Chapter Fourteen Asher
I can tell something is wrong from the second Imani steps into the room. It’s like I’m attuned to her presence the same way some people can sense rain before the sky even starts to darken.
For the last twenty minutes, I’ve been waiting near the bar, half listening to a group of people I barely know and glancing towards the door every time it opens.
By the time she finally arrives, I’m ready to go; ready to smirk and throw out some cutting line for anyone close enough to overhear and play my part in our curated feud.
But that readiness dissolves as soon as I really look at her.
Something is obviously wrong here.
Imani doesn’t look like she’s ready to play the part of a scorned ex-lover. She doesn’t even look like herself. Her posture is stiff and her face is grey and stricken.
At first I think that maybe she’s just nervous being on the receiving end of so much attention.
When she steps inside the room, the crowd ripples, and heads turn towards her like sunflowers chasing the light.
I watch her shoulders lock, her grip on her purse tightening until her knuckles go pale.
She sways slightly on the spot, eyes unfocused, and then I’m moving across the room.
The group I’m standing beside shoot me startled looks and someone even half-heartedly calls my name, but I don’t care who’s watching. I just know I need to get to her.
People jostle against me as I push through the crowd, too caught up in their own conversation to notice me shoving past them, but my eyes never leave her.
She hasn’t even looked up yet, too busy staring at the floor, her hand tightening around her purse like it’s the only thing holding her together.
By the time I reach her, she looks seconds from crumbling. Her chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow bursts and there’s a glazed panic in her eyes when she finally looks up at me.
‘Imani?’
She blinks at me, dazed.
I try again, a little firmer this time. ‘Imani.’
Her lips part but no sounds comes out. She purses them again and gives me a quick shake of her head.
I slip a hand around her arm and she jerks slightly and tries to pull away.
‘No,’ she rasps. ‘Asher, no. They’ll see…
You’re ruining…’ I know exactly what she’s trying to say.
I can feel the room filled with curious eyes focused on the two of us.
I can hear people whispering and wondering out loud what the hell is going on between us, but I don’t care right now.
I don’t care about our plan and keeping up the act or even getting our fathers to call off this marriage.
The only thing I care about is getting her out of here.
I wrap my arms tight around her and push through the crowd, trying to use my body to barricade Imani from all the stares as much as possible, and I don’t stop moving until we get to the exit.
When we burst through the doors and step into the cool night air, Imani gasps like she’s been drowning.
I’ve already pulled out my phone and called for a car before I’ve even fully thought all the optics through.
There’s not as big of a crowd out here, but there are enough people milling around that I have no doubt photos of this moment will be on social media before the night’s end.
Imani winces every time a flash goes off, even if it’s not directed at us.
She’s shivering too, and just as I’m starting to wonder if it might be easier for us to just run in any direction, the car I’ve called suddenly pulls up.
I pull open the door and gesture for Imani to get in.
She hesitates, muttering something about not needing my help, but her hands are still trembling, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m not leaving her like this.
‘Come on,’ I say as gently as I can. My hand, still on her arm, moves to the small of her back and I’m not sure if I’m imagining the way she seems to lean into the touch. ‘We need to get out of here.’
To my surprise, she doesn’t argue this time. Just gives me a small nod before she slides into the back seat. I follow after her and pull the door shut on all the noise and the camera flashes and the non-stop staring.
The silence inside the car is heavy after the chaos we’ve just escaped.
Imani doesn’t say anything. Sat beside me, our legs brushing slightly, I can feel the tension in her body.
Her hands are still trembling slightly, though it’s less pronounced now that we’re out of the frenzy.
For a few moments, the only sound in the car is the low hum of the engine and the faint click of her nails against her purse as she fiddles aimlessly with it in her lap.
Then she exhales suddenly, her breath leaving her in a rush like she’s been holding it in for too long.
I wait for her to speak, but she just sits there quietly breathing in and out. I’m pretty sure she’s grounding herself and I hate to interrupt, but our driver has done the same loop five times in a row at this point.
‘What’s your address?’ I ask.
She winces at the sudden noise and then murmurs it. Her voice is quieter than I’m used to, and I don’t like it. It feels hollow. The driver nods and turns the car in the direction of her building.
