Chapter 27
I need your help
I text Asher when Russel Interiors approves my appointment request for Friday afternoon. He doesn’t reply.
Kate Holland is Kate Russel. Wesley’s interior designer. I made an appointment for Friday at noon, at her studio in Bloomfield.
What do you say to one more investigation?
Still nothing. I partially don’t blame him for still being upset with me after what I said to him, but he was just as hurtful
to me.
Friday morning I apply a coat of lip gloss in the car mirror and adjust my blouse before going into the studio. I tried to
dress as professional as possible in a white button-down blouse, tucked into jeans so you can see the Gucci belt I took from
Adrienne’s closet.
“You didn’t say there was a dress code,” a voice says from down the sidewalk. Asher. He walks up in beige cargo pants and a navy long-sleeve, with a jean jacket over top. He looks like an H&M model.
“You came,” I say, surprised.
“You called,” he sighs.
“I texted actually. Which you could’ve replied to.”
“I could’ve.”
He opens the door to the studio and walks in, not bothering to hold it open for me. It swings back fast, causing me to stumble
in my heels. A bubbly blonde who looks to be in her mid-twenties greets us when we walk in.
“We have an appointment with Kate Holland, I mean Russel. Kate Russel,” I correct myself.
“Right,” she says. “You must be Amy.”
“Amy?” Asher says. I couldn’t have made the appointment with my real name, obviously.
“Yes, that’s me.” I reach out a hand to shake hers.
“Caroline,” she says. Then she turns to Asher to shake his hand as well.
“Vernon,” Asher says, using his grandpa’s name for his fake identity. Vernon and Amy, that’s us.
“Nice to meet you both. Kate had to step out, so I’m going to help you today.”
We follow her back to an office, Kate’s office, I realize by the nameplate on the glass desk.
“So we won’t be meeting with Kate at all? Or will she just be late?” I ask.
“Um, she may be coming back. I actually don’t know.” We sit in the two leather chairs in front of the desk as Caroline hands us both a folder. “These are just a showcase of some of our work, and details on the process. But let’s get to know each other first and find out what you’re looking for.”
“Well, Caroline,” Asher starts, “we just bought a gorgeous beachfront property on Nantucket.”
“Oh wow.” Caroline beams. “Good for you guys!”
“Yeah, well, I can’t take the credit really. It was all thanks to Amy’s OnlyFans account.”
I gasp, choking on my own saliva, but try to turn it into a laugh. “Um, yeah, yes, my OnlyFans account. It’s, like, super
classy though, mostly feet stuff, nothing, like . . . too explicit.”
Asher turns to me. “Babe, don’t be modest, tell her about that shoot last week with the three other guys in it—”
I look at him wide-eyed. “Oh, no, that’s okay, let’s talk about decor!” I turn back toward Caroline.
“Honestly.” Caroline reaches for my hand across the table. “Good for you for doing that.”
Asher interrupts. “I’ll tell you what we’re looking for. First, curtains. We’ll need large ones, and make sure they’re thick
so I don’t have to watch my girlfriend fuck the neighbor out by the pool when they think I’m not home.” I shoot another incredulous
look at Asher.
“He’s kidding.” I laugh.
“And soundproof walls, is that something you can do? We sleep in separate bedrooms because she snores, and it sounds like
someone trying to start up a lawn mower.”
I kick him hard under the table.
“Ah!” He grabs his shin.
“Sorry, leg spasms,” I say, smiling at Caroline.
“Side effect from all of the drinking,” Asher explains. And I can’t believe he’s doing this. Why is he doing this?
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t need to drink if I didn’t have you as a boyfriend.”
Caroline clears her throat uncomfortably. “Why don’t I give you two a minute, and, um, I’ll go see where Kate is!” Caroline
shuffles out of the room and I glare at Asher.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“I’m just having some fun.” He shrugs.
“This is not fun. You’re embarrassing me!”
“Am I?”
“My god.” I rub my temples. “You are so frustrating.”
“You’re the one who asked me to be here.”
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone walk back into the room, a very pregnant someone. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she
says, walking around the desk. “Thought I was having contractions but we’re good!” It’s Kate, and she’s pregnant. She settles
into her chair and looks up at me. Her cheerful expression immediately sours. “You.”
“I just need to talk to you—” I start.
