“Very, considering how much you have clearly had to drink. You need to sleep off your bad choices.” He shoves his pants down his legs, making it damn obvious sleep is the last thing on his mind as well.
I nod, agreeing with him. “Yes, sleep,” I say, as much for him as me. I strip off my dress and toss it over the chair in the corner, followed by my bra, still looking at him like I want him to fuck my brains out. Because that’s exactly what I want. I know it’s crazy, but I want him close right now, need his warm body tangled with mine. It’s a false sense of safety, a notion of love I was beginning to think I deserved and even wanted. It’s all a big fat lie. But just for one more night, I want to hold on to the lie and pretend this is my happily ever after. That the three men who have been protecting me were doing it all for me. Pretend they are nothing like my papa and brother. That they’re in it for me and me only. That I’m worth it. A silent sob wracks through my chest. I’m not worth it. My own family didn’t think so and neither do they. I’m useful, that’s all.
He closes the distance between us. His finger sliding under my chin, he tilts it so I’m forced to gaze directly into his eyes. Hedraws me in close, placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Talk to me, beautiful.” He brushes my hair back and kisses my shoulder.
“I don’t want to talk tonight.” My fingers reach around his cock, showing him what I want.
“You make having a quiet night impossible.” He chuckles, helping me as he tugs his briefs down his legs so he’s completely naked. I stroke his length. He’s so hard and feels so damn good I get a flutter go right through to my lady parts; they’re almost desperate to be filled up by him, screwed the way only Asher knows how.
The bed dips, and he climbs in beside me. I have no clue what possesses me to do it, but I shove him back and roll on top of him, straddling him. He’s so beautiful, of course he doesn’t want me for me. He could have anyone. And probably has and will continue to after we’re married, I’m sure. That is my reality. They’ll marry me, but they will never really be mine or me theirs. I’m just a commodity.
Asher stares up at me, delight dancing in his eyes. “I never believed in marriage until I met you, Daisy.”
I huff out a laugh, unable to help it this time. He can’t keep this charade up. “It’s not real, Asher, just convenience, isn’t it?” My words sway with me.
“It’s real for me,” he says softly, a hint of pain in his voice I didn’t expect.
Tears well in my eyes, and I feel like all life is being squeezed out of my heart. He lies as well as Cruz. I lean forward and run my fingers through his soft hair. “I never believed in love until I met you boys, never thought I was worthy of it or that anyone was worth the heartache if it all went bad in the end. I kept my heart so tightly wrapped up and protected I thought no one could ever hurt me,” I whisper through the pain in my throat.
He touches my face so gently it almost hurts. It would be easier if he was rough with me right now. “You don’t have to dothat anymore. You can believe in love. We all love you. Jagger will never say it, but we do. This is it for us, you’re our girl, and we would do anything for you.”
I sigh, wishing it was all that simple. Pretty words from a pretty man. But that’s all they are. I roll my hips, and finding the tip of his cock, I slide down onto him. “I do love you, Asher.”
His lips curl up at the sides, and he takes my face in his hands. “I fucking love you so much, Daisy.” He pulls me toward him, kissing me so deeply I’m sure I feel it. And that’s how pathetic I am. I have myself so wrapped up in this shit that I think it’s real, when it’s all just a delusion.
I rock over him, his massive cock filling me over and over again until I’m trembling all over. I want more of this. Need it to be real. Tears roll down my cheeks; I can’t stop them. Pain radiates through my chest, this all hurts too much. I don’t want it to be a lie with them. I need it to be real, because if it’s not, it’s going to destroy me.
He rolls us so he’s on top, pinning me under his large frame. His hands coming to the side of my face, he strokes my hair softly out of my eyes. Then his thumb brushes over my tears. “What’s wrong, princess?”
I blink back up at him, willing the tears to fuck off. I need him to just screw me right now, I need something to ease this all-encompassing pain. “Just screw me, Ash,” I murmur, pain taking over. This is too much to bear.
His eyes narrow, and his lips form a thin line. “Not when you’re crying.”
“Just fucking do it.” I cry harder, tears blurring his face.
He looks so confused I almost feel sorry for him. Almost, except he did this to me. They all did. They broke me.
I rock my hips to meet his, trying to get him to move, but he’s frozen watching me.
“I’m not him, princess, I promise I won’t hurt you like he did,” he says softly, trying to placate me. But he has no idea the awful truth I know.
I suck in a ragged breath, trying to stop the tears from consuming me. Promises I need to hear but can never really believe. He’s already hurt me whether he meant to or not.
I reach for the back of his neck and tangle my fingers into his hair, gripping tightly. “I know you’re not him.” But not all hurt looks the same. Valentine might have been physically abusive, but I never loved him when I was married to him. I could compartmentalize and keep myself safe. Now it feels as though my heart has been ripped wide open. If he slapped me right now it would hurt less. “Do you remember when I asked if you have ever had a fork-in-the-road moment?”
“The first day I drove you to work?”
“Yeah.”
“You made the right choice, Daisy. You ran and made a new life for yourself, you chose you. That can never be wrong.”
I huff out a laugh. “What if I chose you three instead of myself?” I’m an idiot because I know that’s what I did. I picked them instead of running, instead of fighting, I opened my heart, and now it’s too late.
His brows knit together. “I think you’ve lost me.”
If I marry you, I’m choosing you, not me. “I’ve had too much to drink, I’m lost myself,” I lie, getting way too close to the truth. I beckon him with a finger, wanting his lips on mine. Because the reality is too much to take, and right now, I need Asher to do what he does best. Screw. “Screw me like I’m your wife already,” I whisper into his lips, knowing he will never be my husband because I can’t let it happen now that I know the truth. I have no idea how I do it, but I have to choose myself. And find a way out of this mess.
I feel his grin and know I have said exactly what he needed to hear. Yeah, I’m sure this man wants to be married to me. In fact, I believe that he thinks he’s in love as well, just like his sister said. But if I stay and marry into this family, I will be choosing them and not what I really came to the States to do—find myself and make my own way in this world. I know Sloane said it’s almost impossible for me to help run the Italian Moretti Media, but maybe they all underestimated me. I would have, and what they forget is I grew up in the media world. They may have sheltered me from the mafia side of things, but I know media. And not only do I know it, but me taking the reins and going against my papa and brother will show them I’m not the pathetic little girl they raised me to be. I know what I have to do. But for tonight, I just want to know what it feels like to be Asher Stryker’s wife.
