Page 52 of On One Condition

Whew. Just a little overdue birds and the bees, man-to-man chat that he’s clearly uncomfortable with.

A little fucking late if you ask me, but it’s better than whatever else I thought was going to be handed to me tonight.

Sex.

Asher.

Jesus.

Just the thought of her gets me hard. Her soft sighs. How tight she was. How incredible it felt.

And right or wrong, I’m having these thoughts standing in front of my father.

“Son.” He motions to the chair for me to take a seat. I’d rather have this uncomfortable discussion standing, but no one disagrees with Maxton. No one but Callahan, but that’s a different story.

“It’s late. I thought you were going out with Bunny—”

“Barbara,” my dad corrects regarding a “friend” he has made during our stay here. Everyone wants to be your “friend” when you’re a multi-millionaire. Most will take whatever scraps you throw their way in the hopes of elevating their status as a result. “And my plans have changed.”

“Okay . . .”

“We need to have a little talk.”

“I assumed,” I say sarcastically, but the sharp look he gives me tells me my snark probably isn’t a good idea.

“That girl you’ve been seeing—”

“Asher.”

He nods. “It’s over between you two.”

“What?” I laugh. Not the “you’re a grown man now and you can make your own decisions, but you need to make sure to use protection” spiel like I expected. “Good one.”

“I said it’s over. You’re not to see her again.”

What in the hell is he talking about?

I look over my shoulder as if this is a joke and Ford and Callahan are hiding somewhere, ready to laugh. They’re not. “Dad . . . what are you talking about?”

“I don’t like repeating myself. You heard me.”

“I love her,” I blurt out. Clearly, by his reaction, that was the wrong thing to say.

He rises from his chair and rounds his desk so that he’s standing in front of me. “You’re thinking with your dick, Ledger. Every good man does at some point, but this is the wrong time and the wrong person to do it with.”

I shove up out of my chair. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I shout.

His hands are fisted in my shirt in an instant, his face inches from mine. His voice is a cool, even tone when he speaks next. “You’ll do as I say. I will not have you disobey me on this.”

“Fuck that.”

“Fuck that?” he says, releasing my shirt and taking a step back, head shaking and a soft chuckle I don’t think I’ll ever forget the sound of rumbling in the silence. “That’s exactly what you did. You fucked that. And now because you chose to do so with someone . . . not of our status, her grandfather wants to press charges against you.”

“Charges?” I spit the word. He’s so full of shit. “For what?”

“Statutory rape.”

All the air is sucked out of the room.