5. Asher
FIVE
ASHER
I manage to sit through all of lunch with Holt without another mention of Charleigh. I guess my compromise of rethinking working with her was enough to suppress his need to pry any further.
Although, I was lying. The way she has my mind all jumbled, there’s no conceivable way we can work together without letting the past get in the way.
With my stomach full of lunch and unsettled thoughts of Charleigh, I have my web browser open again, with her name typed into the search bar, when an email comes through. My computer dings, and I open the email as soon as I see Allen Simon’s name. A long-time client of mine, Allen has bought several of my listings. I nearly leaped out of my chair when he emailed me saying he was in the market again, looking to buy an apartment building out in Brooklyn. With only a handful of locations, I sent them over for him to consider and have yet to hear back. Until now.
But my vision fades, and my blood pressure rises as I read the text.
“Janette!” I yell .
Within seconds, my assistant quickly shuffles into my office, pushing through the large wooden door. “Yes, Mr. Egan?” she asks on a breath.
“I just received an email from Allen Simon.” I shoot her a glare over my computer. “Did he try calling?”
She furrows her brow. “No, sir.”
“What the fuck?” I seethe, sitting back in my leather chair as I run a frustrated hand through my hair.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” Janette asks.
I keep my eyes trained on the email. This day has turned into an absolute dumpster fire.
“Allen just emailed me to tell me he’s found a better property with Cyrus Temper, and he’s going to close on it next week. Faster than I was able to secure for him with the listings I proposed.”
“Oh.” It’s the only word to fall from Janette’s mouth before her expression slips into a frown. Her eyes shift to the side, avoiding my stare.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Well,” Janette says quietly, her eyes making their way back to me. “On my lunch break, I overheard one of the secretaries for Cyrus Temper talking about Mr. Simon. She mentioned that Mr. Temper told Allen Simon you were increasing your realtor fee and commission by more than fifty percent.”
Heat blazes from my neck to my ears. “What the fuck?” I seethe, standing from my chair. “Did you tell her that was wrong?”
“Of course, I did, but she didn’t believe me,” Janette explains. “I doubt she has little sway persuading Cyrus with the truth since she’s just his secretary.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, raking my fingers through my hair before I slide my palm down my face. “I wish you’d told me this before.”
The idea of losing a client to Cyrus has my anger at an all- time high. Panic sets in, and maybe it’s because I can’t stand losing. I can’t stand the thought of returning to the person who lived out of a fifteen-foot trailer with nothing but the hole-laced shirt on his back.
Cyrus threatens everything I’ve built.
“I’m sorry,” Janette apologizes. “I should have told you.”
“It’s fine,” I mutter, waving her off. “I’ll figure it out.”
She gives me a sympathetic look before turning on her heel and leaving me in the heavy silence of my office.
I’m staring out my window and out at the city. Every day, it looks the same, yet every day is different—much like my job. I didn’t get to where I am now by letting clients slip through my fingers. Especially when it comes to competition such as Cyrus Temper.
He’s well regarded in the real estate world, and one of the top executives in New York. He’s old enough to be my father. Hell, probably even my grandpa. And I know Cyrus doesn’t back down from a client, but neither do I. Liquid heat courses through my veins.
With fear of losing Allen setting in, I dial his number, hoping to straighten out any misinformation. The last thing I need is losing out on a multi-million-dollar deal because Cyrus can’t keep his greedy fucking mouth shut from all the lies he spews. When Allen doesn’t answer, I leave him a message to call me back.
Nothing is a done deal until he signs a contract.
I grab my suit jacket from the back of my chair and stride out of my office, heading straight for the elevators, knowing full well where Cyrus’s main office is located. If I can’t talk with Allen, I’ll go straight to the source.
“I’ll be back in a few,” I call out to Janette over my shoulder as I stride past her.” Cancel all my meetings for the rest of the afternoon. ”
“Of course,” she answers.
Once inside the elevator, I press the button for the top floor. The ride isn’t as long as it would be if I were going down to the main lobby. Soon enough, the shiny metal doors slide open effortlessly, then suddenly, I find myself standing in the front lobby of Cyrus’s office, where every surface is made of white marble. I straighten my tie and walk up to the desk. The reception area looks so different from the one on my floor, which is covered in hardwood, with tall, glass walls separating the offices. This room is white—stark white.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me.”
