Recipe for Lust: An Alpha Billionaire Romance Novel

by Ward, Alice

  “Are you okay?” Asher asked, his voice barely a whisper. I met his eyes and answered with a slight nod. The driver still seemed to be ignoring us, but I wasn’t sure if it was smart to talk in front of him.

  Asher seemed to agree that silence was our best option. He slid across the leather seat until our legs touched and then covered my cuffed hands with his. We circled around one side of the building and a stray cluster of reporters spotted the van. The windows were too dark for them to see our faces, but that didn’t change their reaction. They grabbed their phones as they raced to the visitor’s parking area and I knew they’d probably beat us to the courthouse steps.

  The whole world is hearing Rachel’s version of the story right now. They’re hearing that Asher is really Billy and that once again, he’s killed a member of the Chavez family. I wonder if stock in the company has skyrocketed or taken a nosedive.

  I knew there would be plenty of people who were appalled by what Asher had done. But I suspected that there would be even more who admired him for it. The Chavez family was the embodiment of the immigrant criminal stereotype and no one would be sad to hear there was one less of them in the world.

  Oh holy shit. If the story’s broken, Mom and Dad know. They must be going crazy. I’m surprised they didn’t show up at the jail. They’re never going to forgive me for this.

  I held tightly to Asher’s hands as we bumped along the narrow city road. The courthouse was only a few blocks away from the sheriff’s department and as I expected, a handful of news vans were already parked outside. And unlike the jail, there wasn’t a secured back entrance for us to take advantage of. The driver pulled up to the curb in front of the courthouse steps and we were immediately swarmed with reporters. Asher took a deep breath and blew it out roughly.

  “I’m so sorry, Lauren. Just keep your head down and don’t say anything,” he directed. He unbuckled my seatbelt, then his, and then climbed over me as a team of officers parted the crowd.

  “I’ll go out first,” Asher continued. “I’ll block you as best as I can.”

  The door slid open and dozens of demanding voices assaulted us from all sides as we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  “Mr. Reynolds, now that your past has been uncovered, will you continue to live under your alias?”

  “Asher, is it true that your ties to the Chavez family go back to childhood?”

  “There have been reports that the former director of your art department is somehow involved in the case. Can you comment on the state of EnvisionTech at this time?”

  “Ms. Matthews, were you aware of your boyfriend’s past?”

  “Did you and Asher go to the cabin with the intent to kill Luis Chavez?”

  “Would either of you like to comment on Miguel?”

  I heard the questions, but I couldn’t see where they were coming from. I kept my head down and gripped the hem of Asher’s suit coat as we shuffled up the steps. Officers flanked us on all sides to protect us from the crowd and their cameras.

  When we finally made it through the glass doors, the press was forced to stay outside. Kennedy and Parker were waiting on a nearby bench and rushed over when they spotted us.

  “How did you pull this off?” I whispered to my friend as an officer released my cuffs. The moment my hands were free, I reached for Asher. We locked hands and a wave of calm rushed through my body.

  “Judge Steinbeck is an old colleague of my mother’s,” Kennedy explained. “She’s also Chairman of the Board for the International Women’s Literacy Council, which Mom and Jack have both contributed to for decades.”

  “Couldn’t the prosecutor allege that there’s a conflict of interest?” Asher asked, his voice brimming with concern.

  Kennedy shook her head. “We’ve never met, and she and Mom are acquaintances at best. If judges had to recuse themselves from every case involving someone they’re distantly connected to, dockets would be jammed up across the country. Now, let’s get inside and get seated. We don’t want to keep the judge waiting.”

  She turned and led us through a set of heavy oak doors into a small courtroom. Small, sturdy tables sat in front of eight rows of worn leather seats. Kennedy led us past the small group of people gathered in the aisles and gestured toward the defense table. Parker took the seat closest to the prosecutor and Kennedy settled in beside her. I took the seat between Kennedy and Asher and scanned the faces in the room.

