Page 98 of On One Condition

Holy shit.

All this for me?

Definitely the most romantic thing someone has done for me.

* * *

The last few hours have felt like a blur. I’ve been primped and styled and glamorized in a way I never have been before. After a small fashion show where I tried on every dress, the blue beaded one with the sexy neckline and mid-thigh slit was voted as the favorite.

And I was secretly happy about that as it was the one I felt the best in.

Nita just sat back and observed the entire time, shaking her head and with a grin on her face.

She looked like how I felt. Stunned. In disbelief. Adored.

It’s a feeling every woman should feel at some point in their life . . . and a feeling I can’t remember having since . . . since that last night with Ledger fifteen years ago.

The thought has me smiling softly and closing my eyes to prevent the tears that are welling from falling. The last thing I want to do is ruin my makeup. But how crazy is it that it’s been the same man, both times?

When I’m certain the sentimental tears are gone, I open my eyes to find the driver of the car Ledger sent for me turning into the gates of the airport.

I glance around, expecting him to stop me at the small terminal of the local airport, but he keeps driving.

Through the gates.

Across the tarmac.

Up to a black jet with the words, Sharpe International Network, emblazoned on its tail end.

“We’re here, miss,” my driver states as he pulls to a stop.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Ledger

She takes my breath away.

It sounds cliché, but when Asher steps out of the SUV, she renders me breathless. The blue dress she opted for hugs her every curve. It’s sexy but classy—just like her. Her hair is in some kind of loose but intricate something or other that has me wondering how I’m going to keep my hands out of it and not mess it up when I kiss her.

Because I will be kissing her.

In fact, I don’t know how I’m going to keep my fucking hands off her.

Her makeup only adds to the full effect. It’s definitely more than I’m used to her wearing, but she’s still my Asher.

“Stunning.” It’s all I can say when she looks my way and her eyes hit mine. The smile she gives me. The look in her eyes. How her body intuitively turns to me. “Absolutely stunning. You. The dress. Everything.”

When I press a kiss on her cheek, I swear my stomach flips over. Something about her, about this moment and bringing her to see my brothers tonight, overwhelms me.

She’s incredible in every sense of the word. Asher in her everyday life stuns me. But she . . . fits. And I’m not sure what to do about that. Yet.

How do I merge our two very different worlds together?

Because I’m starting to see that it may become an absolute necessity.

“Look at you,” she says, luckily breaking up my thoughts and tugging gently on the lapel of my tux. “Handsome as ever.”

“Well,” I say, hands in my pockets as I rock back on my heels. “I know what a picnic in the field got me”—I shrug—“so I figured why not aim a little higher this time and see what happens?”