Chapter 5
ASHER
“You look like hell.” Mike didn’t bother knocking, just strode into my suite past the room service guy who was on his way out like he owned the place. I was used to it. We’d been friends for so long we treated each other more like brothers than anything else.
“Thanks for the insightful commentary,” I replied, adjusting my cufflinks. “I wasn’t aware I’d hired you for your fashion expertise.”
Mike grinned. He knew when to push and when to back off. Right now, he was pushing.
“Nervous about today?” He set his briefcase on the table, thumbing through his phone. “That’s not like you.”
“Not nervous. Just didn’t sleep much.” I straightened my already-straight tie. “I ran into Charlie Winters at the bar downstairs last night.”
Mike’s head snapped up. “The engineer? The one with the—”
“The SEAS project, yes.” I struggled to keep my tone neutral. “It was a coincidence.”
“Hell of a coincidence.” Mike studied me. “How did you end up meeting? Are you sure it wasn’t a setup?” He narrowed his eyes. “If Sterling leaked any of the details he’s in breach of his NDA and we can—”
“She.”
“Excuse me?”
“Charlie Winters is a woman.”
Another assessing look from Mike. The one I’d wanted to avoid, but couldn’t see my way around.
“Interesting.”
I met his eyes in the mirror. “She’s sharp, Mike. I’m much more optimistic about this acquisition now.”
I shrugged into my suit jacket and shot my cuffs, armor on. “She’s driven, focused—I’m really looking forward to her briefing this morning.”
“Her briefing.” There wasn’t a question in his tone, but something made me look up.
“That’s it?”
There it was. I scowled at him. “Don’t read anything into this, Mike. You know better.”
“What? I know better than to assume you’ll be in bed with her tonight?” He snorted. “More like I could make money on it.”
“While I will admit to my fair share of hook ups, you know I never mix business and pleasure. That’s a hard line, and I can’t risk something going wrong with the management of this project.”
“Besides,” I added, straightening my tie again unnecessarily, “attraction is just biology. I’ve never had trouble compartmentalizing. The project is what matters here.”
“If you say so.” Mike’s expression was skeptical.
I didn’t mention how I’d rushed back to my room afterward, pulling up her file again, searching for more images, more information. How I’d spent half the night wondering if she’d follow through on dinner tonight, then the other half asking myself why I cared.
Mike tapped his watch. “It’s time. I’ve got the final papers ready for signing. The money transfers to Sterling at noon once you pull the trigger.”
“Let’s go, then.” I picked up my briefcase, my mind already shifting to the takeover. This was what I’d been working toward for months. Years, really. The satisfaction of taking Richard’s company right out from under him.
Yet as we crossed the street toward Richard’s building—my building now—my thoughts kept drifting back to the bar. To green eyes and a laugh that had caught me completely off guard.
As we walked into HydroCore’s lobby, I pulled out my phone one last time. The text to Charlie sat in my drafts, unsent:
Asher: Something’s come up with work. I need to cancel tonight. I apologize for the short notice.
Professional. Polite. Distant.
My thumb hovered over the send button.
Then I deleted it.
Better to do this in person. After the meeting, I’d find her, explain face-to-face that dinner was off. That we needed to keep things professional. It was the respectful thing to do.
I pocketed my phone and followed Mike to the elevators.
She walked in alongside Richard, her head bent over a folder, wearing dark pants and a matching jacket with a blue blouse. Professional. Focused. Completely unaware of what was about to happen.
I watched the recognition hit. The confusion, then the flash of panic as her gaze darted to Richard, back to me, to Mike’s paperwork.
She put it together in seconds. I saw it happen—the exact moment realization dawned.
Then her expression hardened and her spine straightened, and she looked at me with an anger so controlled it was more devastating than if she’d screamed.
Richard noticed nothing. He never did, when it came to her.
I made the announcement. Took the room through the transition plan. Told them no one was losing their job. I watched people’s faces shift from terror to cautious relief, and I handled their questions the way I always did—calm, measured, revealing nothing I didn’t want to reveal.
But the whole time, I could feel her eyes on me.
When Richard suggested Charlie brief me on SEAS, calling her Charlotte in front of the entire room, she didn’t flinch.
Just launched into the presentation without missing a beat.
Her voice was steady, her command of the material flawless.
She walked us through sensor networks that could predict structural failures before they became catastrophic, emergency evacuation pods with integrated tracking, biodegradable environmental barriers.
If we’d had technology like this back then . . .
My hand tightened on my pen. I forced the thought away.
Her hands moved when she talked about the safety systems, cutting through the air the way they had at the bar. She had no idea she was doing it. I remembered watching her do that last night, thinking I could watch her talk about this work forever.
Now I was her boss. And she knew exactly who I was.
“Thank you, Ms. Winters,” I said when she finished. “Impressive work.”
Her eyes met mine. “Thank you, Mr. Pierce. I look forward to discussing the project in more detail.” A slight emphasis on my name. A reminder that I’d withheld it from her last night.
Point taken.
The room emptied slowly. I noticed Richard’s gaze lingering on Charlie as she gathered her materials, something possessive in his eyes that set off an alarm in the back of my head.
She shifted away from him without looking up—so quick, so practiced, I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so carefully.
She stopped at the door and turned, and what she said to me—You knew—wasn’t a question. I told her the truth. She told me dinner was off. Obviously.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound went through me like a blade.
When the room had cleared except for Mike, Richard, and myself, I turned to face the man whose company I’d just taken.
“The takeover will proceed as planned,” I said, my voice hardening. “Your payout will be transferred at noon. You’ll need to hand in your access badge and leave the premises immediately. All digital access will be revoked at that time.”
