It was raining cats and dogs. I sat in the seat, trying to compose myself as Greg called the charter service. After a lot of exclamation and groaning, Greg informed me that the charter service wouldn’t be able to clear our flight back to New Orleans because of weather conditions.
I fought the urge to shiver, holding myself tight. We were still on Cherry Street, not very far from my mother’s house. I had questions but was too defeated to ask them.
“The service booked us a room at the Baywater Hotel,” he said. “The presidential suite was all they had available.”
Finally, I sprang to life. “One room? Then let’s stay at another hotel.”
“No, Penina. I’m Greg fucking Carroll. I’m staying at the Baywater, and so are you.”
I realized when Greg whipped a U-turn and zoomed down the street that there was a battle to be had, but I had no fight in me. Or maybe I didn’t want to insist he drop me off at the airport so I could book the first commercial flight I could find back to New Orleans. If we remained in town, then I could return to Cherry Street, maybe later that night or early in the morning. Perhaps I would see her wrangle the kids into the car before they went off to church. Mom had never been religious, but she lived in a neighborhood of cozy, custom-built houses with pointed gables, aged trees, healthy lawns, and long driveways with cars big enough for full families. Those people went to church. It was what their parents had done and their parents before them.
On the way to the hotel, Greg seemed to regret speaking to me so harshly. He kept commenting on the bright side of staying at the Baywater Hotel, like the good food and how comfortable the beds were. He said he would give up the master and sleep on the pullout in the living room. I neglected to ask if he had stayed there before, feeling as if he was pulling all those upsides out of his ass.
But I couldn’t get the words on the green street sign out of my head.
Cherry Street.
Cherry Street.
Cherry Street.
It was after eight o’clock, and I hadn’t had a bite to eat since the turkey and cheese sandwich on the airplane. I was famished and dog-tired when we walked into the hotel room. It was definitely a stunner, tastefully decorated and modern. The comfy sofa was aqua and made of velour, and two cloth-upholstered sitting chairs faced each other, all on top of a dark hardwood floor. The décor was supposed to put me at ease, and it did. I was able to relax a hair, and I felt the void of not speaking to Asher since before takeoff. If he had attempted to call me, he wouldn’t have reached me because my cellphone was still in airplane mode.
I flopped onto the sofa and put my phone in regular-use mode. It buzzed, dinged, chimed, and rang. It was Asher. His ears must’ve been burning.
I hit the answer button. “Asher? Hello.”
“Where are you?” Even though he sounded as calm as a serene lake, I could tell he was seething.
Greg came out of the bathroom and clapped loudly. “This hotel room is nice. Come on, let’s go eat, beautiful.”
I closed my eyes, feeling dread. I had no doubt Asher had heard all of what he had said. And I wasn’t so sure what Greg had done was unintentional. I’d wanted to be the one to explain all that had happened before saying, And now we’re in a hotel room together, but I’m sleeping in the bed, and he’s on the sofa.
“Give him the phone,” Asher said in the same overly composed voice.
“Huh?” I asked, confused about why he would want to speak to Greg.
“Give Greg Carroll the fucking phone.” He spoke slowly and concisely.
I turned to see Greg standing in front of the alcove that led to the front door, looking bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and ready to chow down on a feast.
“Come on. I’m a big boy. I gotta eat. Let’s go.” He sounded as if he were wrangling the troops.
I quickly got up, holding my cell phone out for him to take. “Um, here.”
He frowned but took the phone. “What do you want, Sparrow? Oh, I mean Christmas?”
I was right—he did know Asher was on the phone.
Greg’s frown intensified as he listened. Then he sniffed bitterly and handed my device back to me. “Let’s go.” He turned and stomped out of the hotel room.
“You’re at the Baywater, and you’re coming downstairs?” Asher asked.
“Um, yeah, how did you—”
He hung up.
My mouth remained stuck open as I joined Greg in the hallway. “What did he say to you?” I asked.
