Reckless Abandon
Page 25
Gigantic kinks.
Right now, he is teaching in the room next to me. Today’s lesson is on the song “All of Me” by John Legend. I have the lyrics in the notebook next to my desk and a beautiful coral rose to accompany it.
Passion.
I thumb through my notebook and look at the pages that have been filled in. Twenty-eight song lyrics from him nestled in the pages. Twenty-four are from me.
Pretty soon I’m going to need a new book.
I pick up a pen and start to think of what song I’d like to dedicate to him today when there is a knock on my door. I look up from my desk and see Lisa walking in.
“I thought I’d catch you in here,” she says, looking back toward Alexander teaching in the next class. She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms in front of her.
I raise a brow at her disposition. “Can I help you with something?”
“What’s going on with you and the Prince of Darkness?” she asks and I’m completely taken aback by her question.
“What do you mean?” I say indifferently.
Lisa places a hand on her hip and looks down at me. “I don’t want to go all mother-hen on you but I’m worried. What’s a sweet girl from the Midwest doing with a guy like him? He already left you once, Emma. I’ve tried to mind my own business but I have to speak my peace.”
I lean back in my chair and cross my arms one in front of the other. “Is there something I should know about?”
“Just be careful, okay? That’s all I ask.”
I look over at my friend. She is a dedicated wife and a devoted mother. Lisa has no reason to scold me on my relationship unless it’s out of true concern. She’s not a jealous person or a gossip queen. If she says she’s worried, I have reason to believe it’s genuine.
Besides, her words are no different than the ones Leah reamed into me the other day when she found out Alexander and I are together. They went something like this.
“Can’t say I didn’t see this one coming.”
“You did not.”
“Oh, I did and that asshole owes you big time.”
“What happened to all that talk about how he helped me? Doesn’t that count for something?”
“He still left your ass in Italy, Emma. And don’t think I haven’t been stalking him on the Internet. He wasn’t exactly mourning the loss of your love these last few months.”
Those words stung a lot. “He had a right to leave,” I say.
“Whatever. You’re gonna do what you wanna do so, mazel tov.”
“Leah, we’re not Jewish.”
“You really think he’s for real this time?”
“I do.” I sigh into the phone. “Give it to me.”
“What?”
“The great McConaughey speech.”
Leah didn’t miss a beat. “The truth wills out and everybody sees. Once the strings are cut, all fall down.”
“You’ve been watching ‘True Detective’ on Netflix again haven’t you?”
“Just be careful.”
So looking at Lisa, I understand her concern. Problem is I can’t just hang up the phone on her like I can with Leah. I used to hate everyone asking if I was okay. Now getting told to be careful is becoming my new hated phrase.
“We’re taking it slow. Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing,” I assure Lisa and she seems to accept that.
The door to my office opens and Alexander sticks his head in.
“Am I interrupting?” he asks, stepping inside as if he doesn’t care if Lisa and I were in a private conversation or not. He grabs his suit jacket from behind my chair and leans in for a kiss. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes. Meet me uptown when you’re done. I want to show you something.” Shrugging on his jacket, he checks his pockets to make sure he has his wallet and phone. “Devon will pick you up and bring you to my office.”
Alexander has never asked me to go to his office before. It’s new territory for me. I’m interested to see where he spends his days but I don’t need a chauffer. “I can take the subway.”
“Devon will be outside at seven-thirty. That’s final.” He gives me a stern look making sure I understand. I return his sternness with a sarcastic salute from the forehead. He grins at the action and is just about to walk out the door when he adds, “Oh, and . . . you’re spending the night at my place.”
I shoo him away with my hand and pretend to ignore his bossiness. He laughs and then nods to Lisa as he walks out. When I look back at Lisa she is rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, looks like you’re taking it really slow.”
I snuck out of work a half hour early hoping to go home to pack a bag to appease Mr. Bossy and to, hopefully, avoid having to be chauffeured by Devon. I’m a New Yorker now. I can take the subway.
Of course, Devon was outside the academy waiting for me.
He knows me too well.
After we swing by my place for an overnight bag, I hop back in the car.
When we arrive at our destination, I thank Devon for the ride. He didn’t give me a hard time when I insisted on the front seat, again, but he doesn’t like me getting out without his opening my door. I assure him I am safely on the sidewalk and can escort myself into a building.
The Asher Building is located in midtown Manhattan. Standing on the concrete outside the giant turnstile doors, I lean back and look up at the impressive skyscraper of steel and glass. The heavy opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth play in my head. Despite what I know about Alexander Asher, when I think of him, I still picture the guy who jumped in the ocean with me. I smell sea and salt and feel wind in my hair.
What I don’t see is the imperial tower standing in front of me.
Walking into the massive lobby I am overcome with realization at just how powerful the Asher name is. Quite possible because, directly in front of me is a security desk and on the wall behind it is the name ASHER set atop an omega symbol.
Again, an omega symbol just doesn’t resonate. He’s more like an A-note or a treble-clef.
