Page 80 of Pure Abandon

“Spill it, Asher. Was she a palm reader?”

Tossing a bite of sushi in his mouth, Asher holds up a finger, his mouth still chewing.

“Candace was the daughter of an executive I worked for. He didn’t think I was good enough for her because I worked as a broker and he had bigger plans for his little princess. You see, even though my name is Asher, I was a troublemaker and people assumed I only got the job because of my grandfather’s connections. Well, actually, that is why I got the job. No one thought I’d amount to much. Truth is I didn’t care if I did or didn’t. All I wanted to do was play music. I wanted to work for a record label, but my grandfather insisted I take a job as a broker.”

I eye him inquisitively. “You don’t seem to me like the kind of person who does what others tell him to do.”

My words must have caught him because his brows furrow with a look bearing a hint of resignation. “At the end of the day, I am an Asher, and with the family name comes great responsibility. My grandfather… he has rules and is very strict about how they should be obeyed.”

From the little I know about Asher, I understand he’s an orphan. A boy who lost his mother at ten years old and went to live with his grandfather, who it seems was a tyrant at home. From my head to the tips of my toes, I am dying to ask him more about his family, but I know with Asher, there is only so far you can go without him diverting the conversation.

“So how did you prove to the girl you were good enough?” I ask instead.

Seemingly grateful for the question, he nods and answers, “By making my first million buying a small textile company and reselling it, which I was only able to do because my grandfather gave me the capital. I don’t like to lie about how I got started. After my first big venture, everything snowballed from there. It was easy to buy and sell, and if all goes well, I will be buying my own record label so I can live my true passion, music.”

“And philanthropy!” I interject.

“And philanthropy. Yes, it’s a large part of my life.”

“So what happened? Where is Candy? Why aren’t you married with kids and living in Greenwich or somewhere?”

He kicks back a shot of saki. “Well, she did want me, but for all the wrong reasons. I knew then that I would never know who loved me for me and not for this,” he says, waving his hand in the air at our surroundings. “I don’t trust people for a reason.”

I swallow a lump and try to keep my mouth from falling. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind.”

“But I do. I assumed you liked being a bachelor, that you liked having a different woman every night.” I pause before making my declaration. “You wanted more in life.”

Asher leans back and laughs, his hand winding behind his head as he rubs his neck, his eyes darting around the table. “I think you’ve misunderstood. I quite enjoy the women I have in my bed.”

My head tilts to the side as I continue to look at him. As his hand returns around the front of his body, Asher lifts his head and his eyes meet mine. His cavalier grin melts as his eyes take in mine. His forehead crinkles.

Asher is avoiding my observation and he knows I know it.

He looks at me as if conflicted about responding. “My grandfather pushed the thoughts of settling down out of my head. Said it causes more heartache and distraction than it’s worth. He should know. He lost a daughter and took in her kid.” His gaze drops to the table. “The truth is, growing up without a family makes me want one even more.” There is a pause before he adds, “I’ve never said that out loud before.”

Tears well up in my eyes. What kind of life is that to live? When Asher said he wanted to be friends, I thought his tale of not being able to trust anyone was some sort of ploy. Now I see it’s merely the truth. Can it be possible the sinful Asher who feasts on Twinkies is really a romantic deep down? Can I have been so utterly wrong about this man? Have I been wrong about… everything?

Asher slowly leans across the table and gently cups my face, wiping my check with his thumb, catching a stray tear. “No, please, don’t cry. Not for me. I don’t deserve tears.” My breath hitches at his touch. His hand is so warm and comforting. My head falls slightly into his palm.

His eyes are sincere and I bite back the sting of my tears to show him I’m okay. “You are a great man. You deserve so much more than you’re allowing yourself.” I mean it. Getting to know him over the past few weeks has been a pleasure. He may be inappropriate at times and even bossy. God, he can be downright pompous. Yet, he is without a doubt the most amazingly contradictory person I have ever known.

“I have done some bad things over the years. In life, in business, and to women. Especially to women. They’re my toys. They use me and I use them. I like my lifestyle. I don’t have to answer to anyone, and at this stage, I’ve grown accustomed to doing whatever the hell I want.”

Asher releases my face from his grasp as I wipe the dew from my eyes. I can’t make him out. He is damaged, but not irreparable. Why does he continue his cavalier lifestyle when he can have so much more?

“You need a shot!” Asher motions for the waiter. “Tequila, por favor!”

“Oh no! I haven’t had tequila since college!”

“Oh, how I would have loved to have known you at eighteen.”

Letting out a slight laugh, I release a deep breath and shake my head. “I’m sure you would.” There’s the Asher I know so well.

The waiter brings back three shots of tequila… each. I explain to Asher that this is way too much alcohol, but he assures me this is top-grade liquor and I can handle it.

“Lick your hand,” he directs me.