Chapter 20
ASHER
Ispend the morning with my brothers, but my thoughts are plagued with the memory of Grace’s body against mine.
Her calm breathing, the softness of her skin, the way her arms wrapped around me and clung on.
I’ve never spent the night in bed with someone before.
I expected it to be as awkward as she was making it out to be last night.
But then I woke in the middle of the night, listening to her little rambles.
I wasn’t lying to her when I told her she talks in her sleep.
Grace looks shaken when she enters the dining hall for breakfast. She finds me sitting at a table with my brothers and rushes over.
I extend my arm to grab her waist before she reaches her seat, tugging her closer and pulling her down so I can kiss her.
She seems surprised by the action, and then after a second, she relaxes and kisses me back.
“Aw,” Wren crows from the other side of the table. “The happy couple.”
“Get a room.” Dove attempts to sound playful, but annoyance shines through as she joins the table, her Ken doll next to her.
“Did we invite you here, Pigeon?” Wren turns his attention to our sister. “There are plenty of other tables.” He gestures around the room, but Dove just rolls her eyes and sits down.
“How was yoga?” I ask, and Grace’s face changes. She casts a glance at Dove, and then turns back to me, and I can tell before she even speaks that she’s about to lie.
“Good.”
I make a mental note of the lie to address later, but for now, in front of my family, I nod and let it go.
“Welcome everyone!” my mother coos from the front of the room, and all heads turn to her.
These retreats always have the Sanctum’s c-suite, but in addition to us are my mother’s closest followers.
Some would call them friends, or even her Celestia groupies, but like a cult leader, my mother refers to them as her “followers.” A group of women obsessed with Celeste and her spiritual teachings.
Each one will claim that my mother saved their life, and paying to attend this retreat and get one-on-one time with her is the highlight of their year.
“The spring equinox is a time for us to shed the weight of the winter and step out from the darkness and into the light. Each of you should have received your personalized itinerary. I took the time to…”
I zone out as soon as she says she took the time too. I know for a fact that it’s Calla, her blonde-headed assistant who arranged everything. She stands off to the side, clipboard in hand, watching my mother speak with a huge smile on her face. She might be the most devout of my mother’s followers.
Celeste rambles on, but I watch Grace twisting her fingers in her lap as she listens. She has that nervous energy about her again. She was doing so well playing her role before this morning.
Grace is mostly quiet as we eat, seemingly listening intently while Dove goes on and on about her latest brand campaign and how successful it was. But I know something’s up.
After breakfast, we make our way to our first item on our itinerary.
A couple’s treatment isn't something I'd normally partake in, but no isn’t an acceptable answer for my mother. Bonding for all the couples at the retreat is mandatory, because apparently forced intimacy builds authentic connection.
I drum my fingers against my thigh as we're led into a dimly lit room that smells like sandalwood and something floral. Candles flicker along the perimeter, casting dancing shadows across the bamboo walls.
Grace is still acting strange and avoiding telling me why. Is it because she woke up with her body pressed against mine? Or did something happen during yoga? She's got that look, shoulders hunched, eyes distant, like she's retreating somewhere I can't follow.
The guide for our couple’s treatment introduces herself as Dewi, her voice soft and melodic. She explains that the sound bath will "align our energies" and "create resonance between partners." I barely suppress an eye roll.
This is my family's business. Sanctum built its empire on wellness bullshit like this—chakras and vibrations and holistic healing that's really just expensive placebos wrapped in luxury packaging.
But if it keeps my mother off our backs, I'll sit through it.
"Please, face each other," Dewi instructs. "Legs crossed. Palms open on your knees. Eyes closed."
Grace settles across from me, close enough that our knees almost touch. She won't meet my eyes.
I mirror her position, letting my palms rest upward on my thighs. The pose feels ridiculous, performative. But I close my eyes anyway.
Dewi begins, the first note of the singing bowl reverberating through the space. The sound wraps around us, low and resonant, vibrating in my chest.
