Chapter 51
ASHER
"You look like shit," Gabe says as I slide into the booth next to him at Haven.
I feel like shit.
My house is empty without Grace. Whenever I’m home, all I can do is think about her. I see her there, images of her at the kitchen counter, on my couch, in my shower or my bed. It’s like she’s haunting me.
So instead, I spend all my time at the office, unwinding all of the things my father has been up to. I spend too much time there, more than I did even before Grace. And I hate it there as well. Every thread I unwind makes my stomach churn and my heart ache.
This life I dreamt up for myself is nothing like I hoped it’d be.
I thought being CEO of Sanctum would make me happy.
That I’d have all the power and control I’d been craving.
But in reality, I have none of that. My father is still more respected and feared than me.
It’s still only an interim position. And honestly, the more I find out of my father’s misdeeds, what he did to Grace and probably many others, the less I even want to be a part of this company.
All of the routines that have kept me functioning as my best self have gone out the window in the last two months as I’ve sunk lower and lower into my self-loathing.
I even ate McDonald’s, sitting on the couch the same way Grace does and binging the greasy fast food. It didn't help. Didn't ease the ache that radiates through my body.
I did the right thing. I repeat the words like a mantra, hoping if I say them enough, I'll start to believe them, but it hasn't happened yet. I set her free, broke her association with my family. And that’s for the better. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, days of scruff lingering there.
"Charming," I deadpan, even though I know my brother is right. "Where's Wren?"
"Dealing with something." Gabe waves his hand at the club behind him, but his eyes are on me. "When's the last time you slept?"
"I sleep."
We're interrupted by a waitress wearing the same black dress that Grace was the night I met her. She smiles demurely as she slides two glasses of Macallan in front of us.
I stare down into the pool of amber liquid. The same drink that Grace split on me all those months ago. For some reason, I want to go back to that moment, stand up, and walk away. If I never offered her the deal, maybe my chest wouldn't ache the way it does right now.
"Fuck," I groan as the montage of memories flashes through my mind. I linger on the time I brought her here. Having a drink in this same area before taking her up to my room. She was so perfect, tied to the bed, taking everything I had to give her.
"Why are we meeting here?" I ask through clenched teeth.
"Because both my brothers have a thing for my waitresses," Wren answers casually as he slides into the booth on Gabe's other side.
I look at my older brother, eyebrows lifting as I wait for an explanation. It doesn't come verbally, but I follow his line of sight, landing on a curvy purple-haired woman in a short skirt and corset bodice.
Kacey.
I drop my head in my hands, not wanting Grace's best friend to see me. How could I forget she worked here?
"Not her," I grumble.
"I'm not even interested in her," Gabe says, as if it's a wild notion.
"Mmhmm." Wren leans back, a grin on his face as he looks between my brother and Kacey. "So she's not why you're here every night, then?"
Gabe shoots him a look that reads shut the fuck up. "That's not why I wanted us to meet here."
"Then get on with it," I say. "I want to get out of here."
"Because you're so busy?" Wren questions sarcastically.
"Enough." Gabe slices his hand through the air, attempting to make our brother stop with his little comments. Not that it will work. Wren's never shut up before.
"Mr. Caine." A blonde woman, the same one that fired Grace, slides up to our table. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem in room three."
"Get Nolan." My brother looks at the woman like she's nothing more than an annoyance, one he has no tolerance for.
She wrings her fingers, and it's amusing to see her look so small under my brother’s gaze when she had no nervousness while firing Grace.
Part of me hates her for it. If she wouldn't have fired Grace, maybe I would have never made her the offer and then I wouldn't be sitting here, a shell of myself.
Maybe then I could go back to that version of me that didn’t hate himself. The one who was still so naive, thinking he had it all figured out.
But I can’t rewrite the past, and I don’t want to unlearn what I know now.
"It's his night off," she tells my younger brother.
With a grunt, Wren stands up from the table. "Duty calls," he says to us, mock saluting and then following the woman to whatever room had the issue.
Gabe and I sit in silence for a moment before he opens his mouth. "Is this where you met her?" he asks, as if the carefully crafted facade I used to wear like armor has now melted away and everyone can just see my thoughts.
This conversation feels like treading through deep water.
I could be seconds away from getting swallowed and pulled under.
I’m getting better at talking to Gabe, even if something inside me still goes on high alert any time I’m remotely vulnerable with my siblings.
But I’m learning that Gabe has changed in the years he’s been gone, and while I do know he’s up to something, even if I don’t have all the details, I also strangely trust that we’re on the same side.
"Yes," I exhale, telling him the truth.
Gabe nods, his fingers wrapped around the glass of amber liquid.
"You think I'm a terrible person?" I don't know why I ask the question because I'm not sure I want to know the answer. My brother has always had stronger morals than me; he probably thinks paying someone to marry me just so I can inherit the company is a low thing to do.
These days, I might agree with him.
But Gabe shrugs. "You've always been willing to do anything to get what you want, Ash." He looks at me, making eye contact. "Something I admire about you, honestly."
I huff. "You admire that I lack morals?"
Gabe's head tilts. "You don't lack morals. They bend, sure. But everyone's do. If you're beating yourself up about it, you should stop."
I drop my head. I'm not sure I could stop if I wanted to.
"Have you talked to her?"
"No. She’s better off without me.” I release a heavy breath, nausea swirling. “Being with me… being a part of this family… it’s only going to hurt her, and I don’t want that for her.”
