Asher. Not Ashley.
Fuck him.
Fuck him for what he did.
And also …Fuck me, Asher.
Not that I had time to replay every second between us and search for the clues I’d missed. Not that I had the willpower to mend the damage he’d caused. No, I had to scramble to put on the fake Luke, even as busted and bruised as he was, and face my parents for family fucking dinner tomorrow.
This time of year had never been my favorite. Though I loved the many events to support various charities, it also meant more time around my parents than I would like. However, I’d use the opportunity to reset myself, to reset my desires. I’d be damned if I let one stupid kiss by one stupid and thoughtless child playing some sort of prank ruin all I had built.
By Sunday evening, I’d nearly forgotten what he smelled like, how his lips gave under mine, and how his hard frame hadn’t when I’d hugged him to me. Dressed in my finest Brioni suit of charcoal gray as if it were armor, keeping me safe while I healed, I chose a bottle of Barolo from my collection and picked up a bouquet of yellow roses for Mother.
That nineteen-year-old fuck wouldn’t best me. I’d had a lifetime of gaslighting myself. I was a professional at this shit.
My parents’ mansion, situated at the edge of town, was lit with spotlights, highlighting the fall-themed wreaths in the windows. Soon, those would be replaced with Christmas ones. The long, circular drive was manned with a valet, and I handed over my keys, straightened my lapel, and made my way inside.
Father’s laughter greeted me as I walked through the open front door. Mother, wearing a floor-length dress in navy blue, was in the foyer, speaking with an older woman.
“Luke,” Mother gasped as if she hadn’t seen me in years. The woman she’d been speaking with smiled and nodded before heading farther into the house.
“For you,” I said as I held the roses toward her.
“Ah, my darling, how thoughtful.”
“What’s the occasion?” I asked as I gestured toward the conversations.
Mother circled her free arm around mine and turned us toward the noise. “Do I need an occasion?” She laughed lightly. Not softly. Nothing about my mother would I call soft.
Though we’d never had any reasons to hate each other, we’d never had any reasons for a great connection either. I kept everyone at a specific distance, and that included my family. They knew the me I gave them very well and knew the real me not at all.
Some may find that sad, but I had long settled into this life of mine. I didn’t mind it.
I didn’t.
With a deep breath, the reality of who I was and should be settled around me once again. Comfortable. Familiar.
The sitting room was packed with people. Nearly thirty, if I had to guess. Father was speaking with William, William’s father, and two others near the great hearth with amber drinks in hand. When I made to start in their direction, Mother clamped her hand around my elbow.
“Not so fast,” she tsked. “Your father can have you once I introduce you to a few people.”
I bit back a groan and dutifully smiled. “Of course, Mother.” Just because I knew my place didn’t mean I’d quite resigned myself to a loveless marriage to a woman, which was Mother’s sole focus these days.
Mother circled the room, keeping me leashed as she spoke with countless women. Only women. One of the ladies was the very same Mother had marched in my direction yesterday evening. The one I’d snubbed as I rushed to find a suitable diversion.
This was a planned ambush dressed in centerpieces and wine.
Instead of latching onto the significance of the setup as I should, Asher, once again, forced himself into my thoughts.
Try as I might, I couldn’t see a man dressed as a woman last night. All I remembered were the highlights. His bright eyes painted in loud colors that weren’t garish, surprisingly. The dress that had made him appear older than a fucking nineteen-year-old had any right to look. Or maybe I wasn’t remembering that correctly either. Those long legs, his easy smile, his deep chuckle that … Okay, yeah, maybe that should’ve been a hint to the man beneath the appearance, but I hadn’t wanted to see it, had I?
Fuck. What am I doing?
“Luke, do you remember Georgina?” Mother said.
The woman in question appeared to be near my own age, but her bland expression was throwing me off. She didn’t have a single spark, nothing like Asher. Fucking Christ, he’d been a pretty woman.
“From the donation event last night,” I supplied smoothly. Mother had something up her sleeve. For too many years, I’d dodged her setups to not get an idea when one was coming.