The two-story lobby has floor-to-ceiling glass panels overlooking the street and steel bars that run vertically through the space. The walls are lined in black granite and behind the security desk is an elevator bank of six steel doors, one of them leading to the man who controls all of this.
All around me, people who work in the building are walking toward the exit, as it’s the end of the long workday. Around their necks are lanyards with Asher ID badges along with their name and photo.
There isn’t a directory or guide anywhere, so I walk through the grand lobby toward the security desk and ask where I can find Alexander Asher. The woman behind the desk looks at me like I’m insane and tells me unsolicited visitors are not welcome. It’s at this moment, a man wearing a black suit, no smile and one of those rubber ear pieces like the CIA, taps her on the shoulder, and whispers in her ear. When the female guard looks at me again she eyes me differently and asks for my ID.
I reach into my bag and hand over my driver’s license. She looks me up and down, then hands it back.
“Mr. Asher is expecting you. Right this way,” the man in black says, but the female guard stops me to take my picture with a tiny camera on the desk before she allows me to go.
The man in black swipes his badge at the turnstyle leading to the elevator and the two of us pass as another guard takes a look at our credentials. My escort walks me to an elevator and hits the up button. We stand in silence waiting for it. I fiddle with my fingers and play a melody to pass the time.
When the elevator arrives, I step in and the man reaches inside and hits the button for floor forty-two, the highest number on the panel. He bids me a good night and lets the doors close, leaving me alone in the steel car.
I watch the numbers on the panel above the door rise and wonder what I am doing with a man who doesn’t just work in a building in midtown Manhattan, he owns it.
Shaking my head I stretch out my hand and feel the burn. It’s becoming a bad habit of mine again.
To the left of the reception desk is a set of double doors with a name plaque on the door that reads “Edward Asher.” That must have been his grandfather’s office. To my near right is a seating area of sleek black leather and my eyes immediately fixate on the massive fish tank that nearly takes up the entire wall.
Before I am able to walk over to it, I hear voices coming from the large double doors on the far back right, past the fish tank and to the side of the reception desk. One of the doors is slightly ajar and the voices behind it are loud enough they can be heard from the waiting area.
“ . . . hanging out at that silly little school. You have decisions to make and you are neglecting them.” It’s a woman, her voice deep and throaty.
“Security has you on the red list. How did you get up here? I told you months ago it was over.”
“Yes, I remember, in Italy when you tossed me off your boat like a two-bit hooker.”
Italy???
“You came uninvited.”
“Well, I was certainly welcomed while I was there.”
“You didn’t leave like you were supposed to. Why didn’t you get on the goddamned plane?”
“I had business to take care of.”
“My business, I’m sure.”
I stop moving in fear I am not supposed to be eavesdropping on this conversation.
“You have decisions to make, Asher. You told me you were signing those papers. That envelope has been following you around for over a year.”
“What does it matter to you?
“We were going to take on the world together. ‘Fuck them all,’ remember? That’s what you told me. And then you just left. It took me months to track you down.”
“I needed to get away.”
“From me? You said I was the only one who knew what it was like to be unloved. You said I was the only one who really got it.”
“I’ve changed.”
“You think you’re in love. Tell me, how has that gone for you in the past?”
“Get out!” His words are loud and booming, and I jump a little.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I said, get out!” I hear him bang on something, possible a desk and my body flinches at the sound.
The office door opens completely and a woman exits, rubbing her hands against each other in frustration. As she walks out, she stops at the sight of me and I recognize those dark onyx eyes.
Her lips fix into a wicked yet disappointed smirk as she slowly nods her head in understanding. Alexander is quickly behind her; his body also stops at the sight of me. He has an infuriated look on his face and his hair is dishevelled as if he’s been running his hands through it.
I push my shoulders back and look back at Malory Dean. She still looks as sexy as she did the first time I met her but tonight she has a determined look in her eye.
Taking three catlike steps toward me, she stops and looks down from her four-inch heels. “Emma Paige.” She says my name like it’s a revelation.
Alexander looks from her to me, uncertainty in his eyes. His footsteps are quick and heavy as he walks over to the elevator and hits the down button. “Leave.” The abrupt word is directed toward Malory.
Still looking at me, Malory’s already narrow eyes squint at me. The ping of the elevator causes her to lift her head. She looks over at Alexander, whose jaw is so tight I’m afraid his teeth are going to break. Malory walks toward the elevator but before she gets in she stops. Her eyes skirt towards me, again, for a second before zeroing in on Alexander. “Not everyone is willing to give it up as easily as you are.”
She walks into the elevator and the doors close behind her, leaving me and Alexander alone in the waiting room. I have no idea what that exchange was about and I have an awful feeling I don’t want to know.
Alexander walks over to me and I temporarily lose my balance when he takes my hand and pulls me through the double door and into his office. My feet find traction as they scurry behind him.
I have so many questions to ask him but my feelings are momentarily pushed aside as I take in the room we have just entered. This isn’t a typical office. This is a command center.
