Chapter 3
three
ASHER
“Did somebody piss in your cornflakes this morning?” West asks. “You’ve had a face like a baboon’s ass ever since you walked in.”
I knew I shouldn’t have come here, despite Hudson and West’s insistence.
My brother and his best friend are both in Manhattan for the night – for their respective businesses.
I’d turned down dinner with them because I had to complete the contract at the Ivory Rooms. And to be honest, I didn’t want to come to this club to drink with them either.
But the alternative – going home – doesn’t feel appetizing anymore.
After making sure Francie got into my car, despite her vow to Uber, I waited until the driver confirmed she was safely inside her apartment before I strode back into the club and demanded that Panther be removed and banned from the place.
Thankfully, the owner agreed.
And then I made a couple of phone calls to our security team, before I left the Ivory Rooms and climbed into the car that came back to pick me up.
“I’m fine,” I say to West, taking another sip of whiskey. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Did you get it done?” he asks. He’s aware of my business problems with Nathan.
He’s the one person I was able to talk things through with when it looked like I was about to lose everything.
I know Hudson would have helped, but he has his own problems to deal with.
His daughter, Ayda, has had a whole lot of issues after a massive custody battle with his in laws.
The last thing he needs are my problems too.
“All done.” And that’s all I want to say about it. There’s no way I’m telling them that I saw Francie Salinger in a sex room.
And I definitely won’t be telling them that she looked like trouble in heels. A walking contradiction with her innocent eyes, filthy setting, and her smart mouth that made my blood pressure spike.
God, I need to stop thinking about the way she looked.
The hostess walks over and fills our glasses with the expensive bottle of twenty-five year-old Macallan that West must have bought.
“Thank you,” he says, winking at her. She smiles back at him and he leans forward to whisper something in her ear, making her giggle.
Unlike Hudson, who’s so straight laced it isn’t funny, West is laid back. He lives in L.A., and although officially he’s an entertainment lawyer, he’s more of a trouble shooter. And his clients get in a lot of trouble.
He’s also got the gift of sweet talking. He’s never without company. And from the looks of the way the hostess is nodding at him, he won’t be tonight, either.
“Asher,” West says when the hostess leaves with a promise to meet him later, “you’ll be delighted to know that Mindy has a friend. We’re meeting at my penthouse in a few hours.” He grins at me and I wrinkle my nose.
“That’s okay,” I say. “I need to go home and do some work.”
“After midnight?” West looks skeptical. “What the hell are you going to do that late?”
Review the security tapes for the Ivory Rooms from the last few months to see if Francie is a regular. “It’s been a long day,” I tell him. “I’ll be sleeping. Alone.”
And I absolutely won’t be thinking about long lashes and innocent eyes.
“Well you’re about as much fun as your brother,” he says, wrinkling his nose at Hudson.
“Keep me out of this.” Hudson shakes his head. “I’ve had enough headaches today, thank you. Did you know Eden lost her passport in Peru?” He glances at me, clearly pissed. “I had to pull some strings to get one urgently provided at the consulate.”
I roll my eyes, because that’s so like our youngest sister. “Yeah, I heard.”
West frowns. “Wait, is she okay?
Hudson gives him a sharp look. “Yeah, she’s fine. Why?”
West shrugs, too casually. “Just making conversation.” But he takes a slow sip of his whiskey, like he’s hiding a smile.
“Anyway,” West says. “I’ve bigger fish to fry. Like how to deal with an extra woman coming to my hotel room.” He lifts his brow at me.
But my gaze meets Hudson’s. We both try not to smile because that doesn’t exactly sound like a problem for West.
And that makes me think of Francie again. Of the way she looked in that tight white dress, her dark hair cascading down her back, her hazel eyes large and full of desire.
When the hell did she grow up? My mouth feels dry as I try to remind myself that she’s ten years younger than I am. But all I can think about is the way she looked at me through those thick, long lashes.
How soft her skin felt against my palms.
I blink that thought away. She’s off-limits. And I don’t need any more problems right now.
Especially not ones involving my little sister’s best friend.
FRANCIE
Hysterical laughter echoes down the phone as I recant the sorry tale of my night at the Ivory Club to Charlie two days later. It’s midnight here, which means it’s only nine o’clock in L.A., and my cousin is getting ready to go out to a bar, that requires clothing.
I, on the other hand, am right out of the shower and ready to get into my pajamas because I’ve spent the last two days in a writing whirlwind, despite my complete embarrassment at my confrontation with Asher Fitzgerald.
I’m stupidly annoyed with him. But I have to submit these chapters to Alice soon so I need to buckle down and write them. So rather than letting my fury fester, I decided to throw myself into the new world I’m creating.
The anti-hero, the annoyingly sexy War Legate Thane Arcor, is all iron muscle and battlefield calm.
One quiet ‘Enough’ and entire battalion obeys him.
He blocks onslaughts with his shields, drags the heroine behind him to protect her, despite her annoyance, and then growls at her for being reckless.
He’s controlling, overprotective, and maddeningly hot. He’d be perfect if every time I write a scene with him I didn’t see Asher Fitzgerald growling at me to ‘stay safe’.
“Why didn’t you just tell him you were there for research?” Charlie asks me, sounding delighted at the turn of events. I’m glad I’m entertaining him with the most humiliating night of my life.
“Because he doesn’t know I’m a writer,” I remind him. When I first started self-publishing I made the decision that I didn’t want anybody except my closest friends to know. That’s why I chose a pen name and swore to never tell my big brothers about it.
“So you’re just going to let him think you’re a deviant?” Charlie asks. “Oh this is so delicious. No, sweetheart,” he says. “Ten minutes.”
