Asher (The Casanova Club Book 10)

by Ali Parker

  “I’m sorry,” I said a little uneasily. “I don’t feel comfortable talking about Asher’s personal business like this. He hasn’t told me any—”

  “Why on earth would he tell you he had a therapist?” She laughed at me.

  I lifted my chin. “Look. I know you don’t like me. And that’s fine. But you don’t need to throw your son under the bus to try to get me to run away.”

  She shook her head at me with pity. “Child, you really have no clue what you’re getting into with Ash. You see, I’ve been working for a long time to find him the right woman. A real woman. Not a girl in blue jeans who thinks a ponytail is an acceptable hairstyle. And for goodness sake, my son deserves a woman with a bank account large enough to buy herself a pair of proper shoes.” She clicked her tongue at my footwear, the brown pair of ankle boots I’d worn to the soup kitchen last week.

  I arched an eyebrow. “You’re concerned about my shoes?”

  “No,” she said, stepping closer to me. “I’m concerned about the disgrace that would fall upon my family should he throw his lot in with a mess like you.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  She rolled her shoulders and smoothed the skirt of her dress. My lack of fear seemed to be ruffling her feathers. “You don’t belong here,” she said stiffly.

  “You’re right. I don’t. I know that as well as you do. And yet, here I am.”

  Chapter 13

  Asher

  Keaton raised his eyebrows as he stared at me from across the long meeting table. I bristled under the judgment in his gaze and wanted to tell him to get stuffed. I might have done so had my father not been sitting on my other side, looking at me with that same unimpressed frown the others in the room wore.

  The only missing party was my mother.

  I’d been sitting here for at least half an hour, and she’d yet to arrive. When I asked about her, I was told she’d be on her way shortly, that she just had some personal things to attend to.

  I doubted it.

  Chances were high she just didn’t want to be involved in this conversation. Or she had the common sense to realize her presence might have only aggravated me further.

  Maybe John Lite had been the one to dismiss her in the first place, explaining that if she wanted this meeting to go well, it would be best for her to steer clear of the meeting room for a while.

  Still, it wasn’t going well.

  Both John and Brynwold were looking at me like I was my ten-year-old self and had just broken something extremely valuable.

  My father let out a long, weary sigh beside me and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, son? This is not the kind of media exposure this family needs right now.”

  I glared at the London gossip magazine on the table before me.

  The glossy front page seemed to taunt me, just like the other men in the room. The headline read, “London’s Most Eligible Bachelor Taken?” Beneath the bright yellow text was a photo of me and Piper.

  At the soup kitchen.

  Serving soup.

  Hairnets and all.

  I tore my gaze from the magazine and looked evenly back at my father. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “The problem is you’re making this family the laughingstock of the city, Ash,” my father retorted.

  “What’s funny about this?” I picked up the magazine and held it up to all their judgemental faces. “We were helping people who needed it. It’s not like the media caught me shooting up in a back alley or doing lines of cocaine in a club. You guys need to get your heads out of your—”

  “Ash,” my father hissed.

  “What?” I asked sharply. Nobody said a word as I challenged them. They stared back at me, their expressions tight and irritated, much like my own. Knowing there was no sense in this and we’d never be on the same page when it came to the public, I shook my head and got to my feet. “You know what? I was having a really nice day before you pulled me in here to talk through this bullshit. It’s a gossip magazine. Half the stuff they publish is hearsay, anyways. And for once, they have a cover that doesn’t make me lose faith in humanity. You lot need to get a grip on your priorities because this is not a problem.” I slapped the magazine back on the table and turned my back to them.

  All of them called after me as I strode to the doors, but I didn’t look back.

  How dare they interrupt my time with Piper for such nonsense?

  I pushed through the doors, their voices still hollering after me, and stopped dead in my tracks when I found my mother and Piper face to face, a mere few inches between them.

  My chest tightened like someone had driven their fist through my ribs and grabbed hold of my heart.

  Piper and my mother both turned to look at me in surprise. My mother’s hard expression pinched her narrow features together and gave her the appearance of an angry frail bird. When she saw me, the glare softened and was replaced with a temperate and well-rehearsed smile, one I had seen on her lips a thousand times before.

  “Ash,” she cooed. “Is everything handled?”

  I moved to Piper’s side and took her hand in mine. She didn’t move. Didn’t even lift her head to look at me. Her gaze remained fixed on my mother. “Handled?” I asked sharply.

  “Did Keaton explain everything to you? About how your actions have made this family look? Like we cater to the poor?”

  Piper squeezed my hand twice in rapid succession as if to say, “don’t waste your energy on this. She’s not going to change her values.” I appreciated her support. It was also a little jarring. I’d never had someone who had my back while I was facing down the Lady of Sutton Place.

  I swallowed. “There was nothing to explain.”

