Chapter 36
The Man Who Owns Me… Owns Everything Else Too
Violet
My ass hurts.
That’s the first coherent thought I manage after the mind-melting, soul-destroying, and absolutely insane thing Asher and I just did.
I shift slightly on the couch, and the dull ache makes me bite my lip, but—fuck—I like it.
My body is wrecked, my muscles useless, but there’s a warmth curling in my stomach that has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the way he made me feel.
He kissed me.
I slapped him.
He liked it.
And now? Now, I’m curled against him, our skin still sticky with sweat, and his heavy arm draped over my waist like he has any right to keep me here. Like we didn’t just fight, break apart, then come back together in the most primal, devastating way possible.
Neither of us moves.
I should. I should be the first to leave.
I should push his arm off, stand up, and pretend this was just sex—dirty, delicious, and bruising sex.
But my body betrays me, sinking deeper into his warmth.
My fingers twitch against his chest, as if they have the right to trace the defined lines there, to claim a little more of him while I can.
He lets out a slow breath. “You’re thinking too much.”
I scoff, shifting again and wincing when the soreness flares up. “My ass hurts.”
His chest shakes with a low chuckle. “Yeah, I bet it does.”
I slap his arm, but it’s weak. “Don’t sound so proud of yourself.”
“Oh, but I am, Kitten.” His fingers press into my hip possessively before he finally moves, sitting up and stretching like he didn’t just rearrange my insides.
I watch him, heart pounding as the intimacy of the moment threatens to crash down on me. He doesn’t look at me right away, just rakes a hand through his hair and exhales. Then his gaze drops to mine, unreadable, and assessing.
And then, like nothing happened, he stands. “I should get to work. I’ll be home all day, handling meetings. Expect people coming and going. Just… don’t stir up trouble, alright?”
That surprises me but also feels right on point for Asher. “What, no post-sex cuddling? No breakfast in bed?”
He smirks. “I don’t cuddle.”
I roll my eyes and push myself up, hissing as another dull ache shoots through me. “Right, of course not. That would require a heart.”
Asher leans over, brushing his knuckles along my jaw before gripping it, forcing me to look at him. His voice drops. “This isn’t a fairytale, Kitten.
My stomach flips violently. Because he’s right. He’s my captor, my tormentor, and the man who has locked me away for weeks. And now, for the first time, he’s working from home. Why? What changed?
Is it because I told him I was lonely last night? Was it because of the sex?
No. No, that’s ridiculous. He’s not here to make me feel better. He’s here because he wants to be, because it suits him, and because he likes to keep me guessing.
I force a scoff, shaking off the ridiculous yearning curling in my chest. “Lucky me.”
His grip tightens for a second before he tugs me forward, capturing my lips in a kiss that steals my breath. It’s rough, possessive, and over too fast, leaving me dizzy. Then, just as suddenly, he lets go and steps back. “You're stuck with me, Kitten.”
I make a face at him. "Oh no, how will I ever recover from missing out on spreadsheets and hostile takeovers?"
He gives me a knowing look before disappearing into his office. The second the door clicks shut, I sag back onto the couch, rubbing my face.
This man is going to kill me. And I think I’d thank him for it.
An hour later, I hear the ding of the private elevator. Asher told me people would be coming for meetings, so I expect stiff suits, briefcases, the scent of cologne, and old money. Instead, the doors slide open, and a man steps out who looks like he could kill someone with his bare hands.
I recognize him. He was at one of Cami’s parties. I just can't quite place him.
Tall, and broad-shouldered, his presence is a weapon in itself.
There’s no slicked-back hair or tailored three-piece suit—just raw, unfiltered danger.
His expression is unreadable, his movements controlled but predatory, and my skin prickles as every survival instinct I have flares to life.
This is not a businessman. This is something else entirely.
He walks past me without hesitation. He knows where he’s going. My skin prickles as I shrink against the wall, heart pounding so hard I’m afraid he’ll hear it.
One firm knock. The sound reverberates through the quiet penthouse.
I press myself against the cold marble, my hands clammy. The door doesn’t open, but that doesn’t seem to matter.
Footsteps. A deep, smooth voice. “Boss.”
Boss?
A chill slides down my spine. My stomach churns, my body caught between fight and flight. This isn’t just business. It’s control. Absolute. Unshakable. A force that makes the air in the room feel thinner, pressing in on my chest.