He nods, well aware of what our father did to her. What could have happened.
"Did you love her?" Gabe's question feels like a bullet slicing through my chest.
Did I love her?
I want to say no, deny the obvious. That it was nothing more than a deal. An arrangement that was always meant to end.
Because I don't love. I can't.
But that's a fucking lie.
"It's hard to love in a family like ours, isn't it?
" Gabe says casually when I don't answer, as if he just asked me the weather.
"Here's my take." He swallows the rest of his drink and pivots his body so he's facing me, staring me down as he says the next words.
"We're fucked up. All of us. They did that.
Mom and dad. They made us feel like we're not worthy of being loved or that we need to put on a whole fucking performance in order to earn it.
But the truth is, you don't need to earn shit.
And if in this fucked-up world, you found someone who loves you for who you are, not the fancy suits, the penthouse, the money in your bank account.
For just you. You should run toward that.
Fuck everything else. Fuck them. And fuck this company. "
My heart pounds powerfully as I take in what he’s saying.
I feel like I'm drowning. Failing in all areas of my life.
Before her, I was a fortress. Emotionless. I was organized and at the top of my game.
And now? Thoughts race through my head, and each one elicits an ache in my chest or a twitch in my fingers.
These feelings that I had locked up neatly are all loose, running every direction and taking over my being.
She did this to me. She unraveled my carefully crafted person and now I'm left with the fallout.
"Are you just saying that so you can have the empire?" I try to play it off as a joke, but there's a part of me that's serious. It would be a good way to eliminate the competition. But I don't need to be eliminated; I've already done that to myself.
Gabe gives me a small, pity-filled smiled. "No."
I open my mouth to tell him that I think I hate this empire anyway, but I don’t get the change.
"Asher fucking Caine."
The voice cuts through the noise of the club like a blade. I look up to see Kacey storming toward our table. Her purple ombre hair is wild, and her eyes are blazing with fury.
My stomach drops.
"Kacey." I stand, some misguided notion of politeness kicking in. "I—"
"Sit the fuck down." She points a manicured finger at my chest. "We need to talk."
Gabe half-rises. "Maybe we should—"
"And you can shut up too, Paul Bunyan. This is between me and the emotional terrorist here."
Gabe's eyebrows shoot up, but he settles back into his seat with his lips ticking up into a smirk. Smart man.
Kacey plants her hands on the table and leans forward, her voice carrying despite the music. "Do you have any idea what you did to her?"
My throat constricts. "Kacey, I don't think—" She doesn’t let me finish telling her that this isn’t the place for this conversation.
"You broke her heart, asshole. Did you really think the money would make it better?” She scoffs.
Guilt rears its ugly head. I know I broke her heart. She begged me not to, told me she loved me, and I told her the car was waiting.
I don’t need Kacey to tell me I’m an asshole, I already know. "She went home to Michigan. Can’t even stand being in this city, the one that she loves, because of you.” Kacey's voice cracks slightly. "She loved you, you absolute waste of space. Actually loved you. And you destroyed her."
I never wanted to hurt Grace, and I despise myself for it. I was trying to protect her, keep her safe from my family and all the drama that comes with us.
She turns to leave, then spins back. Picking up the whiskey glass, she flicks her wrist, unloading the contents onto me. For a moment, my brain short circuits, and I'm back to that night months ago when the glass tumbled from Grace's hand and coated me in liquid. The look of horror on her face.
Kacey doesn't look horrified, though. She looks righteous in her anger.
"You know what the worst part is? She still defends you. Still says that she knew what she was getting into and it’s her fault for getting attached." Her voice drops to a whisper that somehow cuts deeper than her shouting. "She's protecting the man who broke her heart. Because that's who Grace is."
Then she disappears into the crowd, leaving me staring at my reflection in the bourbon.
"Well…" Gabe says quietly, his eyes still following Kacey as she struts away. "That was illuminating."
“She’s right,” I say. “I am a fucking idiot.”
I pushed Grace away because I was scared. And for what? So I can be CEO and be just like my father? The man who bribed someone to kill my wife? So I can lead a company that preaches wellness while only lining my pockets?
“I think I want to quit.” The words burst from my lips. It’s something I’ve been thinking since the moment I learned my father tried to have my wife killed.
I tried several times. I thought about going to my father’s house and telling him I’m done. I envisioned the scenario in a thousand different ways. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Isn’t this what I worked for? Why do I want to give it up?
But the truth is, it’s cost me so much. And I hate it. I hate unwinding my father’s messes. I hate having to pretend that he’s not a monster. And I hate that I chose this company over Grace.
“Then quit,” Gabe says. “And I’m not saying that because I want to be CEO, trust me, Ash, I don’t. I’m saying it as your brother. You don’t need this company; you could go and do anything you want wherever you want.
“And what about Dad?”
The corner of Gabe’s lips twitch. “I have a plan for Dear Ol’ Dad.”
Is this it? Is this what I’m finally doing? Choosing myself over my family? Over the company?
“Fuck this.” Slamming my hand down on the table, I push to my feet again. Gabe is smiling now.
“Go get her,” is all he says.
“I’m going to.”
I make a call on the way to the airport, and as soon as my father answers, I say two words: “I quit.” And then I hang up, not wanting to hear what he has to say next. After finding the address for Grace’s home in Cedar Falls, MI, and sending it to my pilot, I turn off my phone.
I don’t need any connection to my family or the business right now. All I need is Grace.