Grace's breathing is uneven. Shallow. Wrong.
I count to ten. The sound shifts, layers building. My mother probably thinks this is profound. I think it's a waste of—
"What's wrong?"
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. My eyes open, finding Grace's already on me.
Her hazel gaze flickers with something I can't name. "Nothing."
"You're lying again."
"The treatment—"
"Can wait." I lean forward slightly, closing the space between us. "Talk to me."
"Silence is normally recommended during—" I slice my hand through the air, silencing Dewi. The bowls abruptly stop, as does Dewi's sentence.
"Give us a moment."
She doesn't respond, just standing and exiting quickly.
"Tell me what's going on," I demand. "Is it because you woke up with your body wrapped around mine?"
She blushes, but shakes her head.
"Was it yoga?"
She sighs, looking down before meeting my gaze again. "Your mother had a talk with me after."
Fuck. I didn't want her to have alone time with Celeste quite yet. My mother can be difficult in her best of times.
"What did she say?"
Grace's fingers twist together. "It's not important—"
"Grace." My voice comes out sharper than I intended. "What did my mother say to you?"
She flinches slightly at my tone, and I force myself to take a breath.
"She said..." Grace swallows hard. "She said I'm not a good fit for you. That I don't understand your world or what's expected of someone in your position."
The rage that floods through me is immediate and white-hot. Of course Celeste couldn't resist. She probably couldn't wait to corner Grace alone, to pick apart every insecurity she could find.
"She had no right."
"Asher, please." Grace reaches out to me like she's trying to calm a wild animal. "Just ignore it. I don't want to cause problems between you and your family."
"Problems?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Grace, my mother insulting my fiancée is already a problem."
"But we're not really…"
"That's not the point." I run a hand through my hair, the familiar urge to control something, anything, clawing at my chest. "You're my fiancée."
Grace shakes her head frantically. "I can handle your mother. Please don't make this into a thing."
But it already is a thing. Celeste crossed a line, and the fact that Grace is asking me to ignore it, to let my mother's cruelty slide, only makes it worse.
"What else did she say?"
"Nothing important."
"Grace."
Placing her hands on my shoulders, she leans closer. "Truly, Asher. Nothing else. I'm fine."
I exhale a long breath as Grace's touch grounds me. Normally, I hate having someone touch me, but I find hers comforting. I close my eyes, and when I open them, we're staring at each other, something shifting in the air between us.
Her breath catches. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin is warm and glowing from the spa treatments.
"Like you want to..."
"Kiss you?" I finish, my thumb tracing along her jawline. "Because I do."
Her pupils dilate, lips parting slightly. "We said only for appearances."
"Did we?" My voice drops lower as I push up to my knees and move closer. "Because right now, the only person watching is me."
Grace's hands flatten against my chest, but she doesn't push me away. "Asher..."
"Tell me no," I murmur, my forehead touching hers. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
Her breathing quickens, hazel eyes searching mine. The word hovers between us, unspoken.
Instead, she rises onto her knees, closing the distance.
The kiss ignites immediately. Her lips are soft, yielding, tasting faintly of champagne and orange juice. My hands frame her face as she melts against me, all pretense of resistance crumbling.
She gasps against my mouth, and I take advantage, deepening the kiss until she's clinging to my shoulders.
One of my hands grips her hip, and the other finds the back of her neck. She whimpers against my mouth, submitting to my kiss easily. I toy with the hem of her shirt, running my hand underneath the material to feel her soft skin.
"Are we ready to resume—" Dewi's gasp interrupts us. "I'm so—"
"No, it's okay." Grace pushes me off of her gently and goes back to sitting in the position Dewi had us in before. "We're ready."
Dewi glances at me, uncomfortable, but I sit and gesture for her to continue. I don't hear anything she says, though, focused only on Grace, the taste of her still lingering on my lips.
Grace tried her best to convince me that she's fine, but that doesn't stop me from marching over to my parents’ suite the second we're done with our couple’s session.