I keep my eyes on her out of the corner of my vision as we start moving, watching as the colour slowly creeps back into her cheeks and her breathing evens out again. She looks more like herself, but also more embarrassed than I’ve ever seen her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she blurts out suddenly, shaking her head. ‘God, I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything.’
I frown. Ruin? What could she possibly have ruined?
‘I just…’ She buries her face in her hands, pressing the heel of her palms into her eyes so hard I’m sure she must be seeing stars. ‘God, I’m just sorry.’
‘What are you apologising for?’ I ask, genuinely confused. I feel like I’m missing something incredibly obvious.
Imani peeks at me through her fingers. Some of her make-up has started to run down her cheeks, leaving a streaky, black stain. She still looks beautiful. I don’t think there’s anything Imani could do to not be the most striking person in any room she’s in.
‘What am I apologising for?’ she parrots, looking at me in disbelief. ‘Was I hallucinating and I didn’t just have a complete breakdown back there?’
‘Is that what that was?’ I ask quietly. ‘A breakdown?’
She swallows and looks intently out the window.
‘I don’t know. I just…’ She presses a trembling hand to her chest. ‘I just couldn’t breathe.
Everyone was staring at me. Pointing. Whispering.
Laughing. And I know they’ve been doing that for the last few months, but I guess…
I guess it just finally got to me tonight.
’ She lets out a soft sigh and lolls her head against the window.
‘And I’ve just given them more to talk about, I suppose. ’
She closes her eyes and sighs again. For a moment, I just sit there and study her, watching as the tension slowly ebbs from her shoulders and exhaustion settles in its place.
I take her in – the soft curve of her mouth, the delicate fan of her lashes against her cheekbones, the faint shimmer of her tear tracks catching the light from the streetlamps outside as we crawl along. Even unravelled like this, Imani is breathtaking.
My chest tightens in a way I don’t want to examine too closely right now.
Then her eyes flicker open. Her gaze is hazy and blurred with unshed tears when it lands on me. I jerk away quickly, feeling like I’ve just been caught doing something I know I shouldn’t, and instead pretend to be fascinated by the blur of light outside the window.
‘Thank you,’ she says quietly.
I force myself to look at her again. She’s staring at me with wide, earnest eyes.
‘For getting me out of there,’ she clarifies. ‘You didn’t have to.’
I didn’t have to, but I know I’d do it every time without hesitation. I shrug in what I hope is a nonchalant manner. ‘You needed me.’
Her lips part into a small ‘o’ shape and she cocks her head to the side, examining me thoughtfully. I wonder what she sees on my face because her lips suddenly twitch into a small but genuine smile. ‘I guess I did.’
The car pulls to a smooth stop in front of her building.
I get out first, then circle around to her side, pull open her door and offer a hand without thinking.
She takes it without hesitation and her palm slips into mine like it belongs there.
Her hand is still slightly clammy but her fingers curl around mine with surprising steadiness.
She doesn’t let go.
Not as I help her out of the car. Not as we step through the glass doors of her building, nodding to the concierge as we pass him. Not even as we glide upwards in the sleek lift with only soft jazz music playing faintly over hidden speakers.
I don’t let go either. Not that I want to.
Her hand fits into mine the way puzzle pieces are meant to fit together. I tell myself that this is purely platonic and practical; that she still looks slightly shaky and fragile and that I want her to feel safe. But the truth hums beneath my skin.
I like it.
I like the weight of her hand in mine. I like how I can feel the warmth slowly seeping back into her skin with each passing second. I like how natural walking hand in hand with her feels, like we’ve been doing this forever.
When the doors to the lift open onto the penthouse level, Imani finally looks down at our joined hands as if she’s just noticed them.
For a second I think she’s going to pull away and I ready the apology on the tip of my tongue.
Instead, she gives my hand the faintest squeeze and starts walking down the short corridor, tugging me along with her.
Once we reach her door, she rifles through her bag and pulls out her keys. She has one hand still in mine. Her gaze flicks from the lock to me, down again to where our hands are still joined, and then back to me.
‘Do you want to come in?’ she blurts out suddenly.
‘I—’