19. The King’s Gambit
The King’s Gambit
Asher
The lounge is too warm. Or maybe I’m just overheating. Either way, I loosen my collar as I walk through the dim, wood-paneled space, scanning for Walter. The sweater I’m wearing smells like forest and cinnamon, making it impossible to stop thinking about the man who gave it to me.
I spot Walter near the fireplace, legs crossed, coffee mug in hand, looking perfectly at ease.
He stands when he sees me. “Asher,” he says with a bright, polished smile. “Good to see you.”
We shake hands, and I smile back—using my rehearsed business smile. “Thanks for making the time.”
“Of course. I always appreciate a face-to-face,” Walter says, gesturing for me to sit across from him. “Especially with someone whose brain I’ve been admiring from afar.”
I sit down, shifting slightly in the overstuffed leather chair. “Flattery gets you everywhere,” I reply, laughing lightly.
He laughs too, and I pretend to relax. A server appears, and I order a double espresso.
“I hope you’re enjoying yourself here,” he says, leaning back. “This retreat certainly has charm. And don’t get me wrong, I was honored to be asked to host it. But all these therapeutic exercises are starting to feel like a fucking cult, you know?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, the cold plunge nearly killed me. Literally. But don’t worry, I’m having a good time.”
“That’s great to hear. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for years, and it was Jacques who encouraged me to do this one.”
We chat some more about surface-level things: market trends, portfolio shifts, his distaste for crypto volatility.
Being a self-made multimillionaire investor means that he knows a lot about the business side of things.
We actually have a lot to talk about, and it comes naturally.
It’s going well. I think. I nod along, contribute when I can, and wait for an opening.
Then, just as the server delivers my espresso, Walter leans forward and chuckles. “You know, I just found out this morning. About Ambrose.”
I still. “What about him?”
Walter raises his brows. “The acquisition. You must be scrambling.”
My pulse skips. “What acquisition?”
Walter tilts his head. “King & Rowe. They’re acquiring Fuse Financial Group.” He lifts his glass toward me. “Your firm.”
I forget how to swallow.
Walter pauses, suddenly wary. “You… knew that, right?” My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Walter leans forward, lowering his voice slightly.
“I got an update from my team at six a.m. this morning via my executive assistant calling the front desk. A holding company linked to King & Rowe filed paperwork to acquire Fuse. Quietly, but officially. It’s not public yet.
But I figured out of all people, you knew. ”
I hear the words. I just can’t comprehend them.
That fucking asshole.
Think, Asher, think . I shake my head slowly, eyes unfocused. My throat burns like I’ve swallowed smoke. The room spins.
Walter’s brows pinch together. “Asher… are you okay?”
I nod quickly, shaking off my rising fury. “Yes, sorry. Bit hungover today. Of course I knew about the acquisition.”
Walter smiles, easy and relieved. “Can you imagine if he kept it from you? Trouble in paradise.”
I laugh. “Right. Imagine.”
“So, I suppose that makes my job easier. And the reason for our meeting a little less convoluted.”
“I suppose so.” I rub my mouth, trying to disguise my shaking hand.
“If your firms merge, I can work with both of you,” he adds, clarifying. “Even so, it’s nice to catch up and chat, man to man.”
I pull from the depths of whatever reserves I have left—the ones not already claimed by rage, betrayal, or the phantom press of King’s cock against my tongue—and I smile.
“Absolutely,” I say. “Man to man.”
I grin, even as my whole world burns quietly behind my eyes.
When did this happen? Did King know before the retreat? He must’ve—he must’ve orchestrated this whole thing, right?
“I didn’t come here to heal. I didn’t come here for closure. I came to ruin you. To watch you unravel. To take everything you ever wanted, and then take some more until there’s nothing left.”
“I must admit, I was surprised you came here with a man. I could’ve sworn I’d heard you were dating a woman.”
Breathe, Asher.
“I’m a late bloomer in that department, I suppose,” I explain, hoping Walter will change the subject.
He smiles, but there’s a glint in his eye that tells me he’s about to dig deeper. “I was a late bloomer, too. Did you know I was married to a woman for twenty years? I have two grown children. Jacques was my assistant.”
