Chapter 27
My All
Asher takes my hand as we walk through the door to Jagger’s lake house.
“What’s wrong, princess?” He stares down at me, crease lines forming on his forehead.
He looks drained tonight as well. Maybe the stress of all this is getting to him.
Or maybe he just couldn’t stand the silent treatment a second longer.
The drive from the city was pretty damn long, just staring out the window.
I reach up and touch the side of his face. “You’re so pretty.”
Amusement dances in his eyes. “No dude wants to be told he’s pretty, Daisy.”
I shrug. “You shouldn’t be pretty then.”
That makes him laugh. “I think you need water.” He bolt locks the front door and turns on the security system.
He helps me to the kitchen with him and pours me a cold glass of water, handing it to me with a look of curiosity on his face.
I sip at it, watching as he drinks down one of his own. When my head spins, I take hold of the countertop. This time I don’t think the spinning is from my injury. “What happened when you went looking for that man, Silas?” I ask, since he hasn’t said a word about it since he got back.
“Cruz and Jagger are dealing with him now.”
About as much as I expected him to tell me. Nothing, really. “Your knuckles are all busted up.”
He tucks his hand into his pocket like it can hide the damage. “He had it coming.”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Because of what he wanted to do to me?”
His shoulders tense as he places his glass in the sink and walks back toward me, playing with my hair before he tucks it behind my ear. “Because of what he would have done to you, princess. That fucker will pay for ever even considering hurting you.”
My head spins, and I take hold of him so I don’t go over. I’m trashed and I know it. I drank way too much champagne trying to block out all the shit thumping through my head and all their overbearing bullshit.
“Are you a little tipsy? How much did you drink while I was gone?”
I look him dead in the eyes. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed,” I mutter, pulling out of his grip and heading down the hallway, using the wall for support as I go.
I haven’t drunk that much since the night I partied too hard with Sloane in Italy.
The night Valentine threatened to break both my legs if he ever found me dancing again.
“Fuck you, motherfucker.” I do a spin just to prove I can dance whenever the fuck I want to.
Asher catches me. I didn’t even realize he was right there.
“You swearing at me, princess?” he asks, confused.
“Fucking Valentine,” I mutter under my breath.
“You’re talking to ghosts, you really are drunk.” He laughs. “Lucky Jagger’s not here, we would both be in shit for letting you get into such a state.”
“Yeah, it is lucky for him,” I grumble as Ash holds me up, helping me into his room with him.
“I can dance if I want to,” I tell him.
“I know you can,” he agrees with a confident smile. “I can’t wait to watch you dance up on stage again. I have seen a lot of dancers in my time working at the club, but no one knows how to move the way you do. It’s hypnotic.”
Damn, this man is smooth. No one has ever said my dancing was hypnotic before.
“I’m glad that’s clear,” I sass back, not really sure where I’m going with this but knowing I need to keep some sort of distance between us.
Emotional, physical, literal inches. I get too close to him and I know I’m a goner.
It’s the effect he’s had on me since he walked toward me ready to give me my interview.
And right now, my head is a whirlwind of stuff just flying about up there.
I’m so mentally exhausted I can hardly drag my body to bed, let alone deal with the reality that the men I love are all lying to me.
Fresh pain surges in my chest at the thought.
Clearly I didn’t drink enough to stop it.
I head for my room, but just before I open the door, his hand laces with mine and he pulls me back to him. “Stay with me tonight.”
My eyes run down and over his black button-up and his suit pants. He’s one fine specimen. That’s why I know this is a bad idea. “Better not,” I mutter then shove open my door and go to pull away.
He scoops me up, cradling me in his arms. “You’re in no condition to sleep alone.”
I stare up at him. “I’m in no condition to sleep with you,” I say mostly for myself.
“Why don’t we let the sober one be the judge of that.
” He strides through his open door and tosses me down on his bed.
He stares down at me, his hair hanging over his eyes.
“Tell you what, lie with me for a bit, and when you can walk in a straight line again, I’ll let you sneak back to your room.