“Fuck him. If he snoozes, he loses.”
“Loses what?”
“Let’s just get food. I’m fucking hungry, Penina. And your guy just pissed me the fuck off. I have to eat, or I’ll rip his fucking head off.”
I jerked my head back as his heavy steps resonated through the hallway. I wasn’t afraid of an angry Greg, but I was surprised by his temper. He’d been quite amicable until then.
I needed to think, to take a shower, to stop seeing that street sign in my head, and to have a longer conversation with Asher. But I was starving too. Food would help me sort out my confusion.
So I sighed and followed Greg into the elevator. I would eat first then go to the front desk and ask if they definitely had no other rooms for the night. By the way Greg was looking at me, eyes narrowed but glistening with lust, I had been a fool to ever believe him.
Greg pressed the down button, and the elevator doors closed.
“I would still like a chance with you,” he said once we were enclosed in the small space.
I gulped, watching him without blinking. “I thought we were becoming friends.” I barely had enough breath to say that.
When he snorted brusquely, I knew it was because he found my reply patronizing.
“You know who I am, right?” he asked.
I frowned, confused. “What does who you are have to do with this moment?”
He sneered. “I’m Greg Carroll. I’ve never been turned down, not even by hotter chicks than you.”
Whoa. I jerked my head back, pretty sure he’d just shown me how insincere he truly was. His comment was designed to knock me down a peg or two as well, but it hadn’t. I didn’t give a damn about how “hot” I was to him.
“Great. Then by all means, go pursue those hotter chicks, you dick,” I snapped.
It looked like he was going to reach out to touch me, but he pulled back. “Fuck, I’m sorry for that, Penina. I …”
The doors slid open, and we peered into the pale-blue eyes of Asher Christmas.
Chapter Nineteen
Penina Ross
The first thing Asher said was that both of us had to go with him because our flight was waiting.
Greg snarled. “I’m not going any-fucking-where with you.”
“Jerry Cartwright is expecting you in his office first thing in the morning. I was being generous, letting you ride in my aircraft. But I don’t give a fuck what you do.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Penina, you’re coming with me.”
I nodded. Asher wasn’t going to receive an ounce of pushback from me. I could smell him from where I stood. The scent coming off him was not cologne, as Greg had insisted. No, it was freshly laundered clothes intermixed with his citrus and mint soap. The scent was mouthwatering. I wanted to eat him alive. But it was crystal clear that Asher was pissed off at me. He didn’t hug me or touch me, and he barely looked at me.
Once Cartwright’s name had been mentioned, it was as if Greg turned into an obedient robot. Asher would not let me out of his sight, though, as we went upstairs and retrieved what little we had brought with us. I only had my handy tote bag in which I carried all my stuff, from toothpaste to tampons.
Greg drove the rental car back to the airport, and I rode in a hired car with Asher. Still, he didn’t say a word until I asked if he was going to speak to me.
“What do you want me to say, Penina?”
“Don’t you want to know how it went?”
“I know how it went. You didn’t see your mother.”
My chest felt ti
ght. “How do you know?”
“If you were there, Penina, then I would’ve found you at her home.”
My mouth fell open. “You went to her house?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
I had no idea what to say, even though I had a million questions to ask about her.
“She didn’t know who I was, though.” Finally, he looked at me. “You should’ve waited. We could’ve come together and arranged a more appropriate meeting between the two of you.”
“Did you tell her who you were?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed a pinch more. I could tell he was annoyed by me not addressing his last remark. There was nothing to say other than that he was right. I should’ve waited for him.
“No, I didn’t tell her who I was.” His tone was as icy as the energy he was filling the car with.
“And I know, Asher. Okay. I should’ve waited for you, but I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“No, you were not.”
