Chapter 24
twenty-four
FRANCIE
I’ve been sitting at Skyler and Hudson’s massive, reclaimed wood dining table for the last thirty minutes, sipping a glass of wine and nodding like I care about the NASDAQ and share prices and whatever else they’re all talking about.
Ben, Hudson’s latest wunderkind from the New York office, is holding court like he’s on a TED stage. He can’t be any older than twenty-five and is painfully enthusiastic.
“So I told Hudson that we really need to shift the equity position if we want to maximize yields across all verticals,” he says. “And boom, one week later the numbers prove me right.”
“Boom,” I repeat, deadpan. I down another mouthful of wine. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
Next to me, Skyler keeps looking furiously out of the window at the driveway. She picked me up earlier, plied me with pre-dinner drinks and gossip, and right now she’s on the edge of losing it over Hudson’s lateness.
“I swear to God,” she mutters under her breath, “if he’s not home in the next five minutes I’m going to cut his balls off and tell his associates they’re a new delicacy.”
I try not to grin. “Now that would be a maximum yield.”
She snorts into her water glass. “Exactly.”
“It’s just about making bold moves, you know?” Ben continues. “I told Hudson, if we want to stay ahead of the curve, we need to be the curve.”
“Scratch that,” I murmur to Skye. “You can feed them to Ben while they’re still attached to Hudson. I think he’d like that.”
“Hudson or Ben?” she asks, giggling.
I shrug. “Ben, for sure.”
Before we can be even ruder about her guests, Hudson’s car pulls into the driveway. He drives around to the back of the house to the garage, and Skyler wrinkles her nose.
“I guess his balls stay on. And un-Benned.”
“Maybe next time,” I say, soothingly.
The door to the dining room opens, and Hudson walks in, as cool and composed as if he hadn’t abandoned his wife to entertain his associates. She shoots him a dirty look. He shoots an even dirtier one back.
Oh, they’re absolutely going to have angry sex tonight. I shift in my chair.
“There’s the man!” Ben says, shooting upright like he’s a jack-in-the-box. He rushes to shake Hudson’s hand. “I was just telling everybody about the curve we need to make.”
His words fade into nothing, because Hudson isn’t alone.
Asher steps in behind him, tall and devastating in a fitted dress shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, his jacket is in his hand.
His gaze lands on me, sharp and narrow, then moves to the chair Ben recently vacated and narrows even more. Like he’s trying to figure out how I ended up sitting next to him.
“You brought Asher,” Skyler says, her voice lifting like a woman on the edge. “You told me he wasn’t coming.”
Asher gives her a devastating smile. “That’s all my fault. I changed my mind at the last minute.” His gaze locks with mine again. “Don’t worry, I checked in with Martin. He’s making an extra plate.”
Skyler’s already standing up. “Let me grab you a chair.”
“No need,” Asher cuts in smoothly. He crosses to the end of the dining room and grabs a spare chair from the corner like a man on a mission, swinging it around to slide it in next to Hudson.
Then, without hesitation, he slides into Ben’s seat like he can’t stand the thought of another man being close to me for one more minute.
“That one was taken,” Skyler points out. She gives me a sly look.
“Ben can sit with Hudson,” Asher says mildly. “Looks like they have a lot to catch up on.”
Ben is currently talking off Hudson’s ear about something. The man himself keeps looking at the table like he’s trying to find an out from a conversation that most certainly contains every buzzword in the finance bro book.
Hudson murmurs something I can’t hear, and Ben nods earnestly. He comes back to sit back in his chair and does a double take when he sees Asher sitting there.
“Oh. Uh, that was my seat.”
Asher looks at him with an infuriating calm expression. “It was, but I figured Hudson would love you to sit next to him. He was telling me all about your work on…”
“Equity yields,” Ben tells him, looking delighted.
“That’s it. He was telling me how he could listen to you talking about them all night.”
Skyler snorts into her sparkling water. Ben blinks, then turns to look at Hudson.
“Great, I have a lot of things I need to run past him.”
Before he’s even taken his new seat, Ben is rambling away at Hudson, who glances at Asher, frowning. He’s trying to work out what’s going on. Skyler looks at us all delighted, seeing Hudson starting to get payback for being late.
Asher pulls out his phone, grinning when he reads the screen. He turns it so I can see it.
Remind me why I invited you? – Hudson
Asher taps out a reply, still letting me watch.
Technically, I invited myself. – Asher
Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he lets his leg brush against mine. I lift a brow at him. We’re supposed to be playing it cool here.
But he smiles back, leans in, and whispers low enough so only I can hear:
“Missed you.”
Just two words. But they knock the air out of me more than any teasing touch.
“Dinner is served,” Martin says, opening the door to the dining room. He’s in his chef’s whites, that have somehow remained unsullied despite cooking for hours. Two of the wait staff from the hotel carry in the plates.
