Chapter 8 #2
“They’re a client. Not of my choosing, I’ll add, but they paid their money and they deserved a good product.” He lets out a sigh, and shakes his head, like he’s as tired of this back and forth as I am.
“What kind of product?” I ask him, more to distract myself from the soft curve of his mouth than anything else.
I can remember when he set up his security business.
Back then I was a teenager, and he was newly graduated from business school.
Before his MBA, he studied physics and computer science.
He and Eden are the brainboxes of the Fitzgerald family, not that the others are stupid.
But where Hudson is clearly business-smart, Asher is just smart-smart.
He blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “It’s a predictive software program. Sees problems before they happen.”
“How can it do that?” I ask, tipping my head to the side.
“We’ve built an algorithm that takes in a lot of data. It’s proprietary so I can’t go into the details, but basically, if somebody is about to do something you don’t want them to do, the system identifies them and gives you the heads up.”
“You can tell what somebody’s going to do before they do it?” My voice lifts an octave. God, that’s scary and impressive at the same time.
“Not exactly.” There’s a hint of a smile on his face, and I prefer it so much more to the anger I’ve been seeing all too often. “It’s very specific. Certain behaviors and certain individuals. Unfortunately I can’t tell the future, otherwise I’d be on a beach somewhere living it up.”
“That’s still amazing, though. How come I haven’t heard about this before?”
He runs his thumb across his shadowed jaw. “Because we don’t want people to know it exists.”
“Your competitors?”
“Among others.” He lifts a brow.
“What others?” I ask him. It’s only when I look up that I see we’ve taken steps closer to each other. He’s only a foot or so away from me now. I have to lift my head to look at him. “Who else can’t know?”
“The people it identifies, for one. Foreign governments. And you. You shouldn’t know at all.”
“Are you going to have to silence me?” I ask him, aware that I sound all flirty.
“I’m going to have to ask you not to say anything. I should probably ask my lawyer to make you sign an NDA.”
“I won’t tell anybody,” I say to him, and it’s true. I mime a zip pulling across my lips and his own mouth quirks. Why can’t it always be like this between us? When he’s soft and open, it makes me feel so warm. Hot, even.
And then a thought occurs to me. “Did you see me on the software?” I ask him. “Is that what made you come into the room that night?”
The smile disappears from his face. Oops, I probably shouldn’t have reminded him that I was there in that room. Watching.
Feeling hot like I am right now.
“No. It alerted me to somebody else.”
“The man who was watching me?”
His jaw tightens. “Yes.”
My brows pull tightly together. “You were angry because you thought I was going to get hurt?”
“You shouldn’t go to places like that. You don’t need to. You’re a beautiful woman, Francie. Desirable. Men look at you and they want to take. Most men have control, but that guy…”
“What happened to him?” I ask, trying to ignore the way my heart pounds at his words. He thinks I’m beautiful.
Asher looks away, like he doesn’t want to answer me.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?” I ask with horror.
“Of course I didn’t kill him. What kind of business do you think I’m running?” He stares at me like I’m delusional.
“But you did something,” I breathe.
“His membership was rescinded.” His voice is emotionless.
“And what else?” I prompt, because I’m a writer. I study people like Asher studies equations. And I know there’s more to this.
“Once we tracked him down, he got a little visit to remind him that if he ever thinks about touching you, stalking you, or doing anything else, he’ll regret it.”
“You sent one of your guards to tell him that?” I ask him. I don’t know why that makes my heart tighten.
He glances down at his hands. “Sort of.”
“You went to see him yourself?” My mouth drops open. The man runs a multi-billion dollar company. Why would he do the dirty work when he has minions to do it for him?
He shrugs. “I wanted to make sure it was done properly. And it was. You don’t have to worry about him. And if you could keep yourself from going to any other clubs, neither of us will have to worry about anybody else messing with you.”
“Keep myself from going to any other clubs?” I frown. “Why would that be any of your business?”
“I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he says. But there’s something in his eyes that I can’t quite read.
“I already have six brothers who think that keeping me safe is their full time job. I don’t need you doing it too. And if I want to go to a sex club, I’ll go to a damn sex club. I’m a grown woman. I can fulfill my needs however I want.”
“Jesus.” He shakes his head.
“There’s nothing wrong with sex, Asher.”
His gaze dips to my lips. Then down to my chest, where the dress is still pushing my breasts up like I’m offering them on a plate.
“I like sex,” I tell him. “Very much. It would also be nice if every man I know wasn’t desperately trying to stop me from having any. Maybe then I wouldn’t need to visit sex clubs for inspiration.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He steps closer. “Will you stop talking about sex and looking like that?”
“Ash?” a low voice comes from the hallway. “You here?”
We both snap around to see West appear in his doorway. He takes in Asher’s body so close to mine that I can almost feel my breasts brushing against his chest.
“Is everything okay?” West asks.
“Everything’s fine,” Asher says, his voice strangled. “I was just telling Francie that we need to get her home.”