I heaved a sigh. Does he want me to fall on my sword? Gouge my eyes out? Kiss his ring? Cry at his feet? Well, I was not going to do any of those things, even though deep down inside, the fear of losing him made me want to do whatever it took to remain on his good side.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Then I shook my head. Why am I apologizing to him? He wasn’t my husband. Also, the last time I saw him, he was walking off with his ex-girlfriend. “But you know, Asher, I don’t owe you an apology.”
“I know you don’t,” he said, to my surprise. “Not yet, at least.”
My entire face collapsed into a severe frown. “What do you mean by ‘not yet’?”
“When I marry you, I’ll be your husband, and you’ll know to think twice before you go running off with Greg Carroll.”
I gulped, absorbing the part about marrying me. Is Asher proposing to me? Would I say yes if he was? Should I ask him if that’s what that was? A proposal? No, Penina. Don’t ask.
Instead, I turned to look out the window and watched the landscape roll by, though I didn’t really see anything at all, and allowed what was last spoken the opportunity to fizzle away into the vacuum of inconsequence.
“You mentioned Jerry Cartwright,” I said finally.
“What about him?”
I turned to face his burning blue eyes, and they nearly set my heart on fire. “The organization already knows how the supplements they gave him affected his memory?”
“Yes, they do.”
My shoulders curled forward. “I should’ve—”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Penina. What’s done is done.”
I sighed briskly, pressing my lips together, annoyed by the way he was icing me out. “So we’re not on good terms right now, are we?”
“Fuck!” he shouted, wringing his hands.
I leaned away from him. “What the hell, Asher?”
“He lied to you, Penina. Every step of the way. And you put yourself in a dangerous situation. He’s bigger than you. And if he wanted to fuck you, there was no way you could stop him. When a guy goes to those lengths to get you alone, he won’t stop until he gets what he wants. So don’t ever do that again, Penina. Understand?”
I was speechless. Part of me wanted to defend Greg and the budding friendship I’d thought we were building. The other part seriously heeded his warning. You snooze, you lose. That was what Greg had said. What would he have done when I got into the shower naked? I would’ve locked the door, of course. I would’ve locked the room door when I went to bed as well. But my plans to keep myself safe said something about how much I hadn’t truly trusted Greg. That look in his eyes when we were in the elevator said it all. He was a man on the hunt. Asher had ruined his endeavor to fuck me. Shit. What was I thinking?
“I understand,” I was forced to say to the man who might one day be my husband if that indeed was what he’d meant by his perplexing comment.
He nodded graciously. “Thank you. And as far as treating your patient goes, you did exemplary work, Dr. Ross.”
Asher told me three other team members had reported the same symptoms as Greg. Another had been involved in a car accident late that afternoon. While he was driving, he had forgotten where he was and what he was doing. Other than whiplash, he was okay. But he was also taking the supplements.
“Wow,” I said.
“Yes. Team management is grateful for our efforts, which is why we’ll be working together in the future. We’re going to have an informal in-flight meeting on the way back.”
His pause and the penetrating way that he looked at me made me nervous.
“What?” I asked.
“Julia will be part of that call.”
My mouth fell open, then I had to remind myself to breathe.
Finally, we made it to the airport. Asher opened my door and took my bag and my hand, and we walked to the terminal for private flights. I was glad we’d finally made skin-on-skin contact, even if it was just our hands. That meant he was less angry with me.
Greg met us at the gate shortly after we arrived. His grimace moved from Asher and me holding hands to my bag hanging from my boyfriend’s shoulder. He cut his eyes away from us and stomped down the ramp to board the airplane. Asher muttered something about Greg not having the class to wait until the owner of the aircraft boarded first. I didn’t have to be a brain surgeon to grasp that they hated each other, but I refused to believe I was the reason why. No way. Their egos were the culprits.
The inside of Asher’s airplane was as roomy as a regular 747. It was something I’d thought I would never see or experience in real life. The setup reminded me of the penthouse. It had two expensive-looking white sofas, one on each side of the cabin. On a platform was a large table with four reclining chairs around it, two on each side. But there were so many little details too, like appropriately placed smaller tables and single sitting benches.
