Always Mine

by Ruth Cardello

  Emily nodded.

  “I’ll see you before then. Bye,” Celeste said and left.

  Emily stayed and continued to walk from display to display and ran her hands over each one. It didn’t feel real, but it was happening. Her mother’s dream was becoming a reality.

  Two strong arms slid around her waist from behind. She spun and warm lips kissed her neck. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died on her lips when her eyes met Asher’s. Anger replaced fear. “Don’t touch me.”

  He tucked a wayward curl behind her ear and gave her a knowing smile. “That wasn’t what you were saying when I left you in Paris.”

  Emily slapped his hand away. “Left is the key word. I have nothing to say to you.”

  He grabbed her arm. “That’s a shame, because I have a lot to say to you. The most important being, I made it clear I wanted you to stay away from my family.”

  Emily tried to yank herself out of his hold. When that failed, she straightened her shoulders and growled. “What you wanted stopped mattering when you didn’t call me.”

  He pulled her against him. “Playing games with me is a bad idea, Emily.”

  Being near him again set her heart racing wildly. She told herself it was purely from anger. “Doing anything with you is a bad idea. You proved that pretty clearly.” She struggled again to free herself.

  He took her chin in his hand and held her face still. “God, you’re beautiful. I want you so much I could fuck you right here and not care who is watching on those monitors.”

  Emily clung to her anger, but her stomach clenched with sexual excitement at his comment. She glared up at him and said, “I couldn’t be less interested.”

  He ran his thumb firmly across her lips. “Liar.” His eyes burned with a desire that added to the electricity between them. “I want to be angry with you, but I’m so turned on by you that I’m willing to forgive you.”

  I know the feeling. Emily gave herself an inner smack for wanting him as much as he wanted her. He’s been gone for weeks. One call. One text. And he thinks I’ll fall right into his bed? Not this time.

  Even if I want to.

  No. No. No. I don’t want to.

  Wanting is weak. Why doesn’t my body get that?

  “Get your hands off me,” she said tersely, turning her head away from him. “I told you, I’m not interested.”

  He raised his head and turned, pulling her with him. He closed the door of the exhibit as they left it and kept walking, forcing her to double step to keep up with him. “I would believe you, Emily, but if you never wanted to see me again, you wouldn’t be living with my parents, telling everyone we’re in a relationship.”

  Emily dug her heels into the rug and brought them both to a stop. “Your mother asked me to come here. She organized an exhibit for me. I’m here because she is helping me, not because of you. I don’t know what she’s telling people about us, but I told her we were over.”

  He glared down at her. “You can walk or I can carry you, but we are not having this conversation here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Emily said, raising her chin in defiance.

  “Carry it is.” He bent to pick her up, but she started walking.

  “Oh, I’ll have a private conversation with you, but you won’t like what I have to say. You have the manners of a Neanderthal. If I ever did find you attractive your behavior cured me of that.”

  He turned toward her and lowered his mouth until it hovered above hers. “Kiss me and prove it.”

  Emily took a step back, but he stepped with her. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because one of us is wrong, and a kiss would reveal who.”

  Emily put a hand on the middle of his chest and gave him a shove backward. In surprise he let her go. “You make me so angry I can’t think straight.”

  He held her eyes. “I have a similar issue around you. I enjoyed our time in Paris very much. I told you I had work I had to attend to. I told you to wait for me. I went to my apartment first. How do you think I felt when I found you’d left, or even worse, that you’d come here?”

  Emily pressed her lips together angrily for a moment then said, “I. I. I. Do you know what isn’t in what you’re saying? Any thought of me and how I felt when you ditched me. How it felt to not know when, or if, you were coming back. Don’t tell me what to do or how I feel. There may be an attraction between us, but I don’t like you. The next time you lay a hand on me I will do my best to make sure you can’t have children. I don’t need a kiss to tell me which one of us is wrong. It’s you. Talk to me when you can see that.”

  Emily spun on her heel and strode away from him, tears of anger blurring her eyes. In her haste, she ran full into Dale, who had walked into the room unnoticed.

  He steadied her and asked, “Are you okay?”

  Dale had been nothing but kind to Emily, and she felt awful as she pulled away from him. “Yes . . . no. I need to get out of here.” He let her go, and she bolted out of the building.

  Asher knew his father had heard too much by the way he folded his arms across his chest and waited for Asher to explain himself. It was a stance he remembered well from childhood but hadn’t seen in many, many years. “I should go talk to her.”

  His father shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t. Not yet. Your mother and I have never gotten involved in your business or your relationships, but we like Emily. Right this moment, I like her a whole hell of a lot more than I like my son. You hurt that girl, and you don’t care. What does that say about you, Asher?”

  Asher’s head snapped back beneath the smack of his father’s words. “I refuse to discuss Emily with you.”

  His father gave him a long, hard look. “Why? Because you know you’re wrong?”

  Anger rose within Asher. “Of course I’m wrong. Everything I do or have ever done in your eyes has been wrong.”

  Dale’s face twisted with emotion. “That’s not true.”