“Oh Ben,” Skyler says, leaning forward. “Tell Hudson about that podcast you listened to the other day,” she says brightly. “How long was it?”
“Three hours, but worth it.” He turns to Hudson. “It’s really hard to condense into a short soundbite.” He laughs. “This may take some time.”
Hudson pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers, then picks up his silverware and starts attacking his dinner like it’s his prey.
I lift my glass of wine to my lips, trying to figure out how to get this scene into a book when Asher’s hand finds my bare thigh under the table. He squeezes softly, almost like he’s grounding himself. Then he trails a finger along the edge of my panties and I start to choke.
Red wine splatters from my mouth all over Skyler’s pristine tablecloth. Before I can even try to breathe, Skyler is slamming her hand against my back like I’m her worst enemy, making me choke so hard my eyes start to bulge and tears fall down my cheeks.
Hudson shoots to his feet. “Are you okay? Do you need water? CPR?”
“I’m still breathing,” I manage to say.
“She’s fine,” Skyler says, shaking her head at Asher. “Probably amazed that Ben knows so much about finance at such a young age.
Though she’s not really a finance girl,” Skyler continues smoothly, smiling at Ben. “She’s more of a creative.”
Ben perks up. “Oh yeah? What kind of creative?”
I roll my eyes at Skyler. Hello? My job is supposed to be a secret.
“She freelances,” Skyler says. “Design. Media.” She leans forward. “And of course she models.”
Ben’s eyes scan me like I’m on a conveyor belt. “You’re a model?” he says, like that’s just upped my worth.
I kick Skyler under the table. She smiles sweetly back.
“You live in New York, right?” Ben asks. “We should go out sometime.”
“I’m not sure her brothers would like that,” Asher says, giving Ben the side eye.
“Brothers. Salinger.” Ben’s eyes light up. “Wait, are your brothers with Salinger Enterprises?”
“Mmhmm,” I murmur.
“Wow. That’s amazing. I’ve been trying to get a meeting with Myles and Liam for months. Do you think maybe you can—”
“No,” Asher says smoothly. “She can’t.”
Ben frowns. “I was just going to—”
“Francie is Hudson’s guest. She’s not here to talk shop or be a secretary for her brothers. So maybe let her finish her wine without being propositioned.”
Well that was hot. I rub my thigh against Asher’s. He covers it with his palm.
Ben blinks. “Maybe I could drive you home later? We could talk… creatively.”
Asher slams his fork down. “She’s already got a ride home.”
Ben frowns. “Skyler picked her up. I figured…”
“And I’m taking her home,” Asher says. “She hit her head yesterday. And you’ve been drinking. Probably not great for you to be navigating unfamiliar, dark roads with a buzz on.”
The way he says it makes me think he means hard-on.
I clear my throat. Amused and turned on. I’m not used to being fought over. Not that there’s any doubt who will win.
Hudson frowns. “Wait, I thought Skyler was driving Francie home.”
“I was,” Skyler says breezily. “But I’m pregnant and tired and Asher is a dear.” She yawns theatrically.
I bite my lip to stop from laughing. Hudson stares, then stabs a piece of broccoli. The table dissolves into silence.
Asher squeezes my thigh. And doesn’t remove his hand.
The rest of dinner passes quickly. Ben finds his voice again after dessert, but all I can think about is Asher’s finger tracing my thigh. I don’t dare drink. I barely eat.
“Everything okay?” Skyler asks.
“She looks peaky,” Asher says. “I should probably take her home.”
“But we have coffee coming,” Skyler protests. “Is your head hurting?”
“Coffee is very bad for concussions,” Asher murmurs.
Skyler frowns. “I brought her coffee this morning. She seemed fine.”
“He’s very passionate about concussions,” I say. “Very… thorough.”
Asher smirks. His hand gives my thigh one last squeeze before pulling away. Thankfully, before I combust.
“Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of healing,” Skyler drawls. “Just make sure she rests.”
“Rest is the plan,” Asher says, giving me a look that says it very much isn’t.
I slip my arms into my cardigan. “Thanks for dinner,” I say to Skyler. Then to Hudson, “Have a good night.”
“I’m pretty sure yours will be better,” Skyler says, brows lifting.
Hudson looks at Asher for a long moment, but Asher’s face remains neutral. I can almost see the clock in his brain ticking.
Before he can speak, Asher is pulling out my chair. When I stand, he puts his warm hand along the curve of my back, propelling me to the dining room door.
“Hey, are you doing New York Fashion Week? We should exchange numbers,” Ben says, jumping up with his phone. “So we can—”
“No,” Asher says firmly, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the hallway.
In no time we are out into the night, the cool air a welcome relief to my flushed skin.
Sliding his hand around my waist, he leads me to his car, pulling the passenger door open.
But before I can sit inside, his mouth is at my ear, his body pressed against my hip.
“You don’t give your number to men like Ben, sweetheart. Not when you’re mine.”