CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ledger
“The deal is on the table, Hiro. Three hundred mil,” I say, moving about my office. My inability to stand still while being on the phone drives my brothers crazy.
“I understand, Ledger, but Takashi isn’t going to budge.”
Fucking Takashi trying to play hardball when he doesn’t know that’s my favorite way to play.
“He’s not going to budge? That’s a mistake and you know it.
” My chuckle is low and taunting as I run a hand through my hair and stare out the darkened window.
“Three hundred is a more than fair evaluation. Your property is aging, your traffic is down, and Takashi has undermined it by using its equity to leverage his Tokyo project.”
“How did—”
“Yes. I know about that. I assure you I’m more than thorough in my research before jumping into negotiations.” I pause for effect. “No stone is left unturned. It’s important to know what I’m jumping into before I make the first phone call to express interest.”
Yes, Hiro, I know everything about everything. Like his affair with his assistant. Like how he’s using some of the equity in the property we want to pay off his gambling debts.
Yes, I know he has no other choice than to sell.
His silence tells me my message was heard.
“I’m not in the business of lowballing people. This is a more than fair evaluation that he won’t get from anyone else.”
“Understood.” His voice is a little less steady now.
It’s also more than bullshit that Takashi isn’t speaking to me himself.
No doubt he’s standing beside him, listening to this whole conversation, too chickenshit to deal with me himself.
Hiro clears his throat. “He’ll have a decision for you by the end of the week. ”
“No. He’ll have a decision for me by the end of the hour or the deal is off the table. Talk soon.” I hang up without letting him respond.
Always negotiate from a place of power.
My father’s words come back to me. My smile is bittersweet, the pang in my chest still raw.
He was a hard man. Demanding. Unmalleable. He loved his sons with all his heart, but he definitely expected perfection. And for reasons I had no control over, he expected it the most from me. I was his firstborn. I was the most like him.
I don’t know the reason, but some days I loathed it, others I understood it. Regardless, it made me the man I am today, so I have to respect it.
And I’m not going to lie, the high I get from negotiating a purchase like this new project in Tokyo is pretty damn spectacular.
Even if it means my plans for the night to go to Connor’s and see if Asher is there were thwarted.
It’s not like you don’t know where she lives, Ledge.
I have an hour to kill waiting for Takashi to respond—and he’ll respond with a minute or two to go simply to let me know he’s in charge—and a bottle of whiskey in my desk drawer that was a welcome gift from the owner of Cedar Falls Outdoor Adventures to drink while I wait.
At least someone in this town is glad we’re here.
I stare at the bottle and then out the window toward the direction of Connor’s where I’d prefer to be, and then back to the bottle.
I’m two glasses in when my cell rings. Like I thought, Takashi pushed it till the last minute. I have half a mind to let it go to voicemail and make him sweat it out, but I want this deal done so S.I.N. can move forward.
And so I can cross another item off my list of things I wanted to accomplish: expand the S.I.N. brand into Asia.
“Takashi.”
“Sharpe.” He doesn’t sound happy. Not my problem. When you’re the golden boy of one of Japan’s biggest tycoons and are about to find yourself in a fire sale to cover your ass, you wouldn’t be either.
“I’m assuming you have an answer for me.”
His sigh is heavy, his distaste for me palpable. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Say it, fucker. Say, we have a deal.
Another sigh of reluctance. Or distaste. Either one is fine with me. “I accept your offer.”
I fist-pump into the empty room, but when I speak, my voice is controlled. “Congratulations, Takashi. I’ll have my counsel reach out to yours and get the details situated.”
“You gave me no choice,” he says.
“No. You gave yourself no choice. I’m just being a smart businessman. I’ll be in touch.”
I end the call, sit my ass on the edge of my desk, and just take a minute for the acquisition of Miyako-Jima Resort to sink in.
Six months of negotiations. Three visits to Japan.
It will all be worth it though. I fire off a text to Callahan and Ford to let them know the deal is done, but it’s late in New York, and I don’t expect an answer.
High from the adrenaline rush of clinching a deal that will potentially open the Asian market for S.I.N. investments, I swallow the rest of what’s left in my glass. Antsy and with too much energy, I grab my keys and head out the door of the resort.
Fresh air.
That’s what I need. Fresh air and yet, my feet don’t stop once I’m outside and have found it.
“Done for the night?” Bernie, our site security guard, asks.
“I am.”
“It was a late one for you.”
“Always is.”
“Any plans? The night’s still young, you know.”
“I do. Thanks.” I stop to look at him as if he just made me realize where I already knew I was going. “Have a good night.”
It takes me a good fifteen minutes to walk to Connor’s. By then, the whiskey’s worked its way through my system, keeping me warm and simultaneously spurring me on.
