Chapter Twenty-Three
Twenty Three
West
Asharp, insistent rap echoes through the quiet of my bedroom door. Not a knock. A bang. Hard, deliberate, demanding. My blood runs cold. No one knocks like that. No one dares.
My phone, which I had just set down, vibrates with a new message.
Asher:
Open the door, West. Now.
He’s here in my penthouse. The one place I thought was mine, my sanctuary, is now invaded. A fresh wave of rage washes over me. He always finds a way to assert his dominance, to remind me of the leash he holds.
I stalk to the door, my jaw tight, and yank it open.
Asher stands there, an imposing figure, his face a mask of barely contained fury.
He’s flanked by two of his usual gorillas, their presence a silent threat.
The muffled bass from the party in the main living area is a distant thrum, but here in the hallway outside my room, the tension is palpable, suffocating.
“What the fuck is going on, West?” Asher snarls, his voice low but vibrating with suppressed anger.
“I got a call from the board this afternoon. They’re asking about your ‘focus.’ They’re asking about your ‘commitments.’ And then I hear about you, the great West Monroe, hosting a goddamn frat party when you should be preparing for your final exams, for your goddamn future. ”
“It’s a team celebration,” I retort, my voice tight. “We just won against State. I know you saw the highlights.”
“Highlights?” Asher scoffs, a sneer twisting his lips.
“You think that’s what matters? You think a few goals on a frozen pond are going to run Monroe Industries?
You’re graduating, West. This isn’t a game anymore.
This is your life, and you’re pissing it away on…
distractions.” His eyes narrow, boring into mine.
“And speaking of distractions… Kinsley Fischer.”
My breath hitches. The name he speaks feels like a violation.
“What about her?” I demand, my voice dangerously low.
Asher takes a step closer, his gaze unwavering.
“Don’t play coy. My people are thorough.
A certain nursing student, a certain TA with an unusual interest. A series of…
coincidences. And now, she was here. In your penthouse.
Wearing your jersey.” His eyes flick to the hallway leading to my bedroom, a silent accusation.
How the hell does he know? His little corporate spies are everywhere. “Are you fucking her, West?”
Rage, pure and incandescent, flares through me. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”
“It is my business when your little games threaten the family name,” he hisses, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.
“The board is already uneasy about your…
unconventional path. A scandal, a student's complaint, a whisper of impropriety… it could jeopardize everything. Your future with the company. Everything.”
He pauses, letting his words sink in. “I have a meeting set up for you next week with Senator Davis. He’s a key player in the upcoming energy bill, a bill that could make or break our next quarter. You need to be sharp. Focused. Not distracted by some… co-ed.”
“She’s not a co-ed,” I correct him, my voice dangerously calm, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Asher freezes. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flicker with genuine surprise, then suspicion. “Your… girlfriend? Since when?”
“Since a few weeks ago,” I lie smoothly, the words forming a new, intricate web of deceit.
“We’ve been keeping it quiet. You know how the university is about TA-student relationships.
But she’s… important to me. Very important.
” I let the words hang in the air, loaded with a double meaning only I understand.
Asher studies me, his eyes piercing, trying to find the lie. He finds none. My conviction is absolute because in my twisted reality, it’s the truth. She is important. She is mine.
“A girlfriend,” he repeats slowly, a thoughtful, calculating look on his face. “And this… relationship… It’s helping you stay ‘focused’?”
“Absolutely,” I affirm. “She’s brilliant. Top of her class. Keeps me grounded. Motivated.” I even manage a convincing sigh, as if discussing the complexities of a genuine relationship. “She understands the pressure I’m under, the expectations. She’s a stabilizing force.”
He seems to consider this, the gears turning in his ruthless mind. A stable, brilliant girlfriend would be an asset. A distraction contained. A potential scandal averted by making it a legitimate (if frowned upon) relationship.
“Fine,” he finally says, the word clipped, grudging. “But I want to meet her. Properly. Soon. And if she proves to be anything less than what you claim… or if she causes any trouble… she’ll be removed. Understood?”
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow. Removed. He wouldn’t hesitate, he wouldn’t care. Kinsley, her brilliance, her chaos, her fragile control, she would be crushed under the weight of his indifference.
A cold, desperate clarity washes over me. I need to protect her not just from herself, but from him. And the only way to do that is to bring her into my orbit, to make her indispensable, to make her a part of my strategy.
I meet Asher’s gaze, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. “Understood. She’s not a liability, Asher. She’s an asset.”
Asher gives me one last, piercing look then turns and strides towards the elevator, his two shadows falling in behind him. The music from the party seems to swell, but to me, it's a distant echo.
I walk back into my room, the door closing behind me with a soft click, shutting out the world. My hands clench into fists, then relax. Asher thinks he’s asserted control. He thinks he’s given me a leash.
He has no idea he just handed me the perfect excuse, the perfect justification. The ideal way to keep Kinsley Fischer exactly where I want her. Close. Essential. Mine.
The game has changed. And I, West Monroe, am about to win.