  Asher held his father’s eyes angrily. There was no use debating what his father would never acknowledge.

  His father sighed and shook his head. “They say children are made from the best and the worst of their parents. You can’t see it, Asher, but the reason we butt heads is because you’re too much like me.”

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  His father raised an eyebrow. “I know what you think of me, Asher. You’ve always thought I’m weak because I let someone tear down my political career. I could explain myself and change what you think of me, but I’m too damn proud. Always have been. Tell me, who does that sound like?”

  Most of Asher’s anger dissolved in the face of the raw honesty of their conversation. It was the first time his father had ever addressed the event that had changed all of their lives. “Why didn’t you fight for your career, Dad? Why did you just give up?”

  “I fought for what was more important, and I’ve never regretted that decision. Your mother asked me not to take on the one who was spreading lies about me. That’s all you need to know. A strong man takes care of those who need him, even when their needs oppose his own. Be the man I know you can be, Asher. Little Emily doesn’t need a hammer; she needs a good man who will treasure her. If you can’t be that man, I’d like you to go back to Europe until after the auction.”

  Asher frowned. “Isn’t tomorrow the start of the mandatory week with Mom? The one none of us can miss?”

  An expression he’d rarely seen on his father’s face appeared. It looked like rage. Pain. Before Asher could apologize, Dale rubbed a hand over his temple, then after shaking his head, spoke with controlled anger. “Is that what you consider it? It’s not mandatory, Asher.” He shook his head again and seemed resigned to be disappointed.

  Disappointed in me. Always in me.

  In a quieter tone Dale added, “Your mother always feels better when her children are around her during this time, but you shouldn’t feel that you have to be here.”

  “I don’t understand why you’d w
ant Emily here for a week that has always been about family.”

  “Your mother enjoys being with Emily. She and Emily have both experienced great losses. I think that’s why your mother really wants Emily’s museum to work out. She wants Emily to be happy. Your mother is also convinced she’d make the perfect daughter-in-law.”

  “I have no intention of getting married,” Asher said forcefully.

  His father smiled and gave Asher a pat on the shoulder. “Your mother’s not picky about which one of her sons Emily chooses. Grant has been helping her organize the finances of her museum. Maybe something will develop there.”

  Oh, hell no.

  His father chuckled at his son’s expression. “Your mother was holding dinner until I returned with Emily. If you can bring better than I witnessed here, your mother would love to see you.”

  Asher thought about everything Emily had said. He was fairly certain he could seduce her back into his bed without changing a thing about himself. Even she’d admitted there was a strong attraction between them. However, he didn’t like the man she’d described.

  Seeing himself through his father’s eyes was even less flattering. Asher would never intentionally hurt Emily. Yes, he wanted her. Yes, he lost his cool around her, but he cared about her. Proof of that was how he couldn’t seem to get out of his own way when it came to resolving anything with her.

  Without pausing to think about it, Asher knew he could list a hundred things he liked about her. He liked how she saw the world and how he saw it when he was with her. He didn’t want to be a hammer if she needed a hero.

  With a curt nod, Asher looked back at the exhibit door. He hadn’t said a word about it, but he knew how important the event must be to Emily. If he required proof that he was a jackass, it was right there, behind that door. “Dad, do you have the code to get into the exhibit?”

  “Yes,” his father answered simply.

  “Can you give me a tour of it?”

  His father smiled broadly. “Gladly.”

  As they walked through the exhibit, Asher stopped to touch some of Emily’s three-dimensional paintings. Like her mother’s, they were emotionally charged, honest. They reminded him of the sketches she’d left in his apartment in Paris. “Emily isn’t marrying anyone but me,” Asher said aloud without meaning to.

  His father gave him a pat on the back. “I know, Son. I know.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  Emily was throwing her clothing into her luggage and gathering her things from her room at the Barrington house. She wasn’t about to stay in that house a moment longer than she had to. She’d call Celeste on the way to her house. She didn’t know what she’d say to Sophie about leaving, but she knew she couldn’t stay.

  Kiss me and prove it.

  I don’t have to prove anything to that . . . arrogant, self-centered, egomaniac of a man. I’m glad I told him what I think of him. He’s exactly who I thought he was when I first met him. I don’t know why I ever let myself imagine he had more to him than that.

  The door to her room opened. She didn’t turn to see who it was. Sophie was always the one who hunted her down around mealtime. “I’m sorry, Sophie, but I can’t stay here anymore.”

  “Don’t leave because I’m an asshole, Emily.”

  Emily swung around to find Asher standing a foot behind her. If she was hoping he’d look contrite, she was quickly disappointed. He met her eyes with his usual, confident stare. “I’m leaving because you were right: I don’t belong here. This is your family, not mine.”

  Asher sat on the bed beside her open suitcase. “At the moment, I wouldn’t put that to a vote.”

  Emily continued to pack as anger surged within her. “Pardon me if I don’t laugh at your jokes.”

  “The work that took me away from Paris was important and all-consuming.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Emily said angrily as she threw things into her bag.

