I sigh. It’s the same for Maya. She called me yesterday complaining that Sterling has been a verifiable ogre since I was in the hospital. He’s almost worse than Asher, from the sounds of it. I have no idea why she would be a target since she’s across the ocean, but Asher and Sterling are taking no chances. Asher even has security watching Zahra’s apartment and hired extra security at the hospital Alec works at.
“Please say your goodbyes inside the car,” Jenkins says. “You must stay inside the vehicle, Ms. Hale.”
I take a calming breath to keep from rolling my eyes or snapping at him. I know he’s just doing his job.
“I love you,” my mom says, hugging me goodbye as we’re both still seated in the car. “I’ll call you when I’m home.”
“I love you, too. Be safe.”
Two security officers meet her outside the car. They’re flying with her and won’t leave her side until she’s delivered to her front door where her new security officers will take over.
What the hell is my and my family’s life now?
Later that night,I freeze just outside Asher’s office. He doesn’t know I’m here yet; doesn’t know that I’m watching him through the glass door. He’s bent over his desk, running hishands through his hair, and knocking back whiskey like it’s a sport. His tie is loose, with a few buttons of his shirt undone. But I’m not ogling him. I’m pulled up short because of the strain I can see on his face, in the posture of his body. We’re meant to be headed to a charity event right now, but Asher was caught late at work, so I’m meeting him at the office on the way there. But it looks like the event is a million miles from his mind.
He picks up a remote on his desk and points it at the TV. I discreetly crack the door open and crane my neck, curious as to what Asher is watching while he’s clearly stressed. At this angle I can see about half the screen.
“TDC Oil stocks have plummeted in the last four weeks,” the reporter announces as stock prices flash along the bottom of the broadcast screen. “Insiders aren’t sure what’s caused such a ripple in the company, but some assert that it may be connected to Sergei Antonov, TDC’s CEO, being taken into custody for questioning in connection to the death of Alan Hoffman, a former executive of Langford Holdings. Mr. Antonov vehemently denies the accusations and has made assurances TDC Oil is under control and that the company will recover and return to its normal stock prices soon.”
Asher gives a small, wry smile of satisfaction before turning the TV off and slumping back in his chair, whiskey in hand. He closes his eyes and loosens his tie further. Dark circles rim beneath his eyes, and his jaw is clenched so tightly that I’m worried he’ll crack his teeth. I’ve known Asher’s been stressed this last month. He hasn’t been the same since the poisoning incident, but now that I see him raw and unguarded, thinking he’s alone, I realize how much he’s been keeping from me.
My heart tightens at the thought of him carrying so much alone.
Jenkins walks up behind me, and the movement catchesAsher’s attention. He looks at me and immediately tries to straighten up and wash the stress and fatigue from his face.
“Can you wait for us for a bit?” I ask Jenkins. “It looks like Asher still needs to change into his tux.”
“Of course.”
I enter the office and hit the switch that turns the glass of his door and wall of windows opaque.
“How are you?” I ask, standing above Asher, who’s still seated at his desk.
“I’m fine. The time got away from me, sorry,” he says, eyeing my silver floor-length gown. “I’ll hurry and change so we aren’t late.”
“Don’t apologize. Who cares if we’re late?”
“Emily and Matthew would very much care. Entrances must be grand and all.”
“We’re not playing that game anymore. Who gives a shit about our entrance? We’re going to this event because we were already committed, but the motives behind that have changed. This isn’t a PR stunt; this is just a charity event.”
He blows out a breath, and my heart breaks as I watch him try to collect himself. He squares his shoulders, sets down his whiskey, and fights the look of exasperation on his face. But he’s not fooling me.
“What’s wrong, Asher?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Shut me out.”
“I have to right now.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t trust that you won’t do something rash, like organize a news interview and a tour of one of my companies behind my back.”
