by Ali Parker
“What did you think of Asher?”
“I like him a lot.”
“Like?”
I nodded.
“Hmm,” Janie mused, popping the last bite of pizza crust in her mouth and chewing. She washed it down with a sip of wine. “No sparks this time?”
I thought of Asher. Of his stormy eyes, his smirk, his chivalrous nature, and his muscles. I thought of how kind he was and how good he made me feel when I was with him. “There could have been,” I said softly.
“But?”
“But there were others who came before him that I felt more of a connection with. I don’t know. It’s hard. He’s such a good man, and part of me thinks we’re perfect for each other.”
“And the other part?” Janie swirled her wine around in her glass and watched me over the rim.
“The other part knows my heart belongs to someone else.”
“Levi?”
I didn’t confirm or deny her question because “someone else” was actually plural. I’d fallen for more than one man on this journey. So instead, I lifted my chin. “It doesn’t matter, remember?”
“Right.” Janie sighed. “Because you’re still choosing money over love. I keep forgetting.”
“It’s been the plan since the beginning.” I hated having to defend myself. I hated it more that my words sounded weak and Janie’s sounded powerful.
“Sometimes, you have to change your plans, Piper. And what better thing to throw it all away for than love?”
I studied her before draining the rest of my wine. “It’s a nice thought, Janie.”
A nice thought indeed.
Chapter 25
Asher
I’d had too much to drink last night.
I knew I should have stopped. Antoni was there with a hand on my shoulder, reminding me I would hate myself in the morning, but even his cautionary words weren’t enough to slow me down. I threw back a dozen cocktails before I moved on to taking shots, desperate for a solution to the pit of despair in my gut over losing the girl I knew I never had in the first place, and now here I was.
Brooding.
My head pounded furiously as I grimaced against the sunlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains on my bedroom window. Annoyed, I jerked them closed, rubbed at my eyes, and took a deep breath to steady my nauseated gut.
It didn’t really work.
What would work was a piece of white toast and a glass of orange juice. And a couple of painkillers to sort out this headache.
Yes, that was the place to start.
The trouble was that meant I had to go downstairs.
It was already past ten in the morning. My mother and father would undoubtedly be waiting for me in the kitchen or the sitting room, my mother slowly drumming her perfectly manicured nails on whichever surface was near and gave it the most dramatic effect.
She would want to know why I’d slept in so late and where I’d been last night.
“Whatever,” I grumbled, leaving my bedroom in a pair of loose sweats and a T-shirt. I padded down the halls, my mind flip-flopping between angst-ridden thoughts about my mother and gloomy thoughts about Piper, who was now back in the United States.
I wondered how quickly she would bounce back from our time together.
A day?
A week?
Perhaps she’d already sorted through her heartbreak on the flight home. Crazier things had happened, and it was a proven fact that women got over breakups better than men did. Not that our separation could really be called a breakup.
It didn’t matter. The nuances didn’t matter.
What mattered right now was curing this hangover and figuring out how I was going to move forward without Piper in my life, now that I’d gotten a taste of how happy I could be.
Life was a cruel bitch sometimes.
As predicted, my mother and father were in the kitchen. Father had his newspaper open on his lap, and he was staring at it studiously through his half spectacles which were balanced on the tip of his nose. My mother sipped her tea and watched me over the rim of her china cup as I poured myself a cup of orange juice and went about preparing some toast.
“Morning,” she said coolly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough,” I said.
Her eyes followed me across the kitchen. I put a piece of toast in the toaster and willed it to work faster than ever before so I could get the hell out of there.
I was in no mood to deal with this nonsense. Not with this headache and my churning gut and my heavy heart. Nobody said a word, and I waited until my toast popped. Then I slapped some butter on it, cut it in half, and picked up my plate to return to my quarters where I could wallow in peace.
“Ash, please. Sit with us.”
I hung my head and stifled a groan.
My mother pressed me. “We haven’t seen you hardly at all this month. Indulge me.”
A string of foul curses rolled through my mind, but I turned back and went to the table, where I took up my usual seat. I stared down at my plate, and my gut clenched. Maybe eating wasn’t the best idea.
Maybe if I threw up, it would be a solid enough excuse for my mother to leave me be.
I picked up the toast and took a bite.
“Piper left yesterday, didn’t she?” my mother asked.
“Yes,” I said after I swallowed.
“Did you part on good terms?”
I studied my mother. “Fine terms. Why? Were you hoping she’d tell me she couldn’t stand the thought of being with me because of my meddlesome, cruel mother?”
