He shrugs. "There are better ways to ruin a man than in public, and contrary to your opinion of me, I know how to behave, princess."
I grin, unable to help myself. Asher may know how to behave, but theory and practice are two entirely different concepts. "Will you, though?"
He studies me, then leans in. "What do you think?"
"I think you may have let him walk away, but you'll find a way to make him pay," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "You usually do."
"You're right," he says, "and I will. It's what he deserves for leering at you."
I shake my head. "You can't ruin everyone who looks at me, Asher."
His grin is all devil. "Yeah? Watch me, princess."
The shiver that runs through me has nothing to do with fear.
The rest of the day is a blur. Asher is everywhere at once—negotiating, intimidating, charming when he wants to be. But every so often, he glances over at me, and the same softness from last night flickers in his eyes.
He teaches me, too. When a new actor comes on stage, he leans in, pointing out every tell, every weakness, every flash of real talent. The way he brings me inside his world and shows me how he sees it is intoxicating.
By four o'clock, my feet hurt and my brain is mush, but I can't remember a day when I felt more alive.
When we're finally alone, waiting for the car, I glance over at him. "That wasn't so bad."
He snorts. "You look like you've been run over."
"Just tired," I say.
He studies me for a long moment. "You did good today," he says, and it's so unexpected that I almost don't hear it.
"What?"
He shrugs, awkward. "You caught things I missed. I'll remember that."
For a second, neither of us moves. The air between us is charged, but not with anger. With something like… possibility.
In the car, he takes my hand, tracing circles on my palm with his thumb.
"Why do you do it?" I ask.
"Do what?"
"Defend me." I swallow. "Protect me."
He looks out the window, the skyline a blinding mix of orange and violet as the sun sets. "Because you're mine," he says, his voice quiet and fierce.
"You don't own me, Asher."
He turns back to me, his eyes dark. "No. But I want to."
His confession should scare me, but it doesn't. It just makes me want him more.
I stare out the window, watching the city lights blink on one by one.
I'm losing the war, and I know it.
But I don't think I want to win.
Not anymore.