My breath catches, stomach twisting into knots. Asher isn’t just some rich asshole who dabbles in shady business. He stalked me. He kidnapped me. He locked me in this penthouse. And now someone—someone who does not look like he deals in boardroom takeovers—is calling him Boss.
I swallow hard and press closer to the door, straining to hear. The voices are muffled, but I catch fragments. Choppy, ominous pieces of something bigger. Something worse.
“…drugs… shipments late… profits still down.”
A pause. A heavier voice—Asher’s? It must be.
“…Russian woman… find her.”
I suck in a sharp breath, pulse roaring in my ears. Russian woman?
My skin prickles. Are they talking about her? The woman who set me up? The reason Asher took me? Why now? Why are they looking for her? What does she have to do with all of this?
Another murmur, lower, tense. “…war’s coming… need to move first.”
War? My nails bite into my palms. My body tenses so tightly I might shatter. War against who? And why? What the hell is Asher involved in?
“Maverick…keep eyes on her.”
I freeze.
Her.
Me?
I hold my breath, my chest aching from the effort to stay still, to stay invisible.
“…dangerous…mistake.”
A mistake.
I’m suffocating. My skin is burning with the need to run, to hide, and to do anything but stand here and listen.
The blood drains from my face. I don’t know if they mean me, the woman they’re hunting, or something else entirely, but the air feels too thick, suffocating. My thoughts are spinning, but one thing sticks—Maverick.
I heard his name. That’s what Asher said, wasn’t it? Maverick.
My stomach knots. I’ve heard Cami mention that name before. Maverick. It all starts clicking into place, the way a nightmare solidifies when you wake up gasping. Making my pulse skyrocket. If Maverick works for Asher, if Asher is his boss… then everything Cami thought she knew is a lie.
I need to move before I’m caught.
My legs feel like jelly as I back away from the door, heart hammering against my ribs. Every part of me screams to run, but where? There’s nowhere to go.
I stumble back into the Living room, hands shaking as I grab my phone, my fingers fumbling as I pull up Cami’s contact.
ME: Cami. We need to talk.
I stare at the phone and pray that she answers me quickly. I feel like I am going to burst.
Her message comes in shortly after I let out a breath of annoyance.
CAMI: What happened now? Did he tie you up? Tell me you made him beg, I need this.
Why can’t she be serious for one moment in her damn life? Can’t she tell I am freaking out right now? Oh wait, no she can’t because she isn’t with me and can’t see my face. For fuck sake.
ME: No, shut up, listen.
I give her the cliffnotes of what is currently happening with me.
ME: Elevator just dinged. Someone got off. Big. Dangerous-looking. Not some suit.
Panic send.
ME: He knocked once at Asher’s office here. Said "Boss."
Panic send again.
ME: And then I heard Maverick’s name...
Bubbles pop up like she is typing and then go away. This process repeats for an ungodly amount of time until I bring up the message to type out another one. Then my phone dings with her reply.
CAMI: …Are you fucking kidding me?
Seriously? It took you that fucking long to type five words. I sigh.
ME: If Maverick works for Asher, and Asher is his boss… that means Asher isn’t just some CEO.
Wait. That means…
CAMI: Maverick my contact from The Order?
Her texts come in short bursts one right after the other.
CAMI: Maverick who I’ve been texting for party favors?
CAMI: Maverick who I’ve been FLIRTING with for a YEAR?
CAMI: And you’re telling me he works for Asher??!
ME: Asher isn’t just involved—he’s running the entire Order.
CAMI: What the actual FUCK.
ME: Yeah...
CAMI: That son of a bitch.
ME: Right!?!
Cami: I swear to God, Vi, I don’t know if I want to slap him or—fuck, I don’t even know what this thing between us is.
ME: He’s been lying to you.
CAMI: I am going to KILL HIM.
ME: Please record it if you do.
CAMI: Shut up, I hate you. I need to go scream into a pillow.
Lies.
ME: Scream at Maverick instead.
CAMI: Oh, I will.
I lower my phone. My hands won’t stop shaking. I try to breathe, but the air feels different. He’s locked me in here for weeks, but this? This is the first time I’ve truly felt caged.
Because Asher Redmont isn’t just dangerous. He’s untouchable.