meant to rein in fury. "Your mother's house is built on land I own, land you will eventually own if you end this and come home." His tone shifts, softer now, almost coaxing, which somehow makes it worse.
"Are you threatening me with Mom's house?" Her voice rises, disbelief and rage mixing together. "Why is it so hard for you to accept that maybe this is what I want? What I've always wanted."
"Because it's not!" There's a loud CRACK through the speaker, the unmistakable sound of a palm slamming against wood. The violence of it makes Asha jerk back a step. "It's not what you want, Asha. You're doing this to punish me."
I'm on my feet before I realize I've moved, crossing to her. Her whole body is coiled tight.
"Maybe you deserve to be punished," she shoots back, but her voice wavers. "Did you ever think of that?"
Another sound comes through, something heavy hitting the floor. "I'm your father. Everything I've done has been to protect you—"
"Protect me?" Her laugh is sharp and bitter. "You've been controlling me. There's a difference."
"Asha, that's not—"
"No." Her hand is shaking now. "I'm done. Don't call again."
She ends the call, and the sudden silence is deafening. She tosses the phone onto the bed like it's burned her.
"Asha—" I start, taking a step toward her.
"Don't." The word comes out raw, but she doesn't step away from me. "I'm upset, but I don't know which reason is harder to swallow: feeling like I'm losing my dad or knowing he's still keeping things from me."
I'm close enough to see everything she's trying to hide, her fear, her fury, her hurt…it’s all there, bleeding through the cracks. She finally lifts her eyes to mine, and the devastation there nearly levels me.
"It's working, you know."
"What is?" I ask softly.
"Marrying you." She lets that sit between us for a beat then continues.
"He just slipped. Said something he shouldn't have.
Fairfield is every bit mine as it is his.
Turns out we have more in common than you thought.
My mother didn't leave me money, but she did leave me land.
He doesn't know I've seen the title. He's again lying to control me. "
Her eyes stay locked on mine, and for one unguarded moment, I see it—the war raging behind them. The need to run warring with the need for something solid to hold onto.
I chose the devil I know over the one I don't. Her words from before echo in my head. She's terrified of everyone, including me.
"I'm going to take a shower." Her voice is steadier as she steps around me. "You should get ready. We have that tantric yoga class with Dar in an hour." I can hear her walls snapping back into place as she finds something else to focus her mind on instead of addressing the root of her pain.
I hate it. I hate that she feels like she has to be this way with me. But I give her space because, truth be told, I need a minute too. I've gone from incredibly aroused, to angry and hurt, and now I have to push all that out because, on top of everything, I'm here to work. To close a deal.
"Yeah, about that. What is tantric yoga?"
"Yoga," she says dismissively with a shoulder shrug. "Wear sweatpants. You'll survive." And then she closes the door to the bathroom.
I exhale hard, scrubbing both hands over my face. My body still aches from yesterday's work with the bulls, but that's nothing compared to the frustration burning in my chest. She can put the walls back up all she wants. I've seen what's behind them, and I'm not going anywhere.
A rough laugh escapes me despite everything. Leave it to Dar to schedule something called "tantric yoga" right after the morning we just had. The universe has a twisted sense of humor. In a few minutes, Asha will come out of the shower, composed and acting like nothing happened.
I look down at the sweatpants in my hands and shake my head. Tantric yoga with my wife who just edged me into oblivion for revenge, then almost shattered from a phone call, then locked herself away again. This is going to be one hell of a morning.