Boys won’t be home for hours, Jagger won’t know.
” He winks at me, all cheeky. “We can just hold hands.”
I want to burst out laughing, but something in his silly comment has me choking up. Why can’t I go back to our first night sleeping side by side, when I had no idea how much this man and his brothers could hurt me? It feels like a lifetime ago.
“I’ll get your pajamas.” Satisfied I’m not fighting him on it, he turns away from me and moves back into the hallway.
I slouch back and stare up at the ceiling.
I should jump up and run while he’s not looking, but even in my inebriated state I know I stand no chance against their state-of-the-art security system and the guards now patrolling the yard and the only way out of this place.
They’re smart, I’ll give them that, working out exactly how to trap me.
Asher returns with my silk pajamas, tossing them to me. My heavy body fights against me, but I still manage to sit up.
Unbuttoning his shirt, he watches me, his chiseled chest peeping through the gap he’s making as each button is released. I get the sudden urge to run my tongue over it, run it all the way down to his… Oh damn, now I’m staring at his package.
He catches me and chuckles darkly. “Here I am trying to be a good boy and get you safely into bed and you go looking at me like that.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Like what?” I whisper. His belt hitting the floor registers in my ears, but I can’t stop staring at him.
“Like you want me to fuck your brains out.”
“That would be a bad idea.”
“Very, considering how much you have clearly had to drink. You need to sleep off your bad choices.” He shoves his pants down his legs, making it damn obvious sleep is the last thing on his mind as well.
I nod, agreeing with him. “Yes, sleep,” I say, as much for him as me.
I strip off my dress and toss it over the chair in the corner, followed by my bra, still looking at him like I want him to fuck my brains out.
Because that’s exactly what I want. I know it’s crazy, but I want him close right now, need his warm body tangled with mine.
It’s a false sense of safety, a notion of love I was beginning to think I deserved and even wanted.
It’s all a big fat lie. But just for one more night, I want to hold on to the lie and pretend this is my happily ever after.
That the three men who have been protecting me were doing it all for me.
Pretend they are nothing like my papa and brother.
That they’re in it for me and me only. That I’m worth it.
A silent sob wracks through my chest. I’m not worth it.
My own family didn’t think so and neither do they. I’m useful, that’s all.
He closes the distance between us. His finger sliding under my chin, he tilts it so I’m forced to gaze directly into his eyes. He draws me in close, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Talk to me, beautiful.” He brushes my hair back and kisses my shoulder.
“I don’t want to talk tonight.” My fingers reach around his cock, showing him what I want.
“You make having a quiet night impossible.” He chuckles, helping me as he tugs his briefs down his legs so he’s completely naked.
I stroke his length. He’s so hard and feels so damn good I get a flutter go right through to my lady parts; they’re almost desperate to be filled up by him, screwed the way only Asher knows how.
The bed dips, and he climbs in beside me.
I have no clue what possesses me to do it, but I shove him back and roll on top of him, straddling him.
He’s so beautiful, of course he doesn’t want me for me.
He could have anyone. And probably has and will continue to after we’re married, I’m sure.
That is my reality. They’ll marry me, but they will never really be mine or me theirs. I’m just a commodity.
Asher stares up at me, delight dancing in his eyes. “I never believed in marriage until I met you, Daisy.”
I huff out a laugh, unable to help it this time. He can’t keep this charade up. “It’s not real, Asher, just convenience, isn’t it?” My words sway with me.
“It’s real for me,” he says softly, a hint of pain in his voice I didn’t expect.
Tears well in my eyes, and I feel like all life is being squeezed out of my heart.
He lies as well as Cruz. I lean forward and run my fingers through his soft hair.
“I never believed in love until I met you boys, never thought I was worthy of it or that anyone was worth the heartache if it all went bad in the end. I kept my heart so tightly wrapped up and protected I thought no one could ever hurt me,” I whisper through the pain in my throat.
He touches my face so gently it almost hurts. It would be easier if he was rough with me right now. “You don’t have to do that anymore. You can believe in love. We all love you. Jagger will never say it, but we do. This is it for us, you’re our girl, and we would do anything for you.”
