Chapter 17 Asher
ASHER
Iclimb in the back of my car at the end of the work day, exhausted.
I spent the afternoon volunteering at a soup kitchen, and then it was back to the office for more meetings.
But the volunteering was actually a nice change of pace.
I served soup and got to tour the facility and talk a bit with some of the men who frequent the shelter.
It was . . . humbling to say the least. I’ve always tried to do charity work, but I realized that in the last decade, I’ve slowly, unintentionally shied away from the actual work of it, and got into the habit of simply donating money.
No wonder my parents have been frustrated with me over the last few years, I think, massaging my temples.
Not only has my personal life been empty and vapid, but I’ve been so caught up in work and success for the last decade that I’ve all but forgotten the principles they worked so hard to ingrain in my brothers and me.
My parents may have raised us in the glittering world of New York society, private schools, and glamorous events, but they also made very intentional efforts to show us what the world looked like beyond our privileged life.
They even took us to a war-torn country one summer so that we could see other people’s realities with our own eyes.
I’ll never forget my mother in tears as she spoke to my brothers and me about how she could never understand why some people were born with so much, while others were born with nothing.
She’s always struggled with religion, with God, and with her noble title because of it.
Because she couldn’t fathom why she was born into wealth and glamor, while the women’s organizations she worked with were filled with women who had been displaced, abused, trafficked, and had seen the worst in humanity first-hand and had lived through it.
She pleaded with my brothers and me to see those women, fighting with every fiber of their being for their children, worrying that their children would starve, worrying their children would die of easily-cured illnesses, because of a lack of resources.
It was something I thought I’d never forget.
And I haven’t forgotten it—but I sure have let it slip into the back of my mind in my laser focus to grow Langford Holdings.
This need for good PR has been a wake-up call in more ways than one, and as much as I still resent the board for it, I can’t help but feel like maybe this was an intervention I didn’t realize I needed.
Silver linings, I guess.
I loosen my tie as the elevator takes me up to my penthouse. As soon as I’m through the doors, the blaring sound of the TV hits me. At first, I assume Ella must be watching something, but then Declan strolls out from my kitchen, holding a full plate of food and a beer.
Shit. The game. I forgot.
“You’re late, man,” Declan says through a mouthful.
“Where’s Ella?”
Declan’s brows raise. He swallows his giant mouthful of food dramatically. “Nice to see you, too. She’s upstairs in her room, I assume. I only saw her for a second when I got here.”
“Did you let her know dinner was ready?” I snap.
He clears his throat. “Not yeeet,” he says, drawing out the word. “But I was going to.”
I give him a glare. “Sure you were.”
I push past him and head up the stairs to Ella’s room. I knock lightly.
“Come in.”
“Hi,” I say, finishing untying my tie and unbuttoning my collar. “Dinner’s ready. And sorry I didn’t warn you that Declan would be here, I totally forgot we had planned to watch the game tonight.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad about spending time with your brother.”
“I just don’t want you to feel out of place. Since you live here now, I want it to feel comfortable for you.”
“I’m good. Honestly, I’m going to eat quickly and just come back up here and relax. I’m really tired. It’s been a long week, and it isn’t even Friday.”
I nod, agreeing. This has been a fucking long week. I don’t often burn out, but this week has put me there. And that’s just my load. It’s not half as bad as Ella’s world being completely turned upside down since Monday. I want to make it up to her, however I can.
“Do you want to take tomorrow off?”
“I basically have it off. I’ll be shopping for my new wardrobe all morning, and then we’re finalizing all the things for the gala Saturday night since it’s our first official public appearance.”
“Are you excited about shopping?” Hopefully that’s a perk to all this that can brighten her night.
“Kind of. I’m not a huge shopper, so I tire of it quickly. And this is going to be a long haul of trying on and analyzing clothes in front of a team of people. So, I’m a little nervous.”
“You’ll do great. And you’ll look amazing in everything, so it should be easy.”
“Tell that to Matthew. He’s excruciatingly picky with what he thinks looks good on me.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I say with a laugh. “The only person I’m afraid of is Matthew.”
Ella chuckles, but then begins to fidget with the hem of her shirt.
