Chapter 9
Asher
Istep out of the elevator and move toward the executive parking garage.
Meetings outside of the office have never sat well with me, and this one, that’s actually downtown, is getting annoying. It has been moved forward twice this morning because, apparently, no one in corporate finance knows how to make decisions without wasting everyone else’s time first.
Normally, I’d tolerate it.
Today, my patience is nonexistent. Mostly because I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Roxanne in my bed again.
Felt her wrapped around me. Then immediately after, I heard her voice turn cold again.
“You’re offering to buy me.”
Damn!
The entire situation has been irking me for two straight days now. Which is exactly why seeing Hudson’s car pull into the garage immediately worsens my mood.
I barely pay attention at first while checking something on my phone. Then the passenger door opens, and Roxanne steps out.
Everything inside me goes still.
She’s laughing softly at something Hudson says while gathering her coat around herself against the wind drifting through the garage entrance.
The sound rumbles low in my chest. It's oddly satisfying to hear, but the fact that it's not directed at me and that Hudson is the one behind that smile makes my blood boil.
That smile she’s giving him, she has never used that for me.
I remember Hudson’s comment about asking her out, and instantly, my hands balled into fists. A dark pulse of irritation moves through my chest instantly.
Hudson rounds the car and says something else that makes her smile again.
My jaw tightens before I can stop it.
Interesting.
For someone who always looks like she’s holding back the urge to murder me, she sure is smiling a lot.
The timing alone feels deliberate. She leaves my bed, and within days, she’s suddenly spending lunch breaks alone with another man?
Another man who openly admitted he wants her?
Hold on. Is this jealousy?
The realization annoys me immediately.
I don’t do jealousy. It’s irrational and definitely not an emotion a man like me should possess. Yet all I can think about is Hudson touching her, and I want to break his hands.
I nearly stop on my tracks, but I force myself to keep walking.
Fucking hell! What exactly did this woman do to my brain?
Neither of them notices me immediately. Which gives me several unfortunate seconds to watch them together.
Roxanne says something while tucking blonde hair behind her ear, and Hudson’s attention fixes on her too easily. The familiarity irritates me more than it should.
Then finally, her eyes lift and lock onto mine. The smile disappears from her face instantly. The shift is subtle enough that most people probably wouldn’t notice it.
Something sharp flickers through her expression before she smooths it away completely.
“Mr. Sterling,” Hudson says casually once he notices me.
I nod tersely. My gaze remains fixed on Roxanne. “What’s going on?”
The question comes out colder than intended.
Hudson doesn’t seem bothered by it. “I took Ms. Sinclair to meet someone.”
“Someone? Who??” I ask before I can stop myself.
Roxanne’s spine straightens subtly. “It’s personal.”
Translation: none of your business.
The irritation already simmering beneath my skin worsens instantly. Of course, she won’t tell me.
Not when she’s perfectly comfortable going around with Hudson. Who did he take her to meet? Is he already introducing her to friends and family?
Unbelievable. They’ve gotten that far.
“I see.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, as if she hears the accusation buried beneath the words. Hudson glances between us, probably sensing tension.
“Well,” he says lightly, “I’ll see you upstairs, Ms. Sinclair.”
Roxanne nods politely. “Thank you again, Mr. Hudson.”
Mr. Hudson.
The formal title should not satisfy me as much as it does.
Hudson heads toward the elevators first, leaving the two of us standing several feet apart in the garage. Silence stretches heavily between us, then Roxanne finally exhales softly.
“You’re staring.”
“You’re avoiding questions.”
Her expression cools immediately. “Because my life isn’t your concern.”
Funny.
I almost believed that for about twelve hours after she walked out of my hotel suite. Then I spent the entire weekend thinking about her anyway. Thinking about whether she regretted sleeping with me.
And wondering if she was already in another man’s bed afterward. Apparently, I’ve lost my mind.
“You seemed comfortable with Hudson.”
The second the words leave my mouth, annoyance flashes across her face.
“Is that really your concern right now?”
“You left work during business hours with the Vice-President.”
“During lunch break.”
“To meet someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She laughs softly, then, however, there’s no hint of amusement on her face. For the first time, I notice the strain in my eyes. She looks tired.
“Why do you care?”
Because the idea of her with another man makes something territorial and irrational wake up inside me.
Because every time she pulls away from me, I want to drag her back.
I consider saying all these and appearing crazy, but I manage to stop myself. Instead, I say coldly, “You work for this company.”
“And there it is.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you only ask questions when you think you’re entitled to answers.”
Before I can respond, she steps past me toward the elevator. The scent of vanilla follows her again, lingering longer in my senses.
By evening, I’m in an even worse mood. This time, it’s because my private investigator finally sent over the preliminary report regarding Roxanne’s financial situation.
The contents make absolutely no sense. I stare at the file spread across my desk with growing disbelief.
An outstanding debt of almost four million dollars to Blackthorne Financial Group. The numbers alone are enough to raise suspicion.
