21. Checkmate, King
Checkmate, King
Asher
It’s confusing. Everything is so fucking confusing.
I haven’t felt this unmoored since Ari left me for Maddox, but even then, I wasn’t balancing existential turmoil as well as career burnout at the same time.
And if King’s firm really is acquiring mine…
then I’ve lost more than just a client. I’ve lost my footing.
My sense of control. My identity, maybe.
Everything I built, every late night and sacrificed weekend, every pitch and negotiation—it’s all being swallowed whole by a man who called me sweetheart with his hand around my throat.
And the worst part? I don’t know if I want to kill him or fuck him.
Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe I just want him to give me something real, something solid to stand on while the ground underneath me turns to ash.
Except I have no idea what he wants, no idea how we’ll ever move forward from this.
We don’t talk as we walk into the forest. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s not entirely without emotion either.
There’s something fragile in the silence, like a truce, or the ghost of one.
There’s too much energy to truly forgive and forget.
I can feel it crawling beneath my skin, and my mind is ping-ponging between anger at the betrayal, sympathy for the way he was raised, pride for how far he’s come, and then there’s the ever-present arousal whenever I’m around him, which I haven’t let myself delve into yet.
It’s a ticking time bomb, and I’m not ready for what might happen when I admit my attraction to him and men in general.
It’s something I’ve been running away from since I was in high school, since I had a crush on my best friend who happened to be a straight football player.
And since then, I only ever really let myself indulge when I drink, because it’s easy to forget about and play it off as being drunk.
There are a myriad of issues just waiting to explode out of me, and I should probably start seeing a therapist. I think Ari’s best friend is married to a psychiatrist, but I’m also pretty sure he hated my guts when I was dating Ari.
All of it feels like I’m walking on a tightrope, and I don’t know if I want to keep going with the impossible task or to fall and let things happen as they may.
Both options terrify me for different reasons.
As we walk, King doesn’t offer an apology, and I don’t ask for one.
We’re both still too proud for that. Marina was right—in the bedroom, I don’t mind submitting.
I’d never admit this, but I sort of enjoy it in a strange way.
The ability to let go and stop thinking, to have someone guide me, to be told I’m doing a good job…
it’s almost addicting. But outside of the bedroom, there’s a reason I’m as successful as I am.
King and I clash because we’re both bull-headed. You have to be in our industry.
At one point, King reaches out, like he’s going to brush a speck of snow off my shoulder, but he stops halfway through. Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets and keeps walking.
I don’t know what that means.
Like I said… it’s all so fucking confusing.
I’m exhausted from trying to figure out which version of King I’ll get next, the Dominant who holds me steady, or the businessman who plays chess with people’s livelihoods—mine included.
He’s so obstinate—firm and unyielding. Resolute.
He’s like a rock I keep trying to split open, but he refuses to break.
We walk in silence for a while, the crunch of boots on snow the only sound between us.
Pines line the path like tall statues, their branches dusted white, like something from a postcard.
It’s beautiful, and for the first time, the sun is shining.
The light glimmers against the fresh snow, and if it weren’t for my mental volatility, I might appreciate the landscape a bit more than I currently am.
King keeps glancing at me like he wants to say something.
And I keep imagining how easy it would be to shove him into a snowbank and walk away.
The silence is overpowering, and to no one’s surprise, I’m the one who breaks first.
“You really weren’t going to tell me?” I snap, stopping in my tracks.
King turns, brow raised. “Tell you what?”
“About the acquisition.”
He exhales slowly. “I figured you’d find out eventually. Though I hoped the news would trickle through after the retreat.”
“Jesus, Ambrose.” I laugh, the sound bitter and cold. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I didn’t owe you that information, just so we’re clear. I make business decisions all the time. You know my motto.”
It’s just business.
My eyes flash. “Bullshit. We’ve been sharing a fucking bed. You’ve had your tongue in my mouth. You knew what Fuse meant to me. You knew. ”
He looks almost defensive, as if I’m the one handing him a massive betrayal.
“I also knew you’d never grow the firm without someone pushing you to do it.