“How may I help you?” the man behind the desk asks. The name Travis is etched into the gold name tag pinned to his chest. His smile is just as white as the floor and walls of this place.
“Yes, I’m Asher Egan. I was hoping to see Mr. Temper. Is he available?”
“I’m sorry, he’s with a client at the moment. Would you like to leave him a message or set an appointment to see him?”
“Shit.” I rest my hands on my hips. “No, that’s okay. Thanks.” I scratch the light scruff on my chin and spin on my heel. I may lose a client to Cyrus Temper after all. And not just any client, but one I’ve worked with in the past. Losing Allen is personal and cuts deep to my core.
I’m tempted to interrogate the secretary by demanding to know which client Cyrus is with, but I bite my tongue and concede instead. For now.
Reluctantly, I head back to the elevators, only to screech to a halt when I hear a familiar voice behind me. It slides down the back of my neck like smooth velvet, warming me in places that have frozen over.
“Have a nice day, Travis. It was nice meeting you.” Her heels click across the marble floor, the sound growing louder as she approaches the elevators.
I keep my back turned to her and look up to see the indicator for the elevator light switch on.
“Asher?”
I twist my head to the side, finding her wide, hazel eyes staring back at me. The expression on her face is almost an exact copy of the one she had the other night at the bar, filled with surprise. Only this time, Charleigh’s dressed a bit more modestly. Her skirt isn’t as short as the one she wore the night we were supposed to meet. This time, she’s wearing a dress, minus the coat. Every inch of her silhouette is on full display, showcasing the curves I haven’t been able to kick from my mind. Although the hem of her dress stops just above her knees, the dark purple fabric clings to her body. My gaze travels down to her feet. The image that remained in my mind after I left Connecticut was of the younger version of Charleigh. This Charleigh is full woman. Her hair is a little longer now, her brown waves cascading down below her shoulders. Charleigh’s always had curves in her hips and all the places that drive me wild, but somehow, in the past ten years, they’ve become even more accentuated.
She catches me staring at her and crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts up. Her cleavage is exaggerated, pressing out of the V-cut neckline of her dress.
“Asher,” she says again, straightening her back.
“What are you doing here?” I find her eyes.
“I could ask you the same.”
I give her an amused grin. “I asked first.”
Her left shoulder drops. “You’ve always liked to play games.”
Okay. Not sure what that’s supposed to mean .
Her comment adds salt to the wound of possibly losing Allen to Cyrus.
“I guess I’ll play your little game,” she mutters. My eyes fall to her tongue slipping between her lips to sweep across her pink-glossed mouth. She tosses me a smug grin. “I’m hiring Cyrus to help me find a new location for my business.”
The elevator doors slide open, and she glides inside, leaving me to follow and stand beside her before watching the doors close us in. I don’t press the button for my floor. Instead, I let Charleigh select the first floor. I clench my hands inside my pockets, and I’m not sure why. It’s as if every nerve in my body is on alert around her, every feeling heightened. She knows how to get under my skin, but the sensation it gives me has me wanting to feel it a little longer. Back when we were teenagers, she was the addiction I couldn’t break. Seeing her now, I’m realizing she can make that a possibility once again. I already feel it seeping its way into my bones. It’s a dangerous feeling—one I’ve fought to keep away for nearly a decade.
Now I’m stuck inside this small ass elevator with her. My dick twitches, and heat pools in my lower belly from watching the fabric of her skirt stretch and strain around her full, round ass. Her floral scent surrounds me, and her body heat seems to radiate off the metal walls. It’s suffocating.
I lean against the wall, putting as much distance as possible between us.
“You’re really hiring him?” I choke out.
“Is that so hard to believe?” She arches an eyebrow, mimicking my stance on the opposite wall. “I needed a realtor for my business, and I found Cyrus. He has a great track record of helping business owners like me. He’s been around for decades, and he actually wants to help me, unlike other real estate executives I’ve previously met.”
Her usual gorgeous, round eyes narrow into two thin slits .
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her small dig at me. Cyrus has already sunk his money-hungry claws into her. Just like Allen. Fuck.
