29. The King’s Defeat
The King’s Defeat
King
The couples therapy session is scheduled for ten, and I’m leaning against the wall in our cabin, watching Asher pace around like he’s an animal in captivity.
Not only did he disappear this morning, but he only just returned from…
wherever he was. I had to field curious questions from Walter and Jacques all morning, making excuses for his absence.
“You ready?” I ask when he still hasn’t put on his boots.
He shakes his head, not even pretending to feel bad about it. “I’m gonna skip it.”
“Skip it?”
He shrugs. “This isn’t real anyway, Ambrose. No point in wasting an hour talking about feelings we don’t actually have.”
The words land harder than they should, sharp and quick. He’s aiming to sound casual, but it still hurts.
I push off the wall. “So what, you just want to hang out here?”
“Actually…” He glances at his phone, checking the time. “I’m grabbing coffee with Ava.”
Somehow, I know it’s a lie. Also, I clock the phone gripped in his hand. He must’ve asked the front desk for it earlier.
Why is he acting strange?
“You should go. I didn’t do the homework, either, so it’s probably for the best. Tell Marina I say hello.”
There’s something in the way he says it—casual, almost bored—that makes my jaw tighten. “Right. The homework.”
He nods, already pulling on his shoes and coat.
And just like that, I feel brushed aside. Out of control.
Just like when I was a kid.
“See you later,” he says quickly.
I don’t say anything when he walks out the door for his “coffee with Ava.” I just watch him go, hands shoved in my pockets until the sound of his boots on the snow outside fades.
Blowing people off isn’t really my jam, so I quickly head to Marina’s office alone. When she notices Asher’s not with me, I spin a lie that he’s under the weather. We agree to come back tomorrow when he’s feeling better. I’m gone five minutes, tops.
When I push the door of the suite open, however, Asher is already there—sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone like nothing’s wrong. No coffee in sight.
“Back already?” he asks without looking up.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice clipped enough that even I can hear it.
That finally gets his attention. His brows pull together. “Everything okay?”
“Peachy,” I answer, hanging my coat on the peg a little harder than necessary.
He sits up, wary now. “What’s your problem?”
I turn to face him. “My problem? You’re the one bailing on the one activity where we might actually have to talk to each other like adults.”
He scoffs. “It’s couples therapy, King. We’re not a real couple. It’s pretend. Or have you forgotten?”
The words land like a slap, even though I’ve been telling myself the same thing all week. I take a step closer, my hands balling into fists in my pockets. “Funny how it’s only pretend when it’s convenient for you. But when you’re moaning my name and swallowing my cum, it feels pretty damn real.”
His jaw tightens. “It’s just sex.”
“Is it?” I bite out. “Because last night felt pretty damn real.”
He blinks at that, something sharp flashing in his eyes. “You’re impossible to read. Half the time I can’t even tell if you like me, and the other half you’re acting like you own me. Which is it?”
I don’t answer. Not because I don’t know, but because the answer isn’t something I can say without tearing open more than I’m willing to. Without admitting more than I want to.
He shakes his head, grabbing his phone and shoving it in his pocket. “You really want me to play the doting boyfriend for the rest of the retreat?”
My mouth drops open before I respond. “Isn’t that the plan?”
“And what if I don’t want to do it anymore?”
“It’s a little late for that, Harrison,” I growl.
“Why? Can’t I just feign illness? You’re acquiring my company. Walter is yours. What’s the point of me continuing this charade?”
I don’t have an answer for him, but he continues nonetheless.
“If Walter asks, just tell him we broke up.”
I stare at him. He has it all planned out, and that control I was so afraid of losing is slipping between my fingers like sand.
“Is that what you really want?” I ask, my voice hard.
“Maybe it is.”
The air between us is sharp enough to cut skin.
I take a step back, the fight bleeding into something colder. “You’re right. This was all pretend, anyway.”
He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, his jaw working like he’s holding back something he’ll regret. Without another word, he grabs his boots and jacket, opening the front door and slamming it behind him.
I stand there for a long moment, breathing heavily as my heart races.
The silence stretches until I can feel it pressing against my skin. I should let it die here, save the rest for another day. But I can’t.
I march out after him, fury licking every nerve ending.
He hasn’t gotten far—he’s struggling with tying the laces of his boot several feet ahead on the path.
“Tell me one thing,” I say caustically.
He looks up at me apathetically. “Okay.”
“If you weren’t so afraid of this, what would you want from me?”
Asher turns his head enough to look at me over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “I’m not afraid, Ambrose.”
“Yes, you are,” I snap. “We agreed to do this. To show up. Instead, you’re running off and shrugging your way through anything that makes you uncomfortable. Like therapy. Like this morning.”
His mouth curls, but there’s no humor in it. “You want to talk about showing up? You’ve been half here since day one, King. You’re the last person who should be lecturing me about commitment. When’s the last time you were in a real relationship?”
My pulse ticks faster. “Don’t change the subject. This isn’t about that.”
“No?” He stands up fully, walking over to me so that we’re facing each other on the freezing cold path.
“Because from where I’m standing, you’ve had one foot out the door since the day we met.
You showed up with an agenda—lying through your teeth, pretending this was just business while planning to gut my company.
And when you weren’t doing that, you were hiding behind sarcasm and walls so high no one could get close. You want honesty? Start there.”
I take a breath, but it feels like trying to swallow glass. “You think I’m hiding something from you?”
“I think you’re hiding everything from everyone,” he says, voice low and cruel. “Including yourself.”
The words dig in deep, right where I don’t want them.
Right where it hurts the most.
My chest aches, and I open my mouth, ready to fire back with something sharp, something that might actually cut him, but the truth gets caught in my throat.
I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to tell him it’s different with him.
But I don’t, because it’s not.
Because he’s right.
Because I only work in spaces where I can control every aspect as a Dom. Because I haven’t had a relationship outside of the lifestyle in nearly a decade.
I let out a cruel laugh. “You know what? Forget it. This isn’t worth it.”
“Yeah,” he says, bitter now. “Why bother talking when you can just shut down? You’re a hypocrite, you know.”
I stop, my hands flexing uselessly at my sides. “Careful, Harrison. You’re not the only one who knows how to disappear.”
Something flickers across his face—hurt, maybe—but then it’s gone. He leans back on his heels and crosses his arms.
Stubborn asshole.
“I don’t fall asleep with people,” I admit. I’m not sure why I say it, but it feels important to get out. “I never let myself have that vulnerability. I don’t allow that kind of intimacy—ever. And yet I’ve done it with you. Twice, actually.”
Asher’s jaw feathers as his eyes bore into mine, and I continue.
“So imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning and you were gone.”
Something akin to guilt passes over his face, but he doesn’t move.
“I assumed maybe you’d gone out and gotten us coffee.
Muffins. Something. But as it got to be an hour of you being gone, I pulled myself out of bed and told myself…
this is why. This is why I don’t do it. Because when you show your hand to someone who doesn’t deserve it, it fucking hurts,” I add, chest aching.
Asher, to his credit, looks just as devastated as I feel.
“My father never showed me true love. And my mother didn’t know how to raise a boy who wouldn’t turn into her husband—a religious zealot who only knew how to do two things: hate and breed more babies into her.
I left home early because he was emotionally abusive, and I learned how to hone my upbringing into something positive: with consent, domination, and respect. ”
I take a step back and hold my hands out. “I can’t believe I thought this could actually be something. Thank you for reminding me why I don’t let people in, Harrison. It’s been a pleasure.”
I turn and walk around before I can change my mind, heading into the woods to clear my head.
And by the time I get back to the cabin a couple of hours later, Asher’s things are gone.