  “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did.” She turned to glare at him. “But I’ve had weeks to get over you, and I have. Now, if we’re done, can you go so I can finish packing?”

  Asher didn’t budge. He studied her for a moment then said, “I had roses with me when I returned to the apartment. Roses and some gifts for you.”

  Emily paused and put a hand on one of her hips. “Did you honestly think I would be there? After weeks of hearing nothing from you?”

  He made a face as if he wanted to say yes but knew it was the wrong answer. “I said I’d be back.”

  Emily shook out a shirt before folding it. “You told me to stay, but I’m not a dog.” Feelings she thought she’d put behind her came rushing back, and she clenched her hands at her sides. “Do you know what the worst part was? I knew what you were like, but when you took me to all those places I never thought I’d actually see and were so damn nice, I thought you cared about me. I thought—” She stopped herself from saying more.

  “I do.”

  Emily bent to retrieve a shoe from beneath the bed and then slammed it into the suitcase. “No, you don’t. People who care don’t leave you in Paris alone.”

  “My staff had instructions to make sure you had everything you needed. You were hardly alone.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Asher stood. “Well, I can see you’re still angry.”

  Emily looked up at him and her temper soared again. “I am.”

  They stood nose to nose, both breathing heavily. “What do you want me to say, Emily?”

  “Are you sorry about how you left me in Paris?”

  “I said I never meant to hurt you.”

  “But are you sorry?”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “You can’t even say it, can you? What are you afraid of?” She turned her back to him.

  After a long moment, Asher cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Emily looked over her shoulder. “My grandfather used to say, ‘Sorry means you’ll never do it again.’ I don’t know if you understand what being sorry really means.”

  Asher held her eyes. “I’ve gone after everything I’ve ever wanted the same way, and I’ve always won. I don’t know how to win with you, Emily.”

  She turned around to face him again. “That’s because we’re not on opposing teams. At least, we shouldn’t be.”

  He brought a hand up to cup one side of her face. “I wasn’t pretending in Paris. I enjoyed being with you. My company has a facility in Trundaie that was under imminent threat of being attacked. Telling anyone where I was going or what I was doing there could have put lives at risk.”

  “Trundaie? Aren’t they verging on a civil war?”

  Asher nodded. “Working with them is profitable but not without risk.”

  “You could have told me. I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone.”

  “I’d known you for two weeks and lives were at stake.”

  Emily looked away then back at him. She didn’t want to see his point at all and hated that she could. She reminded herself about what he’d said when he’d left her and how high-handed he’d been at the exhibit. A thought occurred to her and she blushed. “How much did Dale hear us say?”

  He put his hands on her hips and pulled her gently to him. “Enough to lecture me on my behavior.”

  Emily folded her arms across her chest, but she didn’t pull away from him. “He did?”

  Asher hugged Emily to his chest. “He did. And he was right.”

  Emily stood there tensely for a minute, then relaxed and wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest. His heart was beating wildly just as hers was. “I still want to kick you in the shin.”

  “Let’s try it later, naked,” Asher murmured against her hair.

  Emily swallowed hard. She knew if she looked up at him they would kiss, but her emotions were still too raw, so she simply hugged him tighter. He could have died in Trundaie. The thought twisted her gut. Yes, he had h
urt her, and the idea of opening her heart to him again was terrifying, but not half as much as the thought of never seeing him again. In the beginning she’d wondered if her response to him had come from simply craving intimacy with another person; now she saw it for what it was. Right or wrong, in Asher’s arms was where she wanted to be.

  The door opened after a brief knock, and Sophie walked in. “Oh, good, you two have made up. Which doesn’t mean you’ll be sharing a room. None of that unless you’re married, but I’m happy to see you’ve worked everything out. Now, come on. Dinner is ready, and everyone is waiting.”

  At dinner, Asher sat beside Emily and was filled with unlabeled emotions as he watched her interact with his family. The first unexpected realization was that all of his siblings, except Andrew, were in attendance. On a normal week, one or two of them might be there, but full attendance was usually reserved for holidays or the one week each year when they gathered for their mother. It was more, though, than simply the fact that they were all there. The usual underlying tension that made family dinners nearly unbearable was absent.

  Asher studied the group as a whole and then individually as he sought the source of the difference. His gaze kept going back to Emily and how her presence appeared to affect his family. His mother was smiling and calm instead of looking emotionally fragile as she normally did during that time of year.

  His mother put a hand on his father’s arm and said, “And then Emily asked if they were sisters. Cecelia was thrilled, but her daughter stomped off. You know how uppity she can be.”

  Emily pointed across the table at his brother Lance. “Someone, although I can’t say who, told me they were sisters.”

  Lance sat back in his chair and shrugged off the accusation. “I can’t tell Mom’s friends apart. Everyone over the age of eighty looks the same to me.”

  His mother made a mock gasp of outrage. “Neither I nor my friends are even close to eighty. I should make you come to our next bridge club as my partner. Dale, don’t you think that would be a wonderful way for him to learn their names?”