  My mother arched an immaculately plucked but thinning eyebrow as her lips turned downward in a frown. “I think the matter is quite serious. Your reputation is on the line. The public must respect you, Ash. Otherwise, when the time comes and this house is all yours, they’ll—”

  “They’ll what?” I asked sharply. My mother winced. I took a step forward and pulled Piper with me. “We are not the King and Queen of England. I know you seem to think we are or that we’re even in close standing, but we’re closer to the status of the public than we are to the King and Queen. I refuse to parade around this house and this city thinking I am anything more than someone who was lucky to be born into privilege. And I’d like to help the people who need it where I can. You will not change my mind. And neither will the tabloids.” I looked down at Piper. “Are you ready to leave?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  When Piper and I started off down the corridor toward the front of the house, my mother was hot on our heels, begging us to stay. She called after me until we reached the foyer, where she stopped at the threshold and called my name as if she could will me to turn back. I kept walking. The doorman opened the front doors for us, and Piper and I spilled out onto the cobblestone courtyard.

  I fished my keys out of my pocket and marched over to my Levante. Piper slid under the gullwing door, and as soon as her seatbelt was on, I peeled away from the house and back out to a reality that was easier for me to swallow: pedestrians on the street with umbrellas to ward off the sudden bout of afternoon rain, the smell of wet asphalt, getting cut off by taxi cabs.

  We drove for no more than ten minutes before I parked at the curb in front of a lounge with the best cocktails this side of the River Thames. Two massive sconces burned on either side of the old-century-style door which creaked on its black hinges when I pulled it open and held it for Piper to duck under my arm. She shook off her coat and dragged the soles of her shoes on the mat. I stepped in and put my hand in the small of her back. The hostess led us to a high table at the windows so we could look out at the sidewalk.

  The rain came down harder by the second.

  Piper and I each ordered a drink, me a sipping whiskey and her a glass of chardonnay. As we sipped them, I studied her for any signs of PTSD fro
m her encounter with Lady Sutton.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Piper watched me over the rim of her glass as she sipped her chilled wine. “For what?”

  “My mother. She cornered you, no doubt. What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing really. You came out and interrupted us before she had much of a chance to say anything.” Piper averted her gaze to smooth out the napkin beside her. Then she crossed one leg over the other and smiled sweetly at me. “Push it from your mind, Asher. No harm done.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, except I don’t believe you. I think you’re trying to protect me from the truth of what she said. But you’re protecting her, not me. I know the woman she is. I love her, Piper. Don’t get me wrong. I really do. But she can be so…”

  “Cruel?”

  I grimaced. “Yes.”

  Piper shrugged a shoulder. “We all can be.”

  “That doesn’t excuse it. Please, tell me what she said to you.”

  Piper shifted in her seat and gazed out the window for a moment. I watched her as she watched raindrops leave stripes of water on the window. Finally, she sighed and looked back at me. “She told me I didn’t belong here and that I would bring disgrace upon your family should you and I, you know, end up together.”

  My pulse flickered with anger. “What?”

  “She said a couple of other things that were petty and don’t matter. But Asher, seriously, I didn’t take any of it to heart. I work in customer service in America. I can handle rudeness in all shapes and sizes. Trust me. I’m okay.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Piper bit her bottom lip and twirled her wineglass slowly on the table.

  “She said something else, didn’t she?”

  Piper’s big dark eyes swept up to mine. She nodded.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  She licked her lips and refused to look at me while she spoke. “It’s not a big deal. She just told me something about you that I think is personal that you hadn’t told me yourself. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Piper nodded and finally met my gaze. “She told me you have a therapist. And that you’ve had one since you were young. She claimed you suffered from escapism.”

  I laughed. It caught me off guard as well as Piper, who blinked and gripped the edge of the table.

  She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a hush. “Are you okay?”

  Nodding, I dabbed the corners of my eyes with my thumbs. “Yes. Perfectly all right. Sorry. Sometimes, my mother still manages to surprise me with the shit she says. Yes, I see a therapist. I have been for a long time. Since I was ten, I think. Can you blame me? With a mother like mine, it was only a matter of time before I went loopy and needed mental and emotional support from a professional.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “I don’t care what she said about me. So long as she didn’t say anything else about you.”

  “Just the disgrace comment, really.”

  “And?”

  Piper blushed. “She criticized my outfit.”

  I sighed. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s fine. I’m fine. I can handle it. Do you trust me?” Piper reached across the table and put her hand on mine.

  “Yes.”

  She grinned. “Good. Now let’s order another round of drinks. My glass is almost empty, and that just won’t do. Besides, we need to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate?”

  She flashed me a white smile that cleared the darkness in my heart. “I feel like I’ve officially had the royal London experience now that I’ve been talked down to by someone of royal lineage. My month is complete. Everything from here on out is gravy.”

  Chuckling, I lifted my glass. “Cheers to that.”

  Chapter 14

  Piper

  Asher slammed his hand down on the table as he roared with laughter. A couple sitting nearby cast curious glances in our direction, but we both ignored them as I descended into my own fit of giggles while Asher desperately tried to finish his story about Antoni helping him sneak out of the house when he was younger.