“What’s up?” I ask.
She looks at me, almost sheepishly. “I know we never finished our conversation this morning about the intimacy aspects of this arrangement, but I think I need to take a pause on the subject, at least for tonight. I’m too tired to argue about it.”
Same here, I think, relieved.
“I’ll pencil you in for a fight tomorrow night.” I wink.
She laughs. “Sounds like a date.”
With that, we head downstairs to dinner.
Declan shouts at the TV, then yells at me to get into the living room; I’m missing it all, apparently. I try to whip up some enthusiasm. Normally, I love watching a game and hanging out with Declan, but like Ella, I’m just so tired tonight.
“Do you want to eat in the living room with us?” I ask her as she dishes up her plate.
“Um,”
“Come on, I don’t want you to eat alone.”
“Okay,” she acquiesces, following me.
We sit down on the massive gray couch, setting our plates on the oversized coffee table. I dig into a slice of homemade, gourmet, chef prepared pizza and try to get into the game. But it holds little interest for me.
“Come on!” Declan shouts as he paces, pizza in one hand and a beer in the other. “That was a foul!”
Ella eats and sips her wine with a half amused expression as she vacillates between watching the game and watching Declan watch the game.
“Is he always like this?” She smirks in Declan’s direction.
“This is toned down. You should have seen him when we were younger. He once broke a coffee table from jumping on it during a playoff game.”
She hums a laugh and goes back to sipping her wine while watching Declan with amusement. Ten minutes later she yawns widely.
“I’m going to head upstairs, I’m exhausted,” she says, gathering up her plate and glass. “Thanks for dinner.”
“Don’t forget there’s a nice big tub in your bathroom.” A thought sparks in my mind. “Or would you like a massage?”
She gives me a confused look.
Declan turns and gives me a salacious grin. “Are you offering massages?”
I roll my eyes at him. “While I do give excellent massages, I wasn’t offering. I was thinking a professional massage.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m too tired to go out, even for a massage.”
“Go out?” Declan asks.
She looks confused again. “Yeah, go out to a massage place.”
I chuckle. “You wouldn’t be going out, Ella. I’d have a massage therapist come here.”
“Oh.” She perks up at that. “Is that what you normally do?”
“Yes.”
“That would be nice. But I don’t want to be a bother. A bath is good enough.”
“Stop with that. You’re not a bother, Ella.”
I pick up my phone and text Matthew to have him order a massage therapist. I would do it myself, but I can’t do things like that with my phone and have my number get out. And I’m too tired and lazy to go grab my backup phone.
“The massage therapist will be here in an hour,” I tell Ella a few minutes later after texting back and forth with Matthew.
“Thank you. I think I will go up and take a bath while I wait. You boys enjoy your game.”
“Fanks,” Declan says through another giant mouthful of pizza, half listening to her, half absorbed in the game.
The game breaks for a commercial, and Declan turns to me. “You’re so fucked.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember our conversation from this morning? The whole, ‘we’re keeping things professional, and this isn’t a real relationship,’ conversation we had with Sterling?”
“I was there.”
“Asher, you’ve only known this woman since Monday. She’s already living in your penthouse, and you’re treating her like a girlfriend.”
“That’s a bit rich, coming from you.”
“Fuck you. But really, though. She’s the first thing you thought of when you got home, and you’re fussing over her, pushing her to eat with us so she’s not alone, ordering her a massage. I’ve never seen you act like this with anyone you’ve dated in the past, and it’s only been four days.”
“You sound jealous.”
“Maybe I am. Why aren’t you fussing over me? Where’s my massage?”
“First of all, mom fusses over you more than what should be considered healthy for a grown-ass man. And second, as you seem to have forgotten per our conversation with Sterling this morning, I have literally asked this woman to put her neck on the line for me. Yes, it’s only been four days.
And in those four days, her whole world has not only been flipped upside down, it’s been thrust into the media’s spotlight.
You and I both know what a fucking pleasure that is.
So yeah, I want to make sure she’s okay.
And I want to do what I can to make this as good for her as it can be.
That doesn’t mean I’m fussing, that means I’m not a complete asshole. ”
“You’re paying her a lot of money,” he argues.