Chapter 4 Asher
I HATE MORNING appointments. My PA, Elaine, usually tries to ensure my meetings are all scheduled in the afternoon or evening, but that isn’t always possible, depending on the client.
This particular client, Alister Maxley, is obviously an early riser who believes everyone else should follow his example.
If I hadn’t seen an opportunity in his business, I would have dismissed him when he first called me out of the blue a week ago.
At least Elaine is able to convince him I’m unavailable until eleven.
We’re meeting in Maxley’s Midtown office, an attempt to no doubt impress me with his company’s importance.
I’ve done my due diligence–or rather my team has–and I know he’s struggling to keep his head above water.
From what my team has gathered, mine is the fourth company he’s contacted looking for a life preserver.
As inconvenient as the meeting time is, I figure it’s worth it to see what he has to offer, though, as I told him on the phone, there’s no guarantees.
“You’re Asher Winston?”
My lips curl up in a smile I know doesn’t reach my eyes. “Is there a problem?”
“N-no, I just, well…you seem a little young.”
“Good genes. Now, if there are no other appearance-related issues you have, can we get down to business?”
“Um, yes. Yes, of course. Milo?”
The man to his left pulls a folder out of a stack before him and slides it across the table to me. I open it and glance at the figures. “What is this?”
“That’s our financials,” Maxley replies smugly.
I close the folder and push it back across the table, then stand up.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving, obviously. I don’t appreciate having my time wasted.”
“I don’t understand,” he objects. “You said you needed to see our financials.”
“And you showed me an annual report any employee could print out from your website. It’s no wonder your company is going under if you don’t even know what’s involved in a financial disclosure.”
He looks indignant. “I’ll have you know–”
“Mr. Maxley,” I interrupt him. “If you expect me to invest my money in your company, I want to see the books. Otherwise, this meeting is over.”
I turn and walk out the door, pulling out my phone and texting my driver to pick me up out front. Maxley catches up with me at the elevator. I quirk a brow at him, waiting for him to speak.
“I can send the paperwork over to you this afternoon.”
The elevator dings open and I wait for the people onboard to walk past before stepping inside. “To be honest, I’m not sure I want to do business with you.”
With that I press the button for the lobby and smile to myself as the doors slide shut. Benjimen has the car waiting at the curb when I exit the building. I slip into the back seat and pull out my phone.
“Where to, boss?” he asks, saying nothing about the brevity of my meeting.
When I pull up my texting app I spot the thread from last night with Cord. “Head down to Hell’s Kitchen.”
“Any particular place?”
“No. Just drive. I’ll know if I see it.”
I call Elaine and tell her to cancel my one o’clock, then ask for a favor.
“What do you need, Asher?”
“See if you can find a residential listing for a Cord McCallister in Hell’s Kitchen. Call me as soon as you have something.”
“Will do.”
If anyone can find Cord, it’s Elaine. She’s not just my personal assistant, she’s a former black hat hacker.
In fact, most of the people who work for me have multiple capabilities.
Yes, I’m good at business, but I also believe in making the most of my opportunities.
Some of my employees are Clansmen, while others are humans I’ve kept out of jail or other entanglements, and I pay them all extravagantly to buy their loyalty.
Dante Fantini might think he’s the big bad around town because he runs the Crimson Guild, but when it comes to true power, I have him beat hands down. I just don’t advertise the fact.
? ? ?
True to her word, Elaine comes through for me, and quicker than I would have thought. I direct Benjimen to park in the first open slot down the street from Cord’s building and wait for me.
He glances around and I follow his gaze, noticing the One Hour Parking sign. “How long will you be gone?” he asks.
To be honest, I’m not sure. I don’t know if Cord is home or if he will even let me in his apartment. “Wait an hour. If I’m not back by then, head to the office. I’ll take a cab back.”
He nods as I get out of the car and make my way down the street toward the building, a four-story brick structure with arched windows.
Probably pre-war. Just the kind of place I’d expect Cord to occupy.
Before going inside I make a detour to the entrance of the parking garage to see if Cord’s car is there.
There are about thirty slots, half of which are occupied.
I spot the black Chevelle parked next to the door to the lobby.
When I step closer, I can feel heat coming off the engine, so I assume he’s been out already this morning.
Or he came home late.
Though he did say in his text last night he was going to bed. It’s been a while since we shared that kind of information, so there’s no way of knowing what he’s actually been up to. Time to remedy that.
I leave the garage and enter the building through the street entrance.
The lobby is simple but welcoming, tiled in a beige and black checkerboard pattern.
A security guard sits behind the desk facing a bank of monitors and I realize he probably saw me in the garage.
He looks up expectantly when I approach, confirming my suspicions.
“I’m looking for Cord McCallister.”
I already know his apartment number, but recognize this man is the gatekeeper and allow him to do his job. I hope this doesn’t mean he’ll call ahead of me, since I’m pretty sure Cord won’t answer his door if he knows it’s me.