That earns him a smile from me.
Walter chuckles softly, clearly pleased to have disarmed me a little with that factoid.
“Isn’t it funny?” he asks, swirling his coffee. “Twenty years. It was a happy twenty years, too. I wasn’t repressed or anything. I suppose that sometimes, the people who know us best can’t even see the truth right in front of them. Or maybe they do, and they just don’t want to admit it.”
I hum, pretending to agree, but my brain is still white-hot with rage.
King is acquiring Fuse.
King is acquiring me .
And not just my firm, not just my clients, but the parts of me I don’t even want to admit are his. The parts that knelt for him. The parts that came untouched. The parts that are still sore from how hard I wanted him.
I grip the ceramic handle of my espresso cup just a little too tightly.
“I guess it takes the right person,” Walter continues. “Someone who sees through the masks we wear, and isn’t afraid to rip them off.”
I know exactly what he means, because mine is already gone—and King didn’t even ask before taking it.
The door opens behind me, but I’m not really paying attention. It’s not until Walter sits up straighter—not until I hear the familiar, controlled footsteps—that I realize who’s joining us.
“Oh,” Walter says lightly. “Speak of the devil.”
I don’t turn around right away.
My fingers clench around the espresso cup, and I finish it before setting it down on the table a little too hard.
“Morning, gentlemen.”
There’s a hint of mockery in his tone. Just enough to make my stomach twist and my blood burn with blind rage.
And then, with enough ease to make me want to sucker punch him, King leans down and kisses the top of my head. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?” He rounds the back of my chair like he owns the place before taking a seat next to Walter.
“Fine,” I grit out, using every ounce of self-control not to lose it on him completely.
Walter smiles, oblivious. “Mr. King. We were just talking about you.”
“Oh? All good things, I hope?”
I slowly turn to face King, tilting my head just slightly. “The acquisition, actually,” I reply, my voice hard.
King’s gaze meets mine—steady, unreadable, and dark with something I can’t quite name. Satisfaction, maybe. Or hunger.
Perhaps both.
“Ah,” he says, giving Walter an easy smile. “Touchy subject for this one,” he adds, reaching out for my hand.
My throat is dry. “Well, yeah. You’re acquiring Fuse,” I say, shaking slightly.
He doesn’t blink. “As you know, sweetheart, technically a parent company is acquiring Fuse. I just expedited the paperwork.”
The words hit like a gut punch.
I’m going to kill him. I’ve never had murderous thoughts like this, never felt blind fucking rage like this. Sweat sticks to my back as I send every awful thought through my eyes, directed at King.
It’s infuriating, though. He only squeezes my hand and gives me a placid smile, like he can’t feel the thousands of daggers I’m mentally sending him through my eyes.
“Excuse me, boys. I promised Jacques I wouldn’t be late to our therapy session.
” Standing, Walter claps me on the back.
“Lovely catching up with you, Asher.” Shaking King’s hand, he nods once.
“Call me once things settle down with the acquisition, okay? I’d love to hear more about what the two of you can do as a team. ”
As Walter walks away, I snatch my hand away from King, struggling to keep my voice level. I want to project anger, but I know my expression looks betrayed. I know, because King’s brow furrows as he takes me in.
“Why? Why did you do it?”
“You can’t be surprised,” he says quickly, brushing it off.
“Are you ever going to stop fucking me over?” I ask, my voice breaking on the last word.
Something shadows behind King’s eyes at that, but it’s quickly replaced by a sharp smile. He leans forward, darkened eyes boring into mine.
“You did always say I wanted to fuck you over. I figured I’d do it properly this time.”
I stand too fast, and the chair scrapes loudly against the hardwood floor. King doesn’t move. He just tilts his head, watching me like he’s waiting to see which part of me breaks first.
“You think this is funny?” I hiss. “You think this is a game?”
“I think,” King says coolly, “that if you’re going to kneel for me at night, you shouldn’t be surprised when I take the floor out from under you in the morning.”
My breath hitches. “ Fuck you. ”
I turn and walk out before I do something stupid.