by Kreig, K. L.
“Thanks, Aaron. This was very helpful.” I smile, turning toward him.
“My pleasure.” He reaches up and brushes his thumb against the fullest part of my bottom lip, startling me. I try to pull back, but he curls his fingers around my neck, holding me in place. “You have a crumb here that’s been driving me mad,” he tells me in a low voice.
“Oh,” is all I can manage, remembering that I had a few crackers with my salad at lunch.
His fingers don’t move and I swear his face just came closer to mine. “Do you know what else is driving me crazy, Alyse?”
I swallow hard and shake my head. My brain has clearly not caught up to what’s going on here or otherwise he would have a fist in his face by now.
His eyes have darkened, now flitting back and forth to my mouth. “Your perfume. Jesus, you smell good.”
I start to pull my head out of his grip and open my mouth to tell him how highly inappropriate this is when I hear a throat clear. A deep, male one that does not belong to Aaron.
Oh. Shit.
I can tell by the look in Aaron’s eyes as they leave me and look toward my door that he’s thinking the same exact thing. He drops his hand from my face so fast, it’s like my body is now a conductor for ten thousand volts of electricity.
“Uh, Mr. Colloway, hi,” he bumbles. Pushing his chair back quickly, he stands and starts to walk around my desk. I’m still looking the other way. Knowing exactly how Asher will react to what he thinks he just saw, I bend my head and close my eyes, taking a deep breath to steel myself for when I turn around to see the blazing fury in his.
When I do finally look at Asher, I stifle a sigh. I’ve never seen a man look like he literally wants to commit murder before, but there’s no mistaking he wants to do just that. I’m surprised that his eyes aren’t flashing red and he’s not wielding a bloody scythe with Aaron’s head already rolling out my office door.
“It’s time for you to go,” he grits, punctuating each word slowly. Even through Asher’s tailored suit, I notice his muscles are rippling. He’s fighting to physically restrain himself from hurting Aaron.
This time I don’t even hide the shake of my head at his ridiculous reaction. I have to bite my tongue not to chew his ass up one side and down the other. Mind you, I’ll do that, just not in front of Aaron.
Asher’s one of the most possessive men I have ever known, and while that should be a total turnoff for me, it’s not. Most of the time I find it exhilarating. Today it’s just irritating. And embarrassing.
“I was just showing Alyse some things in the accounting system she needs for the audit.” Aaron’s brows are drawn together in confusion, probably wondering what kind of crazy his CEO just turned into. Asher’s practically morphing into a wild, frothing animal right before our eyes. Aaron apparently has no self-preservation skills or he would have been out of here the second he looked up and saw Asher ready to rip out his jugular.
I rise and make my way around the desk, standing between them. I’m not sure if I’m protecting Aaron or saving Asher from himself. Probably both. “Aaron, thanks for your help. I appreciate it. I’ll call you if I need anything else.”
“The hell you will,” I hear Asher reply under his breath.
Jesus, I hope Aaron didn’t hear that. I do sigh now. Rather loudly. I want to glare at Asher, but I don’t dare look at him or I’ll either kick him square in the little boys or burst out laughing at his utter absurdity.
“Yeah, sure. Glad I could help.” His puzzled eyes dart back and forth between Asher and me. I can tell he’s trying to quickly piece this jagged brainteaser together. He makes his way toward the door, but Asher is still blocking it, not looking like he’s going to move.
Grabbing Asher by the elbow, I gently nudge him into the room and out of Aaron’s way. “Mr. Colloway, please come in and have a seat. I’ll be right with you.” Asher silently walks forward, but I can actually feel his body shaking with rage.
I smile, hoping to hell it looks relaxed and professional, not like I’m about to have Asher’s balls twisted firmly in my palms in about five seconds.
“Thanks again, Aaron.” I quickly usher him out and shut the door. “What the fuck was that?” I hiss, spinning around to face my utterly ridiculous…lover? Boyfriend? Whateverheis?
“You’re kidding me, right? That’s my line, sweetheart. The guy practically had his tongue down your throat and you were just sitting there letting him do it!”
Taking a deep breath, I lean against the door and cross my arms. It’s obvious that one of us needs to remain calm. It’s also obvious it’s not going to be him. I lower my voice, trying to gain control of a situation that’s close to exploding into a hurtful verbal war any second.
“Asher, it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Really?” he sneers, leaning against the front of my desk, mirroring my stance. “Because what I saw was his hand touching your skin. What I saw was his face about two inches from yours. What I saw was a man who was looking at my woman like he wanted to throw her down on her desk and fuck her into tomorrow. And what I heard was him tell you how fucking good you smell. So, please…explain to me what I misconstrued.”
Okay, so it was exactly what it looked like.
Crap.
I want to break our gaze, but I can’t because then I’ll look guilty. And I’m not guilty. I did nothing wrong, but when he puts it like that, I feel guilty. Damn him for making me feel like I did something behind his back.
“I did nothing wrong here. I didn’t lead him on. I’ve told him repeatedly I’m involved with someone. Nothing happened, and I wouldn’t have let anything happen. You’re overreacting.”
“It didn’t look like nothing was happening to me.”
“Dammit, Asher. You got here about two seconds before I was about to tell him to back the fuck off.”
“Two more seconds and his mouth would have been on yours.”
“Damn you! Nothing happened. Nothing would have happened. I’m not attracted to Aaron.”
“He wants you.”
I shake my head. “Well, I don’t want him,” I retort. “I only want you.”
His eyes bore into me, as if trying to ferret out a lie. I wonder who hurt Asher so badly that he doubts me when I’ve given him no reason to. I’m disappointed and offended that he thinks I would do that to him. To us.
“I may have a lot of personality flaws, Asher, but adulterer is not one of them. I have never cheated on a man in my entire life. I wouldn’t do it.”
“I won’t share what’s mine, Alyse. That’s a deal breaker.”
“It is for me, too.”
We stand there, eyes locked for several tense minutes, neither of us moving. The five feet that separate us may as well be the goddamn Pacific Ocean. As hard as I’ve fallen for Asher, I don’t know if we’re going to make it if he freaks out like a rabid animal every time a man shows any hint of interest in me.
Possessive is one thing.
Irrational psychotic jealousy? No. I won’t subject myself to that for any man. Not even Asher.
A knock breaks us out of our strained standoff. I open the door to find a sheepish Tara standing outside. Lovely. She’s probably heard half of our fight; maybe she’s even transcribed it for our reading pleasure later.
“I’m really sorry to interrupt, but your two o’clock is here, Asher.” Tara spins, quickly walking away without waiting for a response. I don’t blame her. The tension swirling in this office is now so thick it’s suffocating me with every shallow, harsh breath.
Without a word, Asher pushes off my desk and starts to walk out. Grabbing his arm, I stop him, but he doesn’t look at me. “You need to trust me.”
If you break down his three-word response, each word is innocuous and harmless all on its own, but the way he strung them together hurts as much as being stabbed slowly with the end of a spoon. In fact, I’m not sure any other man has ever hurt me as deeply as the pain those three little words inflict.
&nbs
p; “Trust is earned.”
Chapter 20
Asher
“I’m out.” I turn over my cards, including my pathetic pair of twos, throwing them down in disgust. As I attempt to watch the rest of the hand play out, I pick up my Jameson, neat. Taking a long swