Chapter 19
Asher
This is unusual. I haven’t been able to accomplish anything worthwhile the past few days. I can’t get my mind off how things ended with Roxanne.
And now I’m spending the weekend catching up on work I couldn’t do.
I can’t deny that Roxanne is a major part of everything being so muddled up. Aside from her occupying my mind, the fact that she hasn’t come in to work means my job is twice as hard.
I never realized how much work Roxanne did until now. It was quite a shock when she didn’t come in to work three days ago. For some reason, I expected she’d come in and try to get me to change my mind.
However, seeing how she’s left without notice, it’s clear that she wants nothing more to do with me. And now I’m forced to face the fact that Roxanne might have never wanted my money to begin with.
Now more than ever, I fear that I’ve gravely misjudged her. It’s driving me crazy.
My laptop sits open on the conference table in my home study. Three separate reports await my review, and two acquisition proposals require approval. Also, an entire presentation for Monday morning remains untouched.
Yet somehow I've spent the last forty minutes rereading the same paragraph.
My attention keeps drifting toward her and the conversation that has been replaying in my head in an endless loop for almost days now.
Every time I remember the look on Roxanne's face, something uncomfortable twists inside my chest. She looked devastated.
I lean back in my chair and rub a hand over my face.
This is ridiculous. I think to myself.
The woman practically threw me out of her apartment. If she wants space, she can have it. Yet I keep reaching for my phone, then stopping myself before I can dial her number.
The vibration of my phone against the table jerks me from my thoughts. I glance down at the unknown number. Normally, I would ignore it, but I chose to answer it since this is my private number.
No one can call me here unless they’re very important.
“Asher.”
The voice that responds is frantic and young. It’s also very familiar in that it ignites a sense of panic in me.
“Mr. Sterling?” The voice calls again.
I sit upright instantly. “Felix?”
The relief in his voice is immediate.
“Thank God.”
My pulse quickens. Every instinct I possess suddenly grows alert. Ever since I gave him my contact information, he has never reached out. If he is now, I can’t imagine why.
“What happened?” I ask.
The sound of crashing echoes faintly through the phone, followed by shouting. My stomach drops as I grip the phone tighter.
“They broke in,” Felix says frantically.
“Who?”
“Four men.” Felix sounds terrified now. “They're trashing the apartment. Roxy told me to stay in my room, but?—”
Another crash interrupts him. I hear Roxanne's scream somewhere in the background. Then a man's voice.
“Felix.” My own voice comes out frighteningly calm as I rush to my feet. “Are you safe?”
“I think so.”
“Lock your door and stay there.” I grab my jacket and rush out. “Don't come out for anyone except your sister or me. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I pick the first keys my hand can touch and hurry down to the parking garage. “I'm coming.”
I end the call and immediately make another call to my head of security.
“Mr. Sterling?” Jack calls calmly.
“Get a team to Roxanne Sinclair's apartment now. She’s in trouble.”
“Alright, sir.”
I stride through the garage, pressing the key to see which car it's for. As soon as I hear the beep, I hurry toward.
“Also, call the police. I want security there immediately. I'm heading over now,” I rush out as I enter the car.
“We're on it.”
The line disconnects. My hands shake slightly as I start the car, which is odd because nothing has ever made me react this way before.
I don’t think this is fear. No, all I feel is pure, ferocious rage. And a murderous hunger for whoever dared to break into her apartment.
All I can think about as I drive is Roxanne standing in the middle of that apartment, frightened. The reminder that she’s also pregnant makes me angrier.
And suddenly I want to kill someone. The drive to her apartment feels endless. Every red light is a personal insult to me, and every slow driver in Manhattan becomes an obstacle between me and getting to her.
I barely remember parking or entering the building. All I know is my feet rushing over the stairs three at a time.
By the time I reach her floor, my chest is burning. Then I see the doorway. It’s wide open—or rather, it’s broken. Rage explodes through me as I shove through the ruined entrance.
The apartment is in chaos when I enter. Furniture is overturned, and different types of glass are shattered across the floor.
In the middle of it all, Roxanne is crouched near the wall, arms wrapped around herself. She’s trembling.
Everything around me halts as my eyes zero in on her.
The fear in her eyes is all too clear as she refuses to let her tears fall. There’s a bruise already darkening along her arm.
My vision goes red instantly.
I’ve never seen Roxanne look this way before. She’s the type to keep her head high despite the situation, and that’s the only way I want to see her. Yet, these vermin had the guts to make her cower in fear.
My jaw tightens as my hands ball into fists.
“Mr. Sterling.” A male voice calls to me. “Why are you here?”
I turn in his direction and frown. I recognize him from the files I’ve gotten on Blackthorne.
Vincent Torres.
The first thing that crosses my mind is a simple question: why? He has no more reason to come around Roxanne.
It's no surprise he knows who I am. Any serious businessman would recognize me anywhere.
However, having this bastard call me so casually makes me snap.
I turn slowly. He actually has the nerve to look surprised. As if he wasn't just terrorizing a pregnant woman in her own home.
Footsteps thunder behind me. Jack’s voice tells me it's my security team arriving.
Perfect timing.
I point toward the men without taking my eyes off Vincent.
“Get them.”
The command comes out deadly quiet. My men move instantly. One of Vincent's associates attempts to resist. That lasts approximately three seconds before Jack subdues him.
The apartment fills with shouting and cursing, but I ignore it all as I turn toward Roxanne again.
I kneel beside her. “Roxanne.”
Her eyes lift toward mine. Anger flashes in them immediately. It’s almost shocking that even now that she’s so terrified and shaking, she’s still angry with me.
The realization should amuse me. Instead, relief crashes through me so hard I nearly close my eyes.
She's okay.
“Are you hurt?”
She snags her lower lip between her teeth as she scoots out of my reach. The action breaks my heart, but I try not to dwell on it.
Roxanne shakes her head. “I'm fine.”
The lie is obvious because she's still trembling. There's blood on her elbow, and her face is too pale.
Behind me, Vincent raises his voice. “Mr. Sterling, I don’t know why you’re doing this. We’re just doing our work. We have business with Ms. Sinclair.”
I stand. “What business would that be?”
My voice echoes through the apartment. Vincent visibly hesitates as he tries to get out of the security’s hold.
“She owes my employer money.”
My brow draws together. “What money?”
“Asher,” Roxanne calls behind me, but I ignore her and continue toward Vincent.
Vincent blinks as he rambles on. “She owes Blackthorne?—”
“She doesn’t owe anything. I paid that debt in full.”
Vincent gasps. “What?”
“Two days ago,” I continue. “I reached Blackthorne myself and took care of it. So why on earth are you here?”
Vincent's expression changes instantly, shock overtaking his face. He shakes his head frantically.
“Nobody informed me,” he says.
I don’t see how that’s possible. If anything, it’s obvious Vincent Torres just wanted to target Roxanne.
I snap my fingers at Jack. “You can explain that at the police station. And trust me, I’ll make sure even Blackthorne won’t be able to pull strings to get you out.”
His face drains of color. Jack signals to his men, and they pull the four men out of the apartment. Ten minutes later, the apartment is finally quiet. Yet Roxanne still looks exhausted.
It’s like she's holding herself together through sheer force of will.
I approach her carefully. “How are you feeling?”
“Wonderful.”
The sarcasm is biting. I know I’m the last person she wants here, but I can’t bear to leave her alone.
Her eyes are still red, and tears cling stubbornly to her lashes. Yet the anger there seems to burn brighter than mine.
“Why did you come here?” She asks.
The question catches me off guard. “Felix called me.”
Her glare deepens. She looks away from me. I place my hand over her shoulder, but she shrugs it off again. I study her for a moment.
“He said you were in danger. I couldn’t just pretend not to know that,” I explain.
She raises her eyes up to mine. I notice something soft briefly appear in her eyes. It disappears almost immediately, and I wonder if I imagined it.
“Why did you pay the debt?”
The look in her eyes tells me it’s the main thing troubling her about this situation. That doesn’t sit well with me. Oddly, I want her to be comfortable receiving help from me.
That is shocking in its own right.
“I didn’t want you to have that hanging over your head,” I say softly. “You’re pregnant, and stress can’t be good for the baby.”
Sure.
It’s better to pin it all on my concern for the baby. That’s the most logical explanation as to why I’m suddenly losing my mind this way.
Still, something about her expression tells me it was the wrong thing to say.
Her shoulders straighten. “If you think I’m going to give my baby to you just because you paid off that debt, then you’re wrong.”
“That’s not why I did it,” I counter. “Moreover, shouldn’t you be happy that I cleared your debt?”
“I told you before that debt wasn’t mine,” she snaps angrily as she rushes to her feet. “Tristan created that mess.”
I remain silent. I couldn’t even bring myself to utter a word because now, I’m starting to wonder just how true her words might be. Looking at the pain in her eyes, I can’t help but believe that there’s some truth in what she says.
And it’s about time I stop being a coward and actually face it. My brother might be the devil in this situation.
“Roxy!” Felix yells.
We both turn in his direction as the boy rushes into the sitting room. His eyes are just as red as his sister’s, and he’s still visibly crying.
“Felix,” Roxanne calls and heads toward him.
The boy throws his arms around her as he sobs even louder. Roxanne pats him gently, fighting back her own tears.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles over his head.
Felix shakes his head. “Are you okay?” Roxanne nods in answer, and he smiles. “I called Asher. I didn’t know who to call, and I wasn’t sure we could call the police because they kept talking about some loan. So I just…”
“It’s fine, you did well,” I say, patting his head.
Roxanne frowns at me briefly, but she nods at Felix. “Thank you for calling him.”
I glance around the place. “I think you should come with me.”
“What?” Roxanne snaps.
“You and Felix,” I add. “You can’t stay here. At least not tonight. You don’t even have a door anymore.”
“Asher—”
“No.” I shake my head. My tone leaves little room for argument. “I can’t let you stay here.”
“I wasn’t planning to. We’ll stay at a hotel.”
“Or you'll stay at my place and save your money.”
Her eyes narrow. The slight scrunch of her nose is so adorable that I find myself almost smiling despite the situation.
“I'd rather stay at a hotel,” she argues further.
“I'd rather know you're safe.”
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. Roxanne’s glare deepens as silence envelopes us. The two of us maintain steady eye contact as we duke it out with our eyes.
Then a familiar voice interrupts. “I'd rather we go to Asher’s.”
Both of us turn to Felix. I give him my widest grin, patting his hair.
“Why don’t you go pack your things then?” I say to Felix.
Felix looks at his sister eagerly. For a moment, Roxanne glares at me bitterly, and I fear that she’s going to say no again. After what feels like hours, she nods reluctantly.
“Fine.”
Relief floods through me stronger than it should. Two hours later, Roxanne is sitting on the edge of a bed in one of my guestrooms. The room is quiet, unlike Felix, who has resorted to gaming with his friends on his phone in his own room.
I step into the room with the first aid box, wondering why she still hasn’t noticed me, even though I knocked more than three times, and now I’ve entered.
I kneel in front of her, cotton and antiseptic in hand. She notices me as soon as I take her hand and scowls.
“What are you doing here? You can’t just come in without knocking!”
“I knocked several times, but you didn’t hear me,” I say as I dab the cotton with antiseptic. “I need to treat your wounds.”
“I can do it myself.”
“I know.”
“Then why aren’t you doing it?”
I ignore her still and carefully clean the scrape on her elbow. She winces in pain.
My jaw tightens as I try to keep my anger at bay. I remind myself that Vincent and his men are now behind bars.
“Hold still,” I say.
“You're impossible.”
The familiar complaint should feel normal. Instead, it makes something ache inside me. Beneath the irritation, she sounds tired. So incredibly tired.
I finish bandaging the wound, then look up. Her eyes are already shining again.
Damn it.
Something inside my chest twists painfully.
“Roxanne.”
She immediately looks away. “Don't.”
Her voice cracks. It's small, but I hear it. Slowly, I rise and sit beside her on the bed. She tries to move away; however, I don't let her. Instead, I pull her gently against me.
Her entire body stiffens. “Asher.”
“Stop resisting me.”
“I don't need?—”
My arms tighten around her. For a moment, she resists, then she simply collapses. The first sob tears through her and my heart.
I close my eyes. God. The sound nearly destroys me.
“I've got you.” The words leave me before I can think. “You don't have to do everything alone.”
She shakes her head against my chest, crying even harder. I hold her tighter. In this moment, this feels more important than anything else.
“You can rely on me,” I say.
The statement surprises even me, but I know how much I mean it. Somehow, somewhere along the way, I've begun to care so much more about Roxanne.
Eventually, her sobs weaken, and they disappear entirely. Her breathing slows until finally, I realize she's asleep, still curled against me and clutching my shirt.
I sit there for several long minutes simply holding her and watching her sleep.
The act feels much more intimate than anything else. The primal urge to protect her consumes me.
When I finally lay her down beneath the blankets and leave the room, my chest feels heavier than before. All I can think about is Tristan’s relation to her debt.
If Tristan is involved in this…if he put her in that position, then God help him. Because seeing Roxanne hurt awakened something dangerous inside me.
And right now, I find myself wanting revenge.