Greg had taken a seat on one of two large chairs set in the front of the aircraft. Asher and I sat at the table. There were two flight attendants, both friendly and pretty and happy to flirt back with Greg.
“Sorry, Mr. Carroll. Alcohol will not be served on this flight,” said the flight attendant who’d asked what he would like to drink.
“What the fuck, Christmas!” Greg boomed. “A fancy airplane with no drinks.”
Asher pretended not to hear him as he continued programming a panel on the table. “Once we’re in the air, you should come over here and join the meeting, Carroll.”
“What meeting?” Greg asked.
“The one Jerry’s going to be in.”
Greg didn’t respond, but it was clear he understood where he would be sitting once Jerry was on the line. I recalled what Greg had revealed to me about his father as Asher continued doing whatever he was doing to prepare for the in-flight call. It was as if the fastest way to convince Greg to comply was to mention Jerry. And I was sure Asher knew it, which was why it was the second time he’d used Jerry to get Greg to do what he needed him to do.
The flight attendant asked what I would like to drink while staring at Asher, who was paying no attention to her whatsoever.
I wanted to snap my fingers and say, “Hey, eyes on me, not him.”
“She’ll have sparkling water with lime,” Asher said without looking at either of us.
Greg scoffed. I assumed it was his reaction to Asher ordering for me.
“Thank you, and you, sir?” she asked.
“Just dinner,” he said.
“And hot tea, Earl Grey, with a little milk and honey. He’ll have that.” I’d heard him place that order at the café in the hospital between surgeries on several occasions.
Finally, he smiled at me.
We stared at each other. My heart beat like crazy. Then his eyes narrowed just a pinch before he went back to programming the console.
If we were alone, I would’ve asked why he was being so distant. However, I didn’t want Greg to know things were tense between us. Thank
goodness the pilot announced we were on our way to the runway. The flight attendants came into the cabin to serve our drinks and make sure we were buckled up. The one with dark hair and red lipstick made eyes at Greg. As I watched her, I felt eyes on me. I quickly looked at Asher, who was glaring back at me.
My lips parted. I wanted to explain that I wasn’t staring because I was jealous. I was simply marking an observation in my head. But Asher had turned away before I could try to explain.
Then we were speeding down the runway and climbing to altitude. Once we were settled, the flight attendants served dinner, beef tenderloin with Yukon Gold potato puree, glazed carrots, and a variety of freshly baked breads. Asher hardly touched his meal, while Greg and I devoured ours. We’d had an eventful day.
After fiddling with the controls on the table, Asher made a call to Chief Brown. It was just the two of them, and they were on together for a while. Mostly, Asher said things like “Yes,” “No,” or “Check that.” He was good at having a private conversation with others in the room.
Greg flirted with the stewardess named Willow, asking her where she was from and whether she had a boyfriend and all sorts of surface questions to keep her talking. I tuned him out, though. I was more interested in trying to decode Asher and Si’s conversation. It was difficult to do, and so far, I hadn’t been able to pin anything they said together to help me figure out what they were talking about.
Willow and Mina, the other flight attendant, collected our plates. Asher asked them to hold off on dessert, then announced we were ready to begin the call.
“You’re not going to eat?” I asked.
His eyes smoldered when he said, “Later.”
I melted into my seat. Was that a double entendre? I hoped so.
“What’s that perfume you’re wearing, sexy? It’s the best thing I’ve smelled all day,” Greg said to Willow.
“Oh, I’m not wearing perfume,” she crooned. “It’s against the rules.”
“Ooh, then that’s your natural scent. Tasty.”
I snarled at Greg and the show he was putting on. Wow, after all that personal shit he’d shared about his father and never loving football, I’d thought he had a heart. What a dick.
Embrace: The Secret Billionaire Asher Christmas Duet, Two (The Dark Christmases Book 9) Page 16