“Get out,” she says, standing back up. “Get out of my office. I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
I stand too. “Just five minutes, please, it’s important.”
“You think I don’t know what this is about? I’ve talked to the police twice now. I have zero involvement with Miles, or you,
or whatever is going on here. I am eight months pregnant and in a happy relationship. You’re delusional if you think I’d even
waste a second of my time thinking of you. Now get out or I’ll call that detective.”
Asher and I walk out of the office in defeat. When we’re back in front of the building Asher says, “I’m starting to think it wasn’t her in the hotel.”
“I mean, Holland was at the gallery with Adrienne. Maybe he put her up to it.” Maybe I was too quick to take her off my suspect
board.
“Maybe,” he says, walking back to his car.
“Wait, you’re just leaving?” I ask after him.
“What else is there to discuss?”
“Maybe how you were a total jerk in there?”
Asher doesn’t respond, only gets in the car and shuts the door, turning on the engine. I stand on the sidewalk with my arms
crossed as he pulls out of the spot and drives away. But this conversation isn’t done.
“We weren’t done talking,” I say, getting out of my car as he’s about to walk into the house.
“When I got in the car and drove away, that meant the conversation was over.” He walks in and I go after him. The lack of
other cars in their driveway tells me none of the other boys are home. It’s just me and him.
“What is your deal lately?” I say. “You’re being so difficult, and don’t even say this is usually how you are because it’s
not. I thought we were becoming friends at the very least.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” Asher turns to go up the stairs.
“And another thing,” I yell, following after him.
“Look out, everyone, there’s another thing!” he shouts from the top of the stairs.
“I think you’re mad at me for being with Wes.” I push open the door to his room, which he shut in my face. “I think you’re jealous!”
“Jealous?” He gives a dry laugh.
“Yeah, I think you are! I think that’s why you’re not speaking to me and bringing around that girl.” I stand in his room with
my arms crossed. He takes off the jacket, tossing it on his bed, and turns back to face me. There’s something in his eyes
that makes me want to push him further. I want to argue with him.
“Look who sounds jealous now.” He walks over to his piano bench, sitting down and taking off his shoes.
“I’m not.” I walk over to him. “I told you from the start that I wanted Wes. Now I have him, so what do I need to be jealous
about?”
Asher stands and now we’re face-to-face. “Then what are you doing in here trying to fight with me? Go fight with your boyfriend.”
Wes isn’t my boyfriend, but the point feels moot.
“I don’t need to fight with him. He would never do the things you do. The way you blatantly embarrassed me in front of that
girl for no reason. You’re arrogant, and selfish,” I say up at him, and I notice the way his eyes darken and how he looks
at my mouth when I call him names. “And you’re jealous.”
He doesn’t say anything, and the scent of his cologne is overwhelming, almost arousing. And the way he’s looking at me right
now . . .
“What if I am?”
My next breath feels caught in my chest. “Then . . . then—”
“Then what?” His eyes hold the same promiscuous gleam as the night in the hotel.
The hotel, and what he did to me there, comes to the forefront of my mind.
My fingers tremble slightly as I bring them up to the buttons on my blouse, undoing them one at a time. I have no explanation
for my actions, as my heart rate picks up.
“What are you doing?” He watches as I finish unbuttoning my shirt and slide it over my shoulders, revealing the semi-see-through
white lace bralette underneath.
“Making things even,” I say.
I get down on my knees and look up at him from under my lashes. What am I doing? He looks down at me and I watch him swallow, before looking over at his open bedroom door. I reach up and start
to unbutton his pants, then pull down the zipper. He doesn’t stop me. He’s already hard when I pull him from his briefs and
stroke him once with my hand. I put the tip to my tongue, and close my mouth around him, swirling my tongue over him as he
lets out a shallow breath. And I’ve committed to this now, I think to myself as I continue.
“Fuck, Sloane, fuck,” he breathes.
I put a hand to his thigh, removing him from my mouth. “Sit back,” I tell him. He does, sitting back on the piano bench, and
I lean over him, slipping my other hand into his briefs while putting him back into my mouth.
“Fuck.” He leans back, hitting the piano keys. He puts his hand in my hair again, yanking it back so I lift my head. “I want
you to look at me,” he says.
So I do.
“Good girl.” And I roll my eyes at the good girl. He huffs a laugh, leaning back. “How do you still have an attitude while doing this?”