I shrug. “It isn’t hard to believe. I just hope Cyrus doesn’t try to rip you off.” I stare up at the ceiling and rock back on my heels. Teasing her used to be a part of who we were. Now, I wonder if I’m just coming off as an arrogant asshole.
By the expression on Charleigh’s face, she isn’t surprised.
“Why did you lie?” she asks.
“Lie about what?” I ask, confused.
She clenches one hand into a fist and tightens the other on the handle of the purse by her side. “I’m talking about knowing Holt. You said you didn’t know him, but you were lying.”
“What makes you so sure I was lying? What would I gain from that?” I bite the inside of my cheek. The air inside the elevator swells as Charleigh’s shoulders rise. The ends of her dark hair lift with the motion.
“Holt’s sister, Julianna, happens to be my best friend. Plus, you’re a terrible liar.” She shifts her gaze back to the doors, refusing to face me now as she mutters under her breath, “You always have been.”
Ouch. Why did that last jab hurt more than it should?
“Fine. I lied. Holt and I have been friends since college.”
She scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “I knew it. What are the odds?” She looks over her shoulder. “What are the odds of both our best friends being siblings, yet they never mentioned us to each other?”
“Hmm. Seems the Capuletis keep a whole closet stuffed with secrets.”
“Possibly.” She quickly spins on her heel, turning her whole body toward me as she crosses her arms over her chest and cuts me a glare. “But how do you think your friend feels knowing you lied about not knowing him? ”
“How do you think Julianna feels knowing you never told her about me?” I bite back.
The anger in Charleigh’s face transforms to one of hurt. The bottoms of her eyes line with liquid, and the colors in them change like a kaleidoscope. Her full lips thin as she inhales a hot breath.
I step forward, closing the space between us. It’s the closest I’ve been to her in ten years.
She steps backward, her spine hitting the wall behind her. Her scent fills the air around us; a mixture of vanilla and flowers. Even with her heels, the top of her head still doesn’t meet my chin. I’m hovering over her, looking down at her as she tips her chin up. I take a quick glance at how many floors we still have to go—only ten more left—and her whole body turns rigid with mine pressed against hers.
“Yeah,” I practically growl. “Something tells me that if she would have told you it was me you were meeting, you wouldn’t have shown up. She didn’t know she was setting you up with me, did she?”
Her bottom lip quivers as she inhales a shaky breath. Her face is close to mine. Too close, but she doesn’t back down.
“I don’t think you want to start comparing relationships and trust.”
“What are you implying?” I tighten my jaw, the air swelling once again. Charleigh’s expression is full of tension. I can’t decide what has her more annoyed: my lie to Holt or the fact I didn’t agree to take her on as a client, leaving her to resort to working with Cyrus Temper.
She presses her lips together and swallows, her attention dancing between my mouth and my eyes. She doesn’t answer my question.
“What bothers you more, Charleigh?” I ask. “The fact I didn’t want to work with you, or that you think I’m a shit friend? Because it seems to me it might be both.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, pulling it between her perfect teeth.
Fuck.
Suddenly, I’m remembering how those lips were once mine to kiss whenever I wanted to.
But things are different now. Vastly different.
Standing this close to her is a mistake. My cock swells, and I have to consciously tell myself this is a bad idea. The elevator can’t reach the lobby soon enough.
I’m drawn to Charleigh as quickly and as strongly as the first time I spotted her watching me from beneath her favorite tree.
Despite my interrogation, she remains silent, so I continue. “And don’t pretend to be shocked by my question. We both know the truth behind how you really feel about me.”
Her bottom lip pops out from between her teeth, the flesh pink from the pressure she placed there. “Wow.” The word slowly seeps out of her mouth. Her eyes narrow, once again, and it’s as if she’s pierced me straight in the chest. “How arrogant you must be to feel hurt for the way I’m treating you now. Doesn’t feel good, does it, Asher? Maybe I’m giving you a dose of your own medicine.”
I’ve struck a nerve. Fury and anger have returned to her gaze.
“Ten years. Ten years of dead silence,” she forces out. “Silence you chose. So, don’t act like you’re the victim here. You were the one who left. And the thing is, I moved on and made my choices.”