How the hell does someone accumulate this much debt?
Roxanne likes expensive things, yes. But she’s never struck me as reckless. Everything about her is controlled.
And according to the report, some of these financial movements don’t even align with her income timeline.
Which means either: A. she’s lying about far more than I realized, or B. something else is happening.
I think back again to the parking garage. The exhaustion in her face suddenly makes more sense. No one would be that cool with having such debts hanging over them.
My fingers tap rhythmically against the desk as another thought hits.
Hudson. Is that why they went out together at lunch?
The idea of Roxanne running to other men for help again sends irritation crawling back beneath my skin instantly. Before I can reconsider it, I pick up the office phone and dial the HR manager.
“Transfer Ms. Sinclair back to my office immediately.”
There’s a brief stunned silence from her before she asks, “Immediately, sir?”
“Yes.”
I hang up before they ask more questions. Only afterward do I realize how irrational the decision actually is. I already moved her away once, specifically to avoid this situation.
Now I’m dragging her back because another man drove her to lunch. I’m really losing my mind. Yet somehow, the thought of leaving her with Hudson feels worse.
Roxanne arrives at my office thirty-seven minutes later, looking furious.
The second the doors close behind her, she folds her arms beneath her chest and says flatly, “Are you serious?”
I lean back in my chair calmly. “Sit down.”
“No.”
Interesting.
Most employees fear me enough to obey immediately. Roxanne looks ready to commit homicide.
“You can’t keep passing me around whenever it’s convenient for you,” she snaps.
My gaze drifts over her slowly before I can stop it. She looks perfectly polished despite the anger burning in her eyes.
Damn!
I remember peeling her clothes off her body too vividly. The memory immediately darkens my mood further.
“Your reassignment has already been processed.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“No?” I ask coolly. “Then what is?”
“You moved me once because we almost slept together.”
Roxanne has always been dangerous when angry because she says things most people avoid.
“And now that we’ve actually slept together, I’m suddenly back.” Her eyes narrow. “You got bored?”
That odd sensation twists unpleasantly inside my chest again. “Did you move on to another man’s bed because of your debt?”
The words land exactly how intended. Roxanne stiffens as her eyes widen ever so slightly.
“What did you just say?”
I hold her gaze evenly. “I know about the financial problems.”
“You investigated me?” She snaps.
“I had reason to.”
“No,” she says quietly. “You had audacity.”
I ignore that.
“How much do you owe?”
I already know how much it is, but I need to hear it from her to see if she knows the severity of the situation she’s in. This isn’t child’s play. Most millionaires and billionaires alike avoid dealing with Blackthorne. Yet she boldly got involved with them.
“That’s none of your business.”
“It becomes my business when my employee is involved with questionable lenders.”
Her laugh is sharp now but bitter underneath. That bitterness, no matter how little, is what my mind hangs on to.
“Employee,” she repeats bitterly. “Interesting choice of words considering you slept with me two days ago.”
I stand slowly from behind the desk and round the desk toward her. Roxanne gasps as she takes a quick step away from me.
“You’re avoiding the question,” I say.
“And you’re acting insane.”
I step closer. I slide my hand over her hair, twirling a silky strand in between my fingers. “Did you leave my bed for Hudson because he offered help?”
Roxanne stares at me like she genuinely cannot believe what she’s hearing. Her lips tighten as she shoots me a glare.
“You really think that little of me.”
Something about the quiet hurt beneath the anger unsettles me unexpectedly. I pause, my hand hovering above her.
“Then tell me, how did you end up with that amount of debt if Tristan was funding your lifestyle? What more could you want?”
That seems to make things even worse. Roxanne’s expression changes instantly.
“Tristan never funded my lifestyle. And I’m in this debt because of him!” She snaps, jerking her hand out of my hold. “He’s the one who loaned the money.”
I raise a brow. “No.”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.” I shake my head.
Her eyes flash violently now. “Of course you’d say that.”
“Tristan has money.”
“Yet it doesn’t seem to ever be enough.”
I study her carefully now because suddenly pieces that used to fit begin shifting strangely into place.
Tristan might have his issues, but he’s not a complete asshole who would do that to a woman he claimed to love. From the way he used to dote on Roxanne, would he do that to her?
It only makes more sense that Roxanne bought more than she could afford and kept accumulating debt. Her love for luxury must have gotten her to the point of no return.
“You expect me to believe Tristan secretly borrowed money under your identity?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he could.”
“And you didn’t notice?”
“I trusted him.”
For a second, neither of us speaks. Then Roxanne shakes her head like she’s exhausted by the entire conversation.
“You know what? Forget it.” Her voice cools again. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to convince you I’m not some manipulative gold-digger.” Her eyes lock onto mine sharply. “You decided who I was years ago, Asher. You’ve never once bothered seeing anything else.”
Hearing those words makes my heart react oddly. The worst part is I’m suddenly no longer entirely sure she’s wrong.