“Provocative.” I grinned. “Definitely provocative.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ASH
Istared at myself in the mirror.
The suit worked perfectly—dark burgundy with smooth silk lapels, tailored to fit like it had been sculpted onto my body. One of a kind. Striking. The kind of thing that should have sparked something—vanity, satisfaction, or a flicker of pride.
Nothing.
Just a flat, hollow quiet.
I lifted my glass of whiskey—my third in less than an hour—and let it burn on the way down before setting it on the table beside me.
Thirty-nine.
Thirty-fucking-nine.
And what did I have to show for it?
I had walked away from my title in my father’s empire—a father I was no longer speaking to—to build something of my own, and now I was getting to watch it implode in slow motion.
My relationships with both of my brothers felt strained, and the fault sat squarely with me. One I couldn’t face after my professional disaster. The other I’d hurt by doing the exact opposite of what he’d asked of me—which had been so simple. Don’t hurt his best friend.
And my love life—god. It had always been a mess, but right now it was collapsing in spectacular fashion, entirely of my own making.
Nothing was the way it was supposed to be.
And adding another year to my age only made the humiliation harder to ignore.
My reflection looked the same, but I felt older. Brittle around the edges. Exhausted in a way sleep never fixed—the kind that came from endless hours staring at spreadsheets and contracts, from late-night calls and emergency meetings, from trying and failing to find a way to stop everything from falling apart.
I picked up the glass again and drained it.
A tap sounded on the doorframe. “Jesus, Ash. Pace yourself.” Henry leaned against it, dressed in sleek black from head to toe, the crisp white collar of a very stylish priest costume giving him a holier-than-thou edge he absolutely did not deserve. “It’s your party, not your funeral.”
I kept my eyes on the mirror. “Feels like both.”
“You’re being dramatic. Forty is not that bad.”
“You know I’m turning thirty-nine,” I snapped.
“And apparently that comes with a loss of humor.” He sighed. “And here I was, ready to come in and give you a hard time. But you seem to be managing that well enough on your own.”
I let out a slow breath and poured myself another drink—one for Henry too. “Are you going to give me shit about Ethan again?”
Henry pushed off the doorway and came to lean against the mirror’s edge, hand outstretched for his glass. “Thatwasthe plan.” His eyes flicked over my face, and for once he wasn’t wearing a smirk. “You look sad, Ash. Are you okay?”
“You know I’m not a fan of birthdays. It gets worse with each one.”
Another drink gone. I adjusted my tie, fingers a little too precise. “Is Ethan coming?” My voice dropped before I could stop it.
Henry shrugged and took a sip, eyebrows lifting in appreciation. I’d pulled out the good stuff. Getting older and all that.
“He didn’t say. I haven’t seen him all day.” He stepped beside me, checking his reflection. “How about Luca?”
I turned from the mirror and crossed to the vanity, grabbing my cologne and giving myself a couple of sprays. The familiar scent settled in the air as I rolled my lips, debating how much to disclose. I didn’t want to lie to my brother—but I had a feeling he wouldn’t keep the information to himself. Just like my lovely assistant, who had recently decided that Ethan was the best thing to happen to the office. And shereallyhad trouble keeping things to herself.