  “Kennedy, have you heard from my parents?” I whispered. Asher heard the question and gave my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

  Kennedy swallowed nervously and nodded. “They called about thirty seconds after Channel Two interrupted the Today show and announced the arrest.”

  “Are they beside themselves?”

  “They’re worried about you. Claire is with them now. She’s explained the truth, but she’s not sure they’re buying it. I thought it would be best if they didn’t know about the hearing. I thought it would be best if you aren’t in cuffs the next time they see you.”

  “Agreed.”

  Before I could say more, a small grey haired woman in black robes stepped through the chamber door.

  “All rise,” the bailiff’s voice bellowed through the room. “Her Honorable Judge Vivian Steinbeck.”

  “You may be seated,” the judge directed, settling in behind her bench. She pulled a pair of rimless reading glasses from the top of her head to the tip of her nose and stared down at her desk.

  “This court is now in session. We’re here this afternoon to address the matter of the State of California against Asher Reynolds and Lauren Matthews. If the defendants will please stand.”

  The four of us rose to our feet and she continued.

  “Mr. Reynolds, Ms. Matthews, to the charge of unlawful possession of a firearm, how do you plead?”

  Kennedy cleared her throat. “If I may, Your Honor, the defense waives reading of the charges. At this time, I move that all charges be dismissed without prejudice until the court has had an opportunity to have Cynthia Goins evaluated by an independent team of mental health professionals.”

  The judge shuffled through paperwork. “Cynthia Goins… the victim?”

  The balding prosecutor sprung to his feet. “Objection. Your honor, Ms. Goins has been transported to Cedar Sinai and is currently undergoing facial reconstruction surgery. It will be days if not weeks before she’s in any condition to undergo any type of questioning. This is a blatant attempt by the defense to stall the case long enough for the defendants to disappear.”

  “My clients have no intention of disappearing,” Kennedy insisted. “Their only desire is to clear their names and see that Ms. Goins gets the care and help she so desperately needs.”

  Judge Steinbeck studied the paperwork for a few silent moments and then peered up at Kennedy over the top of her lenses.

  “Motion denied, counselor. These medical reports describe Ms. Goins’ mental state during childhood. Decades old medical records are not ample grounds to delay this case. How do your clients plead?”

  “Not guilty on all charges,” Asher replied, his voice firm.

  The judge looked to him, then to me. Somehow, I managed to spit the words out of my dry mouth. “Not guilty.”

  “By reason of self-defense, in regards to the murder charges,” Kennedy added. “I’d like to move that bail—”

  “I object,” the prosecutor interrupted with a snort. “Your Honor, Mr. Reynolds is a proven flight risk. Ten years ago, when he was William Murphy, he killed Miguel Chavez and then fled the state. This morning, he killed another member of the Chavez family. Let’s not give him a chance to carry out the rest of his pattern.”

  “Ten years ago, my client was a scared teenager who felt that disappearing was the only way to save his life,” Kennedy corrected him. “Today, he’s an established, respected member of society. And he has nothing to hide. Ms. Matthews has no criminal history. She was nothing more than an innocent bystander whose life was saved thanks to Mr. Reynolds’
actions. I’m confident that once the facts are presented, everyone in this room will agree with me.”

  She threw a sideways glance to the annoyed prosecutor and then turned back to the bench.

  “In the meantime, my clients are in danger. Mr. Reynolds has lived most of his life in fear of the Chavez family. Their actions justified that fear when he was a child and they justified it again this morning. I’m sure Your Honor is aware that the family is fond of revenge and has deep criminal ties within the prison system. Undercover operatives within the family have reported that there is now a price on Mr. Reynolds’ head. I move that bail be set at whatever Your Honor sees fit and my clients be released under condition of house arrest.”

  “The State is more than capable of housing Mr. Reynolds and Ms. Matthews safely,” the prosecutor insisted.