I sigh, wishing it was all that simple. Pretty words from a pretty man. But that’s all they are. I roll my hips, and finding the tip of his cock, I slide down onto him. “I do love you, Asher.”
His lips curl up at the sides, and he takes my face in his hands. “I fucking love you so much, Daisy.” He pulls me toward him, kissing me so deeply I’m sure I feel it. And that’s how pathetic I am. I have myself so wrapped up in this shit that I think it’s real, when it’s all just a delusion.
I rock over him, his massive cock filling me over and over again until I’m trembling all over.
I want more of this. Need it to be real.
Tears roll down my cheeks; I can’t stop them.
Pain radiates through my chest, this all hurts too much.
I don’t want it to be a lie with them. I need it to be real, because if it’s not, it’s going to destroy me.
He rolls us so he’s on top, pinning me under his large frame. His hands coming to the side of my face, he strokes my hair softly out of my eyes. Then his thumb brushes over my tears. “What’s wrong, princess?”
I blink back up at him, willing the tears to fuck off. I need him to just screw me right now, I need something to ease this all-encompassing pain. “Just screw me, Ash,” I murmur, pain taking over. This is too much to bear.
His eyes narrow, and his lips form a thin line. “Not when you’re crying.”
“Just fucking do it.” I cry harder, tears blurring his face.
He looks so confused I almost feel sorry for him. Almost, except he did this to me. They all did. They broke me.
I rock my hips to meet his, trying to get him to move, but he’s frozen watching me.
“I’m not him, princess, I promise I won’t hurt you like he did,” he says softly, trying to placate me. But he has no idea the awful truth I know.
I suck in a ragged breath, trying to stop the tears from consuming me. Promises I need to hear but can never really believe. He’s already hurt me whether he meant to or not.
I reach for the back of his neck and tangle my fingers into his hair, gripping tightly.
“I know you’re not him.” But not all hurt looks the same.
Valentine might have been physically abusive, but I never loved him when I was married to him.
I could compartmentalize and keep myself safe.
Now it feels as though my heart has been ripped wide open.
If he slapped me right now it would hurt less.
“Do you remember when I asked if you have ever had a fork-in-the-road moment?”
“The first day I drove you to work?”
“Yeah.”
“You made the right choice, Daisy. You ran and made a new life for yourself, you chose you. That can never be wrong.”
I huff out a laugh. “What if I chose you three instead of myself?” I’m an idiot because I know that’s what I did. I picked them instead of running, instead of fighting, I opened my heart, and now it’s too late.
His brows knit together. “I think you’ve lost me.”
If I marry you, I’m choosing you, not me.
“I’ve had too much to drink, I’m lost myself,” I lie, getting way too close to the truth.
I beckon him with a finger, wanting his lips on mine.
Because the reality is too much to take, and right now, I need Asher to do what he does best. Screw.
“Screw me like I’m your wife already,” I whisper into his lips, knowing he will never be my husband because I can’t let it happen now that I know the truth.
I have no idea how I do it, but I have to choose myself. And find a way out of this mess.
I feel his grin and know I have said exactly what he needed to hear.
Yeah, I’m sure this man wants to be married to me.
In fact, I believe that he thinks he’s in love as well, just like his sister said.
But if I stay and marry into this family, I will be choosing them and not what I really came to the States to do—find myself and make my own way in this world.
I know Sloane said it’s almost impossible for me to help run the Italian Moretti Media, but maybe they all underestimated me.
I would have, and what they forget is I grew up in the media world.
They may have sheltered me from the mafia side of things, but I know media.
And not only do I know it, but me taking the reins and going against my papa and brother will show them I’m not the pathetic little girl they raised me to be.
I know what I have to do. But for tonight, I just want to know what it feels like to be Asher Stryker’s wife.
He stands and drags me to the edge of the bed with him. Collecting my legs in his large hands, they wrap around his hips as he fills me with his cock again. “Is this what you want?”
“I want it all, Ash. Screw me all fucking night.”