  They’d been caught by John Lite who, apparently too old back then to care, had shooed them off with a wave of his hand. The young men proceeded to sneak off the property, get completely hammered out on the town, and then came back and promptly fell asleep on the front lawn to suffer the wrath of Lady Sutton at six in the morning the next day.

  “That sounds awful,” I said, gasping for breath. Asher’s inability to keep his composure for the duration of the story was more humorous than the tale itself.

  He nodded and rubbed at his jaw. “It was quite terrible. I’d never seen Antoni so scared in his life. I think he thought my mother was going to skin us alive.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  Asher laughed. “Yeah. Me neither. Lucky for us, my father was there to talk her down.”

  “He’s a lot more relaxed than her, isn’t he?” I asked, pressing a finger to my bottom lip. When I realized there was no sensation there, I frowned at my drink. “How many of these have I had?”

  Asher studied my glass and then his own. “I’m not sure. Four rounds? Six?”

  I winced. “You know, I think I’ve had more to drink in London than anywhere else this year. And I’ve only been here what, ten days?”

  “Sounds right.”

  I pushed my wine glass away from myself. “I’m going to call it.”

  Full night had fallen outside. Lamp posts lined the streets and cast a warm glow on the still wet pavement and sidewalks. It had stopped raining about twenty minutes ago. Headlights glowed and danced over puddles as cars passed by, and I sighed as I gazed out at the romantic view.

  “Your city is beautiful,” I said.

  “For a long time, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen,” Asher said.

  I looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

  He smiled. “Then you came along, of course.”

  “Stop it,” I said.

  “I can’t help it. It’s true.”

  Unable to fight the smile that stretched my cheeks, I rolled my eyes at him. “You’re a smooth talker, Asher. I didn’t expect that from you.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Kind of.”

  He chuckled and leaned back in his seat. Then he polished off his last mouthful of whiskey and rubbed at his eyes. “I think you’re right to call it on the drinks. I’m not going to be able to go back to the manor tonight. I hardly think I’ll be able to walk a straight line.”

  “Where will you stay?”

  “I’ll get a hotel room or something,” he said, shrugging indifferently. “It’s not a big deal. It will be nice to spend a night away from my mother anyway.”

  “Come spend the night with me in my room,” I said. The words poured out of me before I realized I was speaking them.

  Asher stared at me, and I stared back at him.

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Quite sure.”

  “The sofa pulls out into a bed. I can sleep there if—”

  “Asher,” I said softly, gazing into his magnificent cloudy blue eyes. “Just stop talking, will you?”

  The rain had picked up again when we were dropped off at the hotel, and the short twenty-meter dash from the car to the lobby left us soaked through. Raindrops danced on car roofs and splashed up my calves as I ran. Other people out on the sidewalk who didn’t have umbrellas covered their heads with their hands or their purses or whatever they had with them to protect expensive haircuts and fresh dye jobs.

  The people around this part of the city were definitely well off.

  We dashed through the lobby hand in hand, ignoring the looks from people sitting in plush leather chairs sipping cappuccinos. They had the right idea of how to deal with this gloomy weather.

  Asher
started peeling my wet jacket off of me as soon as the elevator doors closed behind us. I hooked a leg around his as he threw my jacket on the floor. It landed with a wet slap that made me start giggling.

  Asher cupped my cheek in one hand and gazed into my eyes. “What’s so funny?”

  My cheeks burned as I shook my head and tried to control the laughter. “Nothing. Nothing is funny. I think it’s the wine.”

  He slipped his fingers into my hair. “Is this a bad idea?”

  I bit my bottom lip and looked up into his handsome face. His eyes were more gray than usual today. Stormy, just like the weather. The way he looked at me made my skin burn so hot, it was as if the raindrops were drying. “I don’t think so,” I whispered.

  And I meant it. This moment felt right. It felt as if this were exactly how it was supposed to happen between us. Suddenly. Passionately.

  Cold and wet.

  I could smell his musky cologne as he held me between his body and the elevator wall. Desperately, I clung to his shirt, and he responded by dropping his head for a kiss that made me forget where we were and how cold I was. I forgot about my jacket on the floor and how oddly funny I’d found it. I forgot about everything that didn’t matter and the things that did.

  Like Levi.

  Right now, there was nothing in the world but Asher Sutton and me.

  And it was glorious.

  His kiss was deep and sweet. His fingers lingered in my hair as he pushed my head back against the wall and devoured me. My breath caught in my throat, and I held him tighter. His shirt was so soaked through with rain, it was almost like I was wringing a damp cloth.

  The doors opened with a chime behind Asher.

  But the kiss didn’t end until someone on the other side out in the hall cleared their throat. Suddenly terrified by our exposure, I pushed hard at Asher’s chest. He stumbled back a couple of steps but caught himself and turned smoothly to smile at the woman in the hallway. Her stare was judgmental, and her permed hairstyle suggested she was too uptight to withstand public displays of affection like this.