  “The State has failed my clients time and time again. If released, both would reside at Mr. Reynolds’ San Jose estate. They have ample resources to ensure their safety. Mr. Reynolds is also willing to allow the court real time access to his home security cameras, so there is never any question as to my clients’ whereabouts.”

  The judge raised an eyebrow and turned to Asher. “That’s an unconventional offer.”

  “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep Ms. Matthews safe. And I have nothing to hide.”

  Judge Steinbeck pulled off her glasses and laid them upside down on the desk. “This case is unique, to say the least. I don’t see the need to access your home security at this time. Quite frankly, I don’t feel the case warrants the mountain of paperwork legal access would require. Bail is set at one million dollars apiece. The defendants will be released on the conditions they surrender their passports and are outfitted with personal monitoring devices. While Ms. Goins’ childhood medical records were not grounds for dismissal, the court does recognize the need to have her mental state evaluated.”

  “Your Honor,” the prosecutor interrupted.

  The judge held up a hand to silence him. “Mr. Donaldson, she is the only witness in this case. And though her records are dated, they are concerning. Need I remind you that as a prosecutor, it’s in your best interest that your star witness be a sound one?”

  “No, Your Honor,” he conceded.

  “That settles it. Ms. Goins will be evaluated by each of your experts. I’m scheduling jury selection for October first. This court is adjourned.”

  When Judge Steinbeck slammed her gavel against the bench, I didn’t know whether to hug Asher or Kennedy first.

  CHAPTER 2

  A security guard opened the front door and Kennedy, Asher, and I stepped into the house.

  “Sit down,” Kennedy barked, gesturing to the sofa. She tossed her briefcase onto the coffee table and continued on to the kitchen. She pulled a single beer from the refrigerator and nudged the door shut with her heel as she returned to Asher and me.

  In response, we sat rigid on the couch like two kids waiting to see the principal. She’d kept her cool during the long car ride home, but I’d expected her to lose it the moment we were alone.

  Kennedy took a long sip of her beer, sat it on a coaster, and then turned to us with her hands on her hips. When her voice came out calm and collected, I knew we were in real trouble.

  “I don’t know what the fuck the two of you were thinking. But what’s done is done. I am going to speak slowly and I expect you both to pay attention. From this point forward, I am in charge. You will do what I say, when I say it, without question. You’ve dug yourselves into one hell of a hole. To be honest, I’m not sure I’ll be able to dig you out of it, Asher. You can’t afford to do anything even a fraction as stupid as the shit you pulled this morning.”

  “Understood,” he agreed. “At this point, I don’t even care what happens to me. My only concern is for Lauren.”

  “I’m happy to hear you say that. If you really mean it, you’ll allow Parker and me to file a motion to have your cases separated. One of us will defend you, one will handle Lauren’s case. If the time comes, you’ll have separate trials and juries,” she explained.

  “I told you I didn’t want to do that,” I reminded her, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

  “File the motion,” Asher insisted. I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

  “This isn’t up for discussion,” he told me, running both hands through his hair. “Please, Lauren. I put you in this mess and for that, I’ll never forgive myself. Kennedy’s right, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. When I realized where Rachel was probably hiding, I lost sight of everything else.”

  “That seems to be a habit for you,” Kennedy pointed out, narrowing her eyes. “And Lauren is always the one who suffers from it.”

  Part of me felt very satisfied knowing that Kennedy wasn’t going to forgive Asher anytime soon. But another, desperate part of me filled with panic. I respected Parker, but I trusted Kennedy with my life. I trusted her with Asher’s. I knew my best friend was his best shot at avoiding a prison sentence and I was terrified she’d insist on representing me instead.

  “I know,” Asher agreed, pulling at his curls. He rose to his feet and started pacing the room.

  “Once the cases are separated, do you think you’ll be able to get the charges against Lauren thrown out?” he asked.