“Are you with somebody?” I ask him.
“Just a friend. It’s all good.” He lowers his voice. “Are you going to tell Autumn about this?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. The towel becomes loose and I have to tuck the end back in. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because then she’ll know her brother goes to sex clubs.”
“I think you’ll find it’s an exclusive, luxury adult intimacy venue,” Charlie says, before he guffaws again.
And I wrinkle my nose because I’d never thought that somebody like Asher Fitzgerald would frequent a place like that. I’m really trying not to think about what he does there.
And yes, I’m completely failing.
“Listen, I have to go. Try not to do anything stupid until I’m back to witness it,” Charlie says. “It’ll be okay. It sounds like you both have something to lose if this gets out. If he tells anybody he’s seen you there, he’ll have to explain why he was there, too.”
It’s a good point. And another reason why I love my cousin.
He hangs up and I slump back on my bed, not feeling any better about the other night. All I can think about is the humiliation I’ll feel the next time I see Asher. And I will have to see him. Autumn is my best friend after all.
Before I can think about what the hell I’ll say to him, I hear a thud against the door.
I tip my head to the side, trying to figure out what it was, since it’s after midnight and the only neighbors on this floor are Mr. and Mrs. Penny, a lovely old couple who are both slightly deaf and go to bed at nine o’clock sharp.
After a minute of being on high alert, I start to relax. I’m going to brush my teeth and go to sleep, because tomorrow I have more words to write. It’s only as I quietly pad across the hall that I hear the tinny voice. Like somebody talking through a radio.
My heart starts to hammer against my chest.
In bare feet, I tiptoe as quietly as possible, praying the floorboard in the hall doesn’t squeak. Because if I’m about to be bludgeoned by a serial killer, I’d like to at least draw my time out on earth for as long as possible.
It’s only a short walk through the tiny living room, slash kitchen, slash dining room to the front door.
This is Manhattan, after all, and the rent per square foot is stupidly high.
When I get to the door, I roll onto the balls of my feet and press my right eye against the peep hole, only to see an eye on the other side trying to stare in.
“Shit!” I shout loudly, almost falling over in my attempt to back away from danger. My heart starts to pound as I steady myself, putting my hand against my chest to try to control my breathing. A knife, I need a knife. I look around, trying to remember if I’ve emptied the tiny dishwasher.
I’m going to die with my face in dirty dishes. Nobody will find my body for weeks. It’ll be all over social media, what a loser I am, even in death.
“Miss Salinger?” a voice calls softly. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
He knows my name. Is this targeted? Maybe he’s not here to kill me but kidnap me. He’ll send a note to one of my brothers demanding a huge ransom, and I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Who are you?” I call out.
“My name’s Shaun. I’m a security guard.”
“How do I know that? You could be anybody.”
“I’m putting my ID up against the door. You can look through the peep hole and see it.”
“And let you shoot me through the door? Oh no.”
“If I shot you through the door it’d make a huge mess,” he points out, annoyingly reasonable. “It’d be much simpler to make a fake ID and have you open the door so I could use a silencer.”
“You’re not making me feel any better about this, Shaun.”
“I understand. And you’re not supposed to know I’m here. I’ve only worked for this company for a few weeks,” he says.
“So why are you here?” If it isn’t to kill me, that is.
“I’ve been asked to guard your apartment after an incident the other night. I’ve been mostly outside keeping watch on the building. But my boss asked me to make a check inside tonight.”
“How long have you been here?” I ask him, frowning.
“The last couple of nights. After the incident on Friday.”
The incident on Friday? I frown, because there was only one thing happening on Friday. “Did the club send you?” I ask him.
“What club?”
A little tingle snakes down my spine. “What company did you say you work for?”
He clears his throat. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Then I’m calling the police.” I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I’ve always thought I’d be calm in a situation like this, but my mind has turned to mush. Still, I pull out my phone and lift it to unlock with facial recognition.
“Don’t do that. I’ll lose my job. It’s Fitzgerald Security, okay?”
I pause for longer than a beat.
“As in Asher Fitzgerald’s company?” I finally ask, my voice tight.
“That’s correct. Please don’t tell him you caught me. My instructions were to be discreet. I really need this job. My wife’s having a baby next month.”
Letting out a sigh, I stride to the door and wrench it open.
On the other side, a man in a dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie is standing there. He’s in his early thirties, I think, and he’s looking at me with puppy dog eyes.
“Miss Salinger.” He nods at me.
“Shaun.” I sigh.
He looks at my body and then I remember what I’m wearing. It’s hard to look tough in unicorn pajamas.
“Listen,” I tell him. “I don’t need protection. I’m fine. You can go home, or go get a coffee somewhere.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t disobey orders.”
I take a deep breath. “Thank you for making sure I’m safe, but everything is fine. I’d like to go to sleep now.”
He nods. “I’ll be outside for the rest of the night. I won’t disturb you again.”
I blink, a sudden thought coming into my head. “What if I left the apartment?” I ask him. “What are your orders then?”
“I’m to keep you under surveillance at all times. Until I’m told otherwise.”
“So do you have a car?” I ask him.
He frowns. “Yes.”
“Great. You can give me a ride.” I grab a denim jacket from the hook on the wall, and slide my feet into my sneakers.
“You’re going out in your pajamas?”
“Yep.” I nod. Because I don’t have time to think this through.
I storm down the hallway, Shaun following close behind, and when we get outside I give him the address and insist he drives me there in his car.
And less than ten minutes later, I’m in Asher Fitzgerald’s very opulent, shiny condo lobby, still in my unicorn pajamas. And ready to tell him exactly where he can stick his protection.