44
ASHER
Istride out of the coat closet first, adjusting my cufflinks and checking our surroundings. My pulse hammers from what just happened, but my expression reveals nothing.
The gala hums around me—champagne flutes clinking, laughter echoing off marble floors, my mother's carefully curated guest list mingling in their designer armor. I scan the crowd out of habit, cataloging faces.
But my mind is back in that closet.
Tell me you belong to me.
The words tore out of me like something unhinged clawing free. I've never felt that before, that raw, consuming need to claim someone so completely that the rest of the world disappears.
I should feel satisfied.
Instead, I feel twisted up inside.
Grace's voice echoes in my head:I'm yours. Only yours.
She said it easily, like it was the truth. No longer a game being explored between the two of us.
And fuck, did I love hearing those words from her lips.
But she shouldn't be mine. Not really.
This was supposed to be transactional.
Simple. Strategic. Safe.
Except nothing about Grace Morgan feels safe anymore.
I move through the crowd, shaking hands and making small talk while my thoughts spiral. When did this shift? When did my fake wife become someone I can't stand to see talking to other men? Someone whose tears make my chest ache? Someone I fucked in a coat closet because the thought of anyone else touching her made me lose control?
You're getting too close.
The voice in my head sounds like my father's. Cold. Calculating. Reminding me that emotion is weakness, that love is just another word for leverage.
I've watched him wield it my entire life—using affection as currency, withdrawing it to punish, offering it to control. My mother does the same, just with a softer touch and wellness jargon.
That's not what this is with Grace.
Is it?
I think back to my conversation with Dove, when she pointed out that we’re not like other people, people like Grace, who has the capacity to love, while I only want power. I’ve been trying to convince myself that’s not true, but isn’t it? Isn’t that exactly why I’ve avoided relationships for my entire adult life? And the only reason I entered this one was to meet my father’s requirements for CEO. If it wasn’t for that, I would have never pursued Grace.
I’ve grown affection for finding Grace curled up, writing for hours, so lost in her story that she forgets to eat. The way she submitted to me that first time, and every time after, trusting me with parts of herself that she keeps hidden. How she sat with Dove when my sister's world imploded, offering comfort my own family couldn't provide.
She’s a genuine, kind person, and she makes me want to be one too. I find myself wanting to come home and share my day with her, wanting to take care of her and hear about hers. Wanting to fall asleep with her in my arms, hear her laugh, see her smile every day.
Grace makes me want things I've spent my entire life refusing to want.
"Congratulations on your marriage."
I look up to find Robert Chen, board member and my father's oldest ally, extending his hand. Slipping back into my normal facade, I shake it automatically.
"Thank you."
"Your father mentioned the board meeting is scheduled for next week." His eyes assess me. "We're all very interested to see how you'll lead Sanctum into the next generation."