My mother blinked at me, and my father looked up from his paper. “Don’t be mean, Asher,” he said. “Your mother is just trying to make conversation.”
“No, she’s digging for answers that aren’t any of her business,” I said.
Both of my parents watched me take another bite of toast. I managed to keep it down and ravenously devoured the rest of it. I was considering making another piece when my mother let out a tired sigh.
“We’ve been worried about you, Ash. Your father and I don’t recognize the man you’ve become. You’re always gone. And if you are here, your mind is somewhere else.”
Was this really happening? She wanted to have this conversation now?
I leaned back in my chair.
I supposed now was better than never. This was my chance to put it all out there, everything I’d wanted to say over this past month but couldn’t find the words or the calm to deliver them properly.
This was it.
“I’m never here because I don’t like being here,” I said, holding my mother’s gaze. “When I’m here, you bombard me with women you want me to date, or you question my decisions in regards to how I spend my free time. You criticize, and you pester, and you say it’s under the intent of my best interests, but I’m starting to doubt that. I’ve doubted it for a long time.”
“How can you say—”
I didn’t let her finish. “Your interests have always been yourself and protecting the finances of this estate. Rest assured, yours and father’s money is not my priority. My priority is this city and the people in it who need and deserve a helping hand and who have been neglected for far too long. That’s my purpose. And you need to listen when I tell you: I’m not looking for your approval.”
Both of my parents stared back at me in shocked silence.
“What?” I asked. “You’re suddenly at a loss for words?”
My father finally put down his newspaper. “Asher. Now listen here. This attitude of yours—”
“Enough,” I spat, my gaze flicking to him. “I am not your teenage son who is in need of checking in anymore. If neither of you can treat me like a grown man, then I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” my mother asked incredulously. “Where would you go?”
“Anywhere.”
“America?” she asked.
I laughed. “What? Are you afraid I’d follow Piper?”
She licked her
lips. That was a yes.
I pushed myself to my feet and went to the window. “You don’t have to worry about me following Piper to America, Mother. London is my home. This city runs in my veins. Just like your wealth runs in yours. I won’t leave it behind.”
I heard my mother and father exchange a few whispers between each other, but I didn’t turn from the window.
I gazed out at the gardens, at the fountain beyond, encircled by a maze of perfectly trimmed shrubs that reached my shoulders. I recalled the night of the masquerade when Piper and I walked that maze and found ourselves at the fountain.
I smiled at the memory of her putting her feet in the water. They must have been hurting her after all that dancing in such high heels. Nobody had ever dared to put their feet in that fountain, and if they had, they’d been smart enough to never tell a soul.
Soon, it would be winter, and the fountain would be turned off so it didn’t freeze and shatter the stone. The gardens and the shrubs would disappear under a sheet of snow, and I’d be here, probably still staring out at that same space, thinking about the girl who’d changed everything for me.
“No more dates,” I said softly. “No more balls or galas or parties. It’s time for a change.”
“You still need a wife,” my mother said sharply.
I turned back to her. “No, I don’t. Not yet at least. No more women, Mother. I mean it. I’m not looking for a relationship.”
“Then what on earth was the point of having Piper around?”
“She’s different.” I slid my hands in my pockets. “She was worth it. But you don’t have to worry, Mother. I don’t think it’s going to work out between us.”
“Why not?” my father asked.
I sighed and turned back to the window. It was going to rain again. “Because. She’s in love with somebody else.”
The End
Want More?
Check out the next Casanova Club Member, Christian!
Grab your copy HERE!
Insider Group
Join Ali’s Insiders Newsletter Group for New Releases, Updates and to Connect with Ali.
As a thank you for joining her list,
you’ll receive a starter library from Ali.
Join Here
About the Author
Ali Parker is a full-time contemporary and new adult romance writer with more than a hundred and twenty books behind her. She loves coffee, watching a great movie and hanging out with her hubs. By hanging out, she means making out. Hanging out is for those little creepy elves at Christmas. No tight green stockings for her.
She’s an entrepreneur at heart and loves coming up with more ideas than any one person should be allowed to access. She lives in Texas with her hubs and three kiddos and looks forward to traveling the world in a few years. Writing under eleven pen names keeps her busy and allows her to explore all genres and types of writing.
Website ~ Insider’s Group ~ Facebook ~ Twitter
Instagram ~ Pinterest ~ Google+
The Parker’s Playground ~ Pen Names
Asher: The Casanova Club #10
Copyright © 2019 by Ali Parker
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
First Edition.
Editor: Eric Martinez
Cover Designer: Hang Le from Designs by Hang Le https://www.facebook.com/designsbyhangle/