  “At this point that’s highly unlikely,” Kennedy warned. “But if the judge grants the separation, I will certainly try.”

  “No,” I practically shouted, finally finding my voice. They both looked at me with a blend of shock and confusion.

  “What do you mean ‘no’?” Kennedy asked with a raised eyebrow. “You want to go to trial?”

  “Of course not. But if I have to, I’ll go with Parker. I want you to represent Asher. I need you to, Kennedy.”

  Many seconds ticked by as she stared at me, then she looked at the ceiling and blew out a breath. “I appreciate your faith in me, but I’m afraid it’s misplaced.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Well, my boss agrees with me and not you,” she said with a sigh. She sank down onto the couch beside me and took another sip of her beer.

  “What are you talking about?” Asher pressed, his voice choked with nerves.

  “I got a call from one of the senior partners in the LA office. Your case is getting international attention. Which means the firm is getting international attention. It doesn’t look good to have a junior associate as the lead attorney.”

  “They’re replacing you?” I asked, panic fluttering in my chest.

  She shook her head and swallowed the last drop of her beer. “Not exactly. But one of the senior partners is now listed as the lead defense attorney. Another will be assigned to work with Parker if the judge separates the charges.”

  “I don’t like this,” Asher said. “We’re the clients. I’m the one paying the bill. Don’t I have a say about who represents me in court?”

  “When you signed the contract, you hired the firm, not me specifically,” she reminded him. “If you want to fire the firm, that’s your prerogative. And if you don’t click with Clark, we can ask that someone else be assigned. But for the time being, not much is going to change. Parker and I will handle things on a day-to-day basis and send Clark regular updates. We’ll see him in court and he may show up for some of the depositions and the more important meetings with the prosecutor. For what it’s worth, I looked into him and he has a fantastic record. He’s tried thirty-seven homicide cases and only six of his clients were convicted. I think you should give him a chance.”

  “But you’re not going anywhere?” I asked. Her phone chimed and she read the screen before responding.

  “Yes, I am,” she replied. “My driver is here. But I’m not going far. Jackson rented a suite down in the valley. He’s waiting with room service and a bubble bath, both of which I need after today.”

  She stood up, grabbed her briefcase, and set off for the door. Asher and I followed. She stopped in the entryway and turned back to us.<
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  “You understand that those monitors on your ankles track your every movement. There’s a very good chance that the cops have other surveillance in place as well. If you step one inch off of this property, your bail will be revoked. Which means if any more revelations come to you while you’re sleeping, you need to pick up the phone and call someone instead of taking matters into your own hands.”

  “Understood,” Asher promised her again.

  She gave me a tense hug and then opened the door. A plain black town car waited in the driveway. Kennedy paused again halfway to the car and glanced at us over her shoulder.

  “You need to think about how you want to handle the press,” she warned. “The story is snowballing and most of the facts are being distorted in the headlines. I hate to say it, but you may want to watch the news so you understand what we’re up against. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”

  Asher nodded and lifted a hand. “Good night, Kennedy.”

  She didn’t respond. We watched her slide into the back seat of the car and then turned back to the house. I took Asher’s arm and he pulled me close as we made our way back to the sofa. It was the first time we’d been alone since we’d left his Explorer that morning. Asher leaned back on the sofa and I fell into his arms. His heart beat against my ear as I rose up and down with his breaths.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said after a few silent minutes. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I suspected Rachel had been working with the Chavez family all along. But I never expected Luis to be with her. If I’d known he wasn’t in LA…”

  “You mean if the cops had realized they were following the wrong damn person?” I corrected him.

  “Yes… though I can’t really say that I blame them. Luis and his cousin look an awful lot alike. From a distance, it would be really hard to tell them apart.” He kissed my hair and hugged me tighter. “I appreciate the way you always try to take the blame off of me. But you need to just let me own it this time. I fucked up. We’re both in deep shit and it’s all my fault. And worse yet, I could have gotten you killed.”