“Mm,” I hum in acknowledgment, and his hips buck. I know he’s close, so I work faster. His hand tightens in my hair as his
other arm leans back on the piano.
“Fuck, I’m gonna—” he says, but doesn’t finish—well, he does finish, just not the sentence. I sit back on my heels and wipe
my mouth on my wrist. “Fuck,” he says up to the ceiling before looking back to me, eyes half wild, half disbelieving.
We look at each other like that for a minute, his eyes dipping down to my chest, where he can no doubt see right through the
lace fabric, and I have half a mind to slide off my jeans and fuck him on his piano bench. But I did what I set out to do,
nothing more.
“Now we’re even,” I say, standing up to grab my blouse before leaving.
I almost get to the last button when I walk out onto the porch and Wes is getting out of his car. He’s beaming from ear to
ear and runs right to me.
“He approved it!” he yells. “My dad approved the proposal!” Wes scoops me up and spins me around.
“Oh my god! Wow,” I say. “I’m so happy for you.” He sets me down and goes in for a kiss, but I turn my face. “Cold sore,”
I say quickly. “Sorry, I have a cold sore coming in, I can feel it. I wouldn’t want you to get one.” More so I wouldn’t want
you to have to kiss the mouth that just went down on your cousin. He kisses my flushed cheeks instead, not even wondering
why they’re flushed, or why I’m leaving his house if he wasn’t there. Asher comes down the stairs and sees us on the porch.
“Good news,” Wes says to him. “The resort is all yours, man.”
Asher walks up to the door and leans on the frame. “All mine, huh?” But he’s looking at me as he says it. Wesley claps a hand to his shoulder before walking inside.
“I need to make a few calls, and then I’m making reservations at Lago for tonight to celebrate!” Wes calls out. “Everyone
better be there!” He runs up the stairs to his room, leaving Asher and me alone on the porch.
Asher cocks his head to the side, raising his eyebrows at me. If he’s looking for an explanation for what I did upstairs,
he isn’t going to get one.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” I say, turning to go.
“Dinner?” he says. “You’re not already full?” I turn back around to see him smirking at me.
“That needs to stay—”
“A secret?” Asher finishes for me. “I know how we operate by now, Sawyer.” I go to walk back down the stairs and to my car.
“And by the way,” he calls out, “we’re not even. Far from it.”
But aren’t we? He went down on me, I went down on him, now our unfinished business is finished. I got it out of my system.
Didn’t I?
“We’ll take three bottles of your best champagne,” Wes says to the waiter. “We’re celebrating tonight.” The waiter, in a white
button-down and black bow tie, nods before walking away. Nine of us sit around the rectangular table with ivory linens and
three lit candles down the center.
“I just can’t believe he really is passing on the resort,” Annica whispers to me and Dani while Wes talks to Sam. “I mean,
it was practically set up for him. This bed-and-breakfast thing might not even work out.”
“I think he’s following his heart. That’s what matters,” Dani says.
Annica counters, “But leaving the family business in Asher’s hands so his dad can siphon money through it? That place will
have to shut down in a year, mark my words.”
I look over at Asher where he’s seated on the other end of the table with Erin. He says something that makes her laugh, and
I wish I knew what it was. The waiter brings out the champagne with ice buckets and flutes, pouring us each a glass. Wes stands
for a toast.
“I want to thank you all for helping me make Margot’s Bed-and-Breakfast a reality. I couldn’t have done it without you guys.
Especially you, Sloane,” Wes says, looking over at me, and I smile up sheepishly. “I’d also like to announce that renovations
on the house start in May, so we have the house to ourselves for spring break and I’d like you all to be there, all expenses
paid, of course.”
“Wes!” Dani squeals. “I can’t keep going on these free trips—I feel bad!”
“Me too,” I say.
“Well, I don’t!” Jake says over us. “Cheers to chasing your dreams, bro.” Jake lifts his glass.
“And to Asher too,” Wes says. “You wanted the resort, and you’ve earned it. You always worked harder there than I did, so
I’m glad it’s going to you.”
“Thanks, man. And if it doesn’t work out, you can always come back and be a partner at the resort. What’s mine is yours,”
Asher says. “And what’s yours is mine.” He looks over at me and I quickly look away.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Wes laughs. “Cheers!”
Everyone sips their drinks, but I chug mine.