I shifted my purse higher on my shoulder. It felt physically painful watching him treat himself like this.
I just wanted to distract him or at least give him something positive to focus on. So I blurted out, “The press release is almost ready. Jared missed a line in the third paragraph that makes it sound like the foundation grant is already approved when it’s only proposed. I changed it to ‘Under final consideration by the executive committee.’ It's cleaner that way and can't be twisted."
Asher’s head lifted. He stared at me for a second, the exhaustion clearing just enough for surprise to register. “That’s… actually perfect. I spent an hour this morning trying to fix that exact sentence and gave up. Thank you.”
The doors opened onto the dim parking garage. Cold air rolled in, carrying the faint smell of exhaust.
Our footsteps echoed as we walked toward his reserved spot where his limo waited, and he seemed a bit lighter now.
“You okay?” I asked quietly. “That was… loud.”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
He stopped beside his car, but his head was hanging. “I’ve survived worse from him. I’ll survive this.”
I hesitated. “You’ve been sober here all week. Every day. That’s not nothing, Asher. I just… don’t want tonight to undo it.”
His eyes met mine and softened with understanding. Something raw flickered there before he shuttered it again, though I wished he wouldn't have. “I’m not gonna overdo it, Porter. I promise.” He offered a small, tired smile. “But I appreciate your noticing. It means more than you know.”
The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and my chest tightened.
Part of me wanted him to say something, maybe invite me along with him or to dinner somewhere. But he said, “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I want to.”
My protest was weak and his insistence was strong.
So we crossed the garage together, past rows of sleeping sedans, until we reached my car tucked in the far corner of visitor parking. I unlocked it and tossed my bag onto the passenger seat.
Asher was a gentleman in every way. He didn't pass off a single crude comment, not a slip of the hand. He didn't even use my given name, which felt bittersweet.
Here I was, supposed to pin this man in a scandal, only to find out that he was the well-behaved brother, if not a little broken. Meanwhile, the one who was really out of control held a noose over my head as a reminder.
Guilt had me tongue-tied, or I'd have asked Asher myself whether he'd like to do something.
“Drive safe,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Tomorrow…” I muttered, sliding behind my wheel.
He waited until my engine turned over and my headlights came on before he walked back to his own car. I watched him in the rearview mirror until he disappeared around the concrete pillar and disappeared.
Then I pounded my fist onto my steering wheel and let my head fall back against the headrest. I hated myself.
Everything inside me was churning and mixed up. This was not supposed to go this way.
It was supposed to be as simple as getting the guy to sleep with me and recording it to use as a pressure tactic.
Now what was I supposed to tell Clayton? That I was falling for his brother because I had no ability to stay objective and judge a man by his horrible actions?
My phone buzzed before I even shifted into reverse and Clayton's number flashed on the screen of my phone lying on the center console. As if my day couldn’t get any worse right now.
I pressed the hands-free button to answer the call and backed out of the space as Clayton's voice came through my speakers.
“Enjoy your little elevator therapy session?” Clayton’s voice was venomous. “Because I didn’t hear a single thing useful on the security feed.”