Luckily, my father is out, so it's just my mother and her little blonde mini-me assistant, Calla.
"Can we have a minute?"
Calla smiles sweetly but looks at Celeste before she gets up, smoothing her hands over her pink dress and leaving us.
My mother moves over to the table and pours two glasses of water, gesturing for me to sit.
For most of my life, I wondered if my mother was for real.
I was used to her dichotomies, the speaking like a hippy while wearing a ten-thousand-dollar outfit.
But I remember watching others around her, trying to figure out if they believed her.
Or if they thought she was one big fraud.
One big fraud that's the face of a multi-billion-dollar company.
"How was your couple’s session? I just love the sound bath therapy that Dewi does. Wasn't it delightful?"
"What did you say to Grace?" I ignore her pleasantries and go right to the real reason I'm here.
She tilts her head and sighs.
"Oh, Asher." I can tell from her tone that she's about to be dismissive.
Something rattles inside me, and I hate the feeling.
I hate that two words from my mother’s lips can send me back to childhood in an instant.
That I feel like a boy sitting in front of her while she waves her hand and tells me I'm being dramatic.
That I need to calm down. That men don't cry.
That it wasn't that bad. I can hear the words before she even says them.
"That girl just isn't the right fit for you." She squeezes a cut lemon into her water and takes a slow sip, watching me while I stew. If I shout, she'll call me emotional. Humorous, really. Considering how much her husband shouted at us throughout my entire childhood.
But I keep my lips sealed and let her continue.
"She's so… meek. Like a little mouse. You need a queen if you want to rule this kingdom, and trust me when I tell you, Grace is not it."
"Mother. Who I date, or choose to marry, is none of your business." I keep the words calm, collected.
She purses her lips and gives me a pointed look. "She's marrying into this family, so it is absolutely my business."
I scoff, and she tsks. "You're angry?"
"No," I say evenly, but she shakes her head, seeing through me. Only this woman can rile me up and push my boundaries and then shame me for having any reaction.
"Why are you so insistent on marrying her so soon? You hired your own wedding planner and set the day for May? Calla could have planned it; she's doing Dove's, after all."
"Calla's busy with Dove's wedding. I thought it'd be easier to have someone else. I hired the best in the city."
"And the date? Why are you set on May? So soon. Why don't we do end of summer? We can have it at the Hamptons house. I know how much you enjoy the gardens."
Coming too close to me, her hand rests on my shoulder. I try not to wince.
That familiar ache spreads through my chest—the hollow recognition of her game.
Her fingers trace gentle circles on my shoulder, voice soft with manufactured concern, but I've learned to read the script beneath.
The warmth only appears when she needs something.
When I'm not useful, those same hands withdraw, leaving nothing but distance. I step away from her, jaw tight.
"We want to get married in the city."
Celeste tilts her head, lips pursing. "The city is beautiful in the summer."
I shake my head, knowing she won’t stop. "I'm not changing the date, Mother."
"That's not what I'm asking for." She feigns surprise, as if she's never told me to change the date. Appalled that I'd think as much.
But that's exactly what she's doing.
Someone doesn't want me to be married before Dove. I peer at her, thinking over the possibilities. Has Celeste sucked Dove back into her orbit? My sister is so desperate for little crumbs of love that she's happy to take anything Mother has to give. No matter how many times she's been hurt.
"Thank you for the suggestions, then." I let my lips twist up into a smile, pretending to believe the lie she's spinning. "But I'm happy with Grace, and we're happy with our choices."
She plasters a fake smile across her face. "Okay, then."
I’m already taking steps toward the door, desperately needing to get away from my mother. I wanted to make sure she left Grace alone, but all I did by coming here was get myself worked up.
"Oh, and Asher." She stops me before I can reach for the handle.
"Yes, Mother?"
"Make sure you sign a good prenup. She seems like a gold digger."
I don't acknowledge her with a response. If only she knew that Grace was absolutely in this for the money and she's already signed a contract.
But she's the furthest thing from a gold digger.