Richard’s cold mask slipped, revealing raw anger. “You have no idea what you’re doing, Pierce. This company—”
“Is mine now,” I cut him off. “All of it.”
“You vindictive son-of-a-bitch.” He ground out, his teeth bared like an animal. “You always were a sore loser.”
“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” I slid my hands into my pockets to keep from throttling him. “You fucking killed a man, Richard. Maybe not with a weapon, but nonetheless you were responsible for his death.”
I stepped in closer, feeling Mike on my right, ready to back me up, as always.
“I will tell you now, again, what I told you that night. If I can’t get you in front of a jury, I will be the judge. No one takes what’s mine, no one hurts my friends. Tommy was my friend. Our friend. And his death is on your head.”
His lips were white, his eyes wide, and he vibrated with the anger he was attempting to hold in.
The satisfaction I felt in putting him in this position still didn’t compare to the loss, though.
“You have no options. You’re broke. The board has voted.
It’s done. You just need to decide if you want to slink away poor or rich.
And as per our contract, you will have nothing further to do with this company.
Your non-compete keeps you from starting another company in the same business area for three years. ”
He stood, straightening his jacket with forced dignity. “This isn’t over.”
“It is for you.” I nodded to Mike, who slid a folder across the table. “Sign these release forms, and we’re done.”
Richard scrawled his signature, his hand shaking with suppressed rage. When he stood to leave, he paused at the door.
“You think you’re protecting her,” he said quietly. “But you don’t know Charlie Winters the way I do. She’ll burn through your resources and your patience, and when she’s used up everything you’re willing to give, she’ll move on to the next benefactor. Just like she did with me.”
I didn’t dignify that with a response. Mike didn’t either. We just watched him walk out.
“Get security up here for Sterling’s escort out,” I said. Mike was already on it.
By seven p.m., the adrenaline had burned off and the suite felt like a cage.
The takeover was complete. The money had transferred.
Richard Sterling had been escorted from the building carrying a single box, his access revoked, his parking space already reassigned.
I’d spent the afternoon meeting department heads, reviewing financials, and laying the groundwork for the transition.
Every objective had been met. Every box checked.
I should have felt victorious.
I poured a bourbon and pulled up my laptop, intending to review the operational reports Mike had compiled. Instead I opened Charlie’s personnel file for the third time today. I didn’t do this with other department leads. I noted that and kept scrolling.
Charlotte “Charlie” Winters. MIT graduate, three years.
Ten years at HydroCore, the last three dedicated entirely to SEAS.
No publications—Richard had kept her work proprietary, probably to prevent her from being poached.
A few conference presentations, all highly technical.
No social media presence worth mentioning.
No photos except her employee badge, where she looked serious and focused, hair pulled back just like last night. Just like this morning, when she’d looked at me like I was something she’d scraped off her shoe.
I scrolled further. No patents in her name, despite the fact that the SEAS technology was clearly her creation. Richard had filed everything under HydroCore. Ten years of her life, and she didn’t even legally own her own work.
A brilliant woman kept small. Whether she knew it or not, Richard Sterling had been stealing from her for a decade.
Her salary was competitive—HydroCore paid well for senior engineers. But her address was a one-bedroom in a neighborhood that didn’t match the income, and the car registration on file was a 2006 Corolla with ninety-three thousand miles. I almost scrolled past it. Then I went back.
People who made her salary and drove that car were either very careful with money or sending it somewhere. I filed it without knowing why.
My phone buzzed. Mike.
“You need to see something.” He didn’t bother with hello. “I’m pulling the security footage from HydroCore’s parking garage. The stuff from the last two weeks, before the takeover.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody was interested in Charlie Winters’s car. Last night—Tuesday—someone spent about ten minutes around her Corolla. After midnight. Didn’t take anything, didn’t damage it. Just . . . looked.”
A cold feeling settled in my chest. The night I’d met her at the bar. The night she’d driven home alone in that unreliable piece of shit car.
“Anything else?”
“Two other incidents in the last month. Same pattern—someone near her vehicle after hours. Different person, or the same one in different clothes. Camera angle’s bad, I can’t get a clear face. Could be Richard’s people. Could be something else.”
“Flag it. Get someone on it. I want to know who and why.”
“Already on it.” A pause. “Ash. She doesn’t know about this.”
“I know.” And I couldn’t tell her. Not now.
Not after this morning, when she’d looked at me and said “You knew” like it was the worst thing anyone had ever done to her.
If I told her someone was surveilling her car, she’d think it was me.
Or she’d think I was using it to manipulate her into trusting me.
“Keep it between us for now,” I said. “But I want eyes on that parking garage every night.”
“Copy that.”
I hung up and sat in the dark for a long time.
The dinner reservation was still on the books. Eight o’clock at Nobu, a table I’d had Cheryl secure that morning before everything went sideways. Before Charlie Winters had stood in a boardroom and looked at me like I’d betrayed her.
Because I had.
I picked up the phone and called the restaurant. Canceled the reservation. The hostess was polite about it. These things happen, she said.
Yes. They do.
I closed the laptop and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. The suite was exactly as beautiful as it had been last night—the white furniture, the view, the Cristal on ice that Cheryl always arranged. All that luxury, and no one to enjoy it with.
The same thought I’d had on the plane. But tonight it hit differently. Tonight, there had been someone. For about twelve hours, there had been a dinner on the books and a woman with green eyes who’d agreed to meet me.
And I’d blown it. Not because I’d wanted to, but because I’d chosen the company over the connection. The same choice I always made. The same pattern.
Whatever was happening between Charlie Winters and me needed to be shut down before it even began.
I finished the bourbon, turned off the lights, and didn’t sleep.