The parking lot is crowded with cars, and the patrons have spilled outside onto the outdoor patio at its rear. It’s a large place, and the live music and loud chatter floats out the open windows and hits me from the far side of the parking lot.
The front door has a crowd around it, so I veer around toward the back to avoid it. I’m just about to walk through the small gate that encloses a mixture of low and high tables when I hear a voice.
Asher’s voice.
“Knock it off, Carson.” I turn to see Asher pushing against the chest of a guy who has a good hundred pounds on her. “Stop.”
“C’mon. You’ve been cock-teasing me all night—hell, for years,” he slurs. “Just admit you want me—” The fucker smashes his lips to hers as she tries to struggle out of his grip.
Four strides. That’s all it takes for me to cross the distance and get to them.
“Get off her,” I shout as I push him away. He shoves me back, but I have my fist cocked and let it fly into the fucker’s face before he can say a word.
“Ledger. No.” Asher’s shout of my name mixes with the ooof made by the prick as he stumbles backward and hits the railing behind him.
“Are you okay?” I turn to look at Asher, my one hand out to keep her away and my other toward the guy.
“What are you doing?” she shouts at me as she runs to the man’s side. Confusion blankets me. “Carson? Car?” Her hands are on his face, her voice full of concern. “Are you okay?”
She wanted him?
Wanted the kiss?
Carson mumbles something, his words garbled as he’s clearly shit-faced, before chuckling and bringing a hand to rub over his cheek where my punch landed.
“What were you thinking?” Asher screams as she takes two steps toward me.
“He was all over you. He wouldn’t—”
“He’s harmless. Fucking harmless.” She looks from me and then back to Carson, who’s clearly unaffected much to my dismay, and then back to me. “He’s just . . . Carson,” she says in exasperation as if I’m supposed to know what that means.
And as if on cue, Carson’s laughter rings out as he looks my way.
“S’all good, man. S’all good. I’d fight for her too.
” He stands and wobbles a bit before stumbling a few feet toward the back entrance of the bar.
His words repeat in my head. I’d fight for her too.
“I need another drink after that.” He turns to look at Asher again, smiles sheepishly, and then almost falls off the barstool he’s trying to sit down on.
“You,” Asher says, pointing at me as she stalks toward me, closing the distance between us.
Her face is a mask of fury, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“How dare you punch him. He’s just Carson.
Harmless. Friendly.” She pushes hard against my chest, and I take a few steps back, more than surprised by her reaction. “Just him.”
“I was helping you. Saving you.”
“Saving me?” she screeches.
Her lips.
“Yes.”
Are right there.
“You lost the right to save me, to have anything to do with me, after the night you humiliated me. The night you let me be humil—”
“The night I what?”
“Nothing.” She grits the word out. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I throw my hands out to my sides as she stands before me, a foot shorter and a ball of ire. The people on the patio are unabashedly paying attention to our fight, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve thought about this woman all goddamn week, and I’m not walking away this time.
But humiliated her? What in the hell is she talking about?
There is a look in her eyes—a look years ago I would have been able to decipher but that I can’t right now. We’re strangers. Strangers. The thought is fucking killing me when all I want to do is . . .
“Why did you come here tonight, Ledger?” she mutters.
I have a million smart-ass comebacks on my tongue. Every single one will fuel that temper of hers, but for some reason, as I stare at her standing with the moonlight in her hair, I’m reminded of another time, another place, when she looked similar.
My lavender girl.
And I opt for honesty.
“Because when it comes to you, Asher, I can’t seem to stay away. I want you. Christ, I want you so fucking bad, and seeing that jerk kissing you just about did me—”
Suddenly her fists are in my shirt and her mouth is slanted over mine.
Thank. Fuck.
My hands are on her face, my lips are against hers, my tongue seeks hers, without any thought other than finally.
Her anger is bitter.
Her desire is sweet.
Both riot against my tongue as my head swims with the taste of Asher Wells.
She kisses me with a hunger and fire that match mine. There’s urgency and hesitancy. Desperation and confusion.
There’s just her.
Only. Her.
Fucking hell.
She pushes me away with as much determination as I want to keep kissing her. Her chest heaving. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes wide. “How dare you?” she grits out from lips swollen from mine.
“Dare me?” What the hell? She initiated the kiss. “What are you talking about?” I need more. “I didn’t do a goddamn thing wrong.” My chuckle holds no amusement, just utter disbelief.
And the second the words are said, the moment my laugh falls flat, Asher grips my shirt tighter and yanks me down so that her mouth is on mine again.
There are no thoughts but her.
No questions except for how quickly can we be alone?
And time is of the fucking essence.