“Apartment 310,” he says, then when I look around, adds, “No elevator.”
I thank him and start toward the wide staircase that occupies the back half of the lobby.
Apartment 310 is at the end of the hall, likely facing the street.
I listen for a moment before knocking on the door.
There’s the sound of footsteps beyond, then a bolt being thrown back.
When the door swings open, Cord’s neutral expression changes to annoyance when he spots me.
“How the fuck did you find me?”
“It wasn’t that hard,” I reply with my most disarming smile.
We stand there for a moment staring at each other before he sighs and slumps against the door. “What do you want?”
“To continue our conversation from last night. You want to do that in the hallway, or will you invite me in?”
“Fuck me,” he mutters under his breath then turns and heads into the apartment.
I take that as an invitation and walk in, closing the door behind me and following him into a sunny livingroom.
It’s everything I’d expect Cord’s home to be–colorful, chaotic, and comfortable.
Large, mismatched furniture is arranged atop a thick Oriental rug.
There’s a scattering of blue and green glass orbs and a couple of houseplants on the wide windowsill. When did Cord become so domestic?
He plops down in the middle of the long couch that he no doubt had custom made to fit his tall frame and sprawls out, looking up as though daring me to object. I take a seat in an overstuffed wing chair opposite him and meet his eyes.
“You wanted to talk, so talk.”
He isn’t going to give me anything. Cord is a tough nut to crack, even when he’s being cooperative. He’s always kept things close to the vest, and prying them out is sometimes like an epic quest. Lucky for me, I enjoy a good challenge.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“I’m surprised you even have to ask. Did you forget that much?”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten anything.”
As if realizing his mistake, he glances away, focusing his gaze beyond the window. I barely hear him when he murmurs, “You know this isn’t going to work.”
“It always did before.”
“For you.”
“I seem to recall you being very…satisfied.”
He snorts. “Is that what you call it?”
“I call it anticipating your needs.” I lean forward, capturing his eyes. “I call it coming apart in my arms. Tell me, Cord. Has anyone else ever made you feel that way?”
He swallows and looks away. “Maybe I need more than that.”
“What do you want, baby? Tell me and I’ll make it happen.”
“Don’t call me that.”
I bite back a smile. “I remember a time when you loved it when I called you that.”
“That was then. We’re not…together now.”
I don’t want to get into a blame game of whose fault that is. Things were said in anger, things for my part I wish I could take back. But that was a long time ago. “Maybe I don’t want things like they were.”
He looks at me, surprise registering in the blue depths of his eyes. “What do you mean?”
Time to put my cards on the table. If I scare him away, at least I’ll do it trying.
“Think of it as Us 2.0. New and improved. I’ve changed.
I’m sure you have, too. But what we had, what made us great together, that’s still there.
I can feel it. I know you can, too. When I saw you last night, it all came rushing back.
The need. The yearning. The hunger. You’re like an itch I can’t scratch.
And I realized how empty my life has been without you in it. ”
I wait a beat. Wait for his reaction. For his rejection.
“An itch, huh? That’s what I am to you?”
I shrug. “You know what I mean.”
His eyes narrow, watching me. “Do I? Maybe that’s not how I feel. Maybe I can’t do it anymore. Maybe…maybe I’m broken.”
I frown. “Broken? Did someone…who hurt you? Tell me and I’ll kill them myself.”
He shakes his head. “It was you, you idiot. You’re the one who broke me.”
“Me?” No, that can’t be right. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t. That’s just it, Asher. When you got money, you became money. You thought it would fix everything. And you looked down on me because I didn’t have it.”
“I never looked down on you.”
“No? How about all the times you berated me for working for Dante? ‘You could do better,’ you said. ‘You could make more money on your own.’ After a while, that’s all you ever talked about; making more money.
It’s like you stopped seeing me and only saw what you thought I could be.
If I just had the ambition you had, I could be as good as you. ”
“Is that what you thought?”
He sits back. “It’s what I know, Asher. I was never good enough for you.”
I never meant to come across that way, but the fact that Cord thinks I did cuts me to the bone.
“I only wanted to see you succeed, whatever form that took. I never meant to imply you weren’t good enough.
” I stare at him for a minute, considering everything he said, then drop to my knees and crawl across the floor to kneel in front of him.
His lips curl up in a smirk. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to ruin your suit?”
“Fuck my suit.” I reach up and take his hands in mine, forcing him to meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry if I ever gave you that impression.
You’ve always been the one thing I care for most in this world.
Even when we were kids in that godawful home back in Milledgeville, you were the only reason I was able to go on.
I was terrified when you told me about the Clan contacting you because I was sure it meant you were going to leave me. ”
“You know I would never do that.”
“But you did. Ten years ago. You left and it tore a hole in my world.”