The room takes up half the floor. Granted, the building gets narrower as you get to the top, but there is no denying the immensity of the room. It is divided into four sections. To the left is what looks like the main office area with a large desk in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. An equally massive chair sits behind it. The sky is dark tonight so I can see a stunning view of the city with the buildings lit up like Christmas.
To the right side of the room is a seating area with furniture of black and gray and closer to the entrance is a conference table. Directly in front of me is a bar, fully stocked and large enough to host a party. The room is accented with glass tables, a mahogany honeycomb ceiling and golden eyes that are staring at me, waiting to say . . . something.
“How do you know Malory?”
I have to bring myself back to the scene I just witnessed between him and the gorgeous woman with dark eyes and a wicked smile.
“She came by the school a few weeks ago looking for you. She was rude to me, and I was mad at you anyway, and I had no intention of delivering her message to you.” I take a second to swallow even though my mouth feels dry. “You said she was with you in Italy. Is there something still going on between you two? Because I can’t—”
“There is nothing going on between me and that woman,” he says, taking me in his arms. “Long ago but not now. Not since I met you.”
I want to know how long ago, but would it really matter if it was two months or two years? He told me he’s been in love with two women in his life. I appreciate his honesty but I hate the idea of knowing there are two women in this world he loved, or perhaps still loves. “Is she one of the two?”
His eyes search mine trying to understand my question. “One of the two?”
I raise my brows waiting for him to answer me. His brows furrow a bit and then relax as he realizes what I’m asking. He takes in a breath and then slowly exhales. “No, Emma. She is not one of the two.”
I take a deep breath of my own. He’s been with other women before. I’ve been with other men. Well, I’m sure my number is a teeny tiny fraction compared to his.
“Does she work with you? Why was she here?” I ask, trying to make sense of the situation.
“She used to work for me but was fired. Our professional relationship ended a long time ago but I kept her around in my private life for,” he looks around as if trying to find the most tactful word to use, “company.”
Okay, maybe I don’t always appreciate his honesty.
It makes me wonder how low his self-worth is that he would spend time with someone just for sex even though he clearly despises her.
With extreme pressure on my arms, he looks me square in the eye. “Emma, I don’t want you anywhere near that woman. If you see her again I want you to call me immediately.”
Why doesn’t he want me near Malory? I’m pretty sure I’ve already heard the worst of it. What could she possibly say that he doesn’t want me to hear?
He feels my resistance and pulls me toward him. Taking my head in his hands, he skims the hair on the right side of my head and curls it behind my ear.
“Don’t go there. I know what you’re thinking. I have nothing to hide. I meant it when I said this is it for me. No more running. I’m here. Are you here with me?”
I look into the beautiful brown flecks of his eyes, surrounded my warm honey and I melt.
“I am. I’m here. With you.”
His shoulders relax and he kisses me softly on the lips. “Good, because I have something to show you.”
I want the kiss to conti
nue but he takes my hand and pulls me out of his office and over to the elevator.
“Where are we going?”
“Surprise.” He leans in and kisses me again and before I know it the elevator has arrived and we get in. He hits the button for thirty-three and we make our descent.
“Are we going to your company floor?” I ask.
“My company?” He tilts his head, confused. “They’re all my companies.”
This time it’s my turn to tilt my head and look confused.
Alexander explains. “This entire building is occupied by companies we own or are partial owners in. If we have stock in it, it’s here.”
I look over at the elevator panel of forty-two buttons. I was just coming to grips with the fact he owned the building, but not everything that occupies it. Minus the two-story lobby and his office floor that leaves thirty-nine floors of businesses. Alexander Asher runs thirty-nine companies. At least. That’s assuming there is only one business per floor. When I heard it referred to as the “Asher Empire” I thought it was all in jest. I didn’t realize there really was an empire to run.
The doors open when we arrive at the thirty-third floor. In front of us is a glass-panelled wall with the name Black Dog etched in the glass. There are still people occupying the space, working as if it were three in the afternoon, not eight-thirty at night. When the people see him, they immediately stop what they’re doing, straighten up and give him a professional greeting.
I laugh inwardly at the thought they find him so intimidating. Lord knows I did the first time I met him but when he lets you in he can be pretty adorable, like that time he wore flip-flops for the first and last time.
“What are you smiling about?” He is holding open a door with one hand and pulling me inside a darkened room with the other.
As I pass through the doorway, I give him a kiss on the cheek. “Just you and your adorableness.”
His smile reaches his eyes. “I’ve never been called adorable before.”
Alexander flips on the lights and room comes alive. I flutter my eyelids to make sure I am seeing this correctly.
We are inside the booth of a recording studio. The black panels of the recording equipment with their various buttons and levers that I have no idea how to use are in front of us. A couple of computers are there as well with two large sofas on the opposite wall. In front of the equipment is a wall of glass looking into a large recording space that is currently empty except for lone band equipment and a few microphone stands.