It took nearly ten years to get Charleigh out of my mind. The pain of what happened, her forcing me to make the decision to leave, is still fresh, even after all this time. We both lost something the night I left, but in a way, I feel I lost more than Charleigh did: my mother and Charleigh.
I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us, but the differences between her and me couldn’t be more apparent now.
The elevator finally stops. An ear-piercing ding fills the space between us before the doors slide open. I’m still standing in front of Charleigh, pressing her body against the wall for everyone to see.
Pinning me with a sharp glare, she shoves her hands to my chest and quickly walks out. I hold my breath, knowing I should let her go… but like the fool I’ve always been, I don’t.
Charleigh’s feet have already carried her out of the main lobby by the time I catch up to her. She pushes against the large, glass door with force and stands on the curb, waiting for a cab. Clearly ignoring me, she raises her hand in the air.
I stare at her for several seconds before she finally speaks again. “What more do you want from me, Asher? At this point, I think it’s best if we don’t interact with each other.”
I keep staring at her, watching her hail a cab. There isn’t one for at least another block, but she keeps her hand raised anyway.
“The city really grew on you, didn’t it?” I ask quietly.
My question softens her anger. She turns her head, still refusing to lower her hand. The wind blows her hair across her face—a strand getting caught in the corner of her mouth. I itch to reach out and push it back.
“I’m happy,” she tells me. “It was always my dream to live here. It was yours once, too, you know. But I guess we both made it. Just not in the way we envisioned.”
A pit forms in the center of my chest. I don’t like how Charleigh’s comments keep finding their way into some deep, hidden part of myself I buried long ago. It’s effortless to her. It’s effortless for her to tear me apart.
“I’ m not the same person I was back then.”
“No, you definitely aren’t. I’m learning that.” She swallows, her eyes flicking back to the building behind us before her gaze swings back to mine. “But neither am I, so…”
The pit in my stomach transforms into a feeling I’m unfamiliar with. I want to change the subject. “Are you sure Cyrus is the right person to help you?”
Her shoulder falls as a cab pulls up alongside us both. She lowers her arm and opens the door, clearly exhausted by our conversation. “What do you care, Asher? You clearly don’t want to help me, and my business needs this, so I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I get where I need to go—with or without your help.” She glances up at the building again, all the way to the top, where Cyrus’s office is. “If Cyrus is that person, so be it.”
“Cyrus is a shark in this real estate game. Are you sure you want to risk swimming in those waters?”
Business. It’s easier to talk to Charleigh when it’s about business.
“He’s my only shot…” Her sentence trails off. She shrugs her shoulders and moves to sit in the cab. “What choice do I have?”
I step forward, catching the door before she slams it shut. My fingers grip the top. She sits inside; her chin tipped up as she looks at me.
“Don’t hire him. Let me help you find a place.” The offer leaves my mouth before I’ve even comprehended what I’m saying. Call it desperation. Call it ego. Either way, I know money isn’t the only force pulling me to Charleigh. There’s something more. Something I can’t, won’t, acknowledge just yet.
“What?” she asks. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Come on,” I tell her. At first, I’m not entirely sure why I’m offering to work with her. I’ve been trying to stay away from Charleigh, but then Allen Simon quickly comes to mind. The potential of Allen falling through leaves me desperate. I can’t lose the chance to work with Charleigh, either. “I can find you a better place than that asshole upstairs.”
“Asshole?” She laughs. “He didn’t seem so bad to me.”
“Yeah… But that’s what you thought about me when we first met.”
My comment clearly hits at another place deep inside her. Her mouth twitches, and her smile fades, the memory of me swiftly breaking her heart clear as fucking day. Silence swells between us before she asks, “Why would you want to help me?”
I avoid her stare, looking out at the traffic-riddled street before looking at her again. “Because I can’t lose to someone like Cyrus.”
“Wrong answer.” My hand falls from the door as Charleigh pulls it toward her, closing it. “That was a test question, and you failed.”
“You’re joking?”
“Nope.” Once she closes the door, she rolls down the window and dips her head, looking up at me through the opening. “See? You aren’t the same Asher I used to know.”
When the cab pulls away, I can’t figure out what bothers me more: losing Charleigh to Cyrus, or Charleigh’s constant jabs about what a horrible person I’ve become.
Deep down, I know Charleigh’s feelings toward me have merit.
I have become an asshole.