Not unless I dropped it into your hands.
You’ve been coasting for a long time, Asher.
You’ve gotten complacent in your old age,” he adds, his lips twitching.
“Are you seriously making a joke right now?” I ask incredulously.
He holds his hands up. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying, maybe you needed this push.”
“You think this is noble?” I bark. “Some masterstroke of business ethics? You blindsided me.”
“I did what you would’ve done if you weren’t too busy clinging to pride and nearly killing yourself from stress.”
“I’m not?—”
“Yeah? Then when’s the last time you took a vacation?” I open my mouth to retort, but he holds a hand up. “A real vacation.”
“Oh, so this is all for my mental well-being?” I ask, my voice loud as it echoes against the trees. “How very kind of you,” I seethe, baring my teeth as I step into his space.
Something shadows behind King’s eyes, and he takes a step away from me. The show of submission makes me falter, and I feel like I’m in a fucking free fall.
“Don’t do that,” I hiss, blinking hard against the sunlight. “Don’t you dare step away from me and act like the victim right now.”
King straightens, but he doesn’t close the distance again. His face is unreadable, like he’s blocking the emotions off as much as he can.
“I’m not the victim,” he says evenly. “But you did turn me into a villain.”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you insinuating you’re not? You could sprout a curly mustache and attempt to chip my head off, and it wouldn’t surprise me.” I take a step closer, and this time he doesn’t back away. “Because to me, you’re sure acting like a villain.”
He laughs, and his face relaxes. My fists curl at my sides as he runs a hand over his mouth.
“I think you made me into a villain so you wouldn’t have to admit you like me. So you wouldn’t have to admit that maybe… you like being wanted. You forget that I know you’re attracted to me. There’s no denying the chemistry, not after what happened ten years ago.”
My jaw hardens. “You don’t get to tell me what I like. You don’t get to act as though you know me.”
“But I do know you,” he says quietly. “I knew you back then, and I know you now. I’ve been watching you for a long time.
I lied before—I do follow your personal life.
I know all about Ari and Maddox. I know all about how much you hate yoga and meditation, how you work sixteen-hour days on the regular.
I know your favorite coffee order and that cantaloupe makes your throat itchy.
I know you don’t date women seriously because then you’d have to admit you’re not always attracted to them.
At first, I told myself I was just keeping tabs on you.
” He grimaces, and something akin to sadness washes over his features.
“I became obsessed with getting revenge. So obsessed that I somehow forgot why I started it in the first place.”
His voice is soft now. Frayed at the edges. And I hate how that cuts through me—how sincerity, from him, still finds purchase under my skin.
“I told myself it was business. That it didn’t mean anything. But it did. It always did.”
I blink, hard. “Then why the fuck did you go through with it?”
“Because I didn’t know how to stop,” he says. “Because hating you was easier than wanting you, knowing you always intended to forget me.”
For a second, the wind picks up, rustling the branches above us. I can hear my own heartbeat thudding hard in my ears. I hate that my chest is tight for reasons that have nothing to do with anger and everything to do with ache .
“I needed to win,” King adds. “I needed to prove I could take something from you. That I wasn’t the only one still holding on.”
“And did you?” I ask bitterly. “Do you feel better now?”
He looks at me like I’ve just asked the wrong question entirely. “No,” he says. “I feel like shit.”
The honesty in his voice floors me. But it’s too late, isn’t it? The deal is done.
“You could’ve had me,” I say, voice low.
“Without all of this. You could’ve just…
asked.” His mouth twitches like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Drinks. Dinner. Make it a business meeting—shit, I don’t know.
I always wondered what happened to Ambrose from the bar.
I always wondered what happened to you. Maybe we could’ve been friends. ”
“Friends?” he asks, arching a brow.
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, it sounds silly now.”
“Especially considering you had my cock in your mouth yesterday.”
“God, you’re such a smug bastard. It’s like you think screwing me and screwing me over are part of the same strategy.”
He doesn’t flinch. That same darkness, the stuttering uncertainty behind his eyes returns, and I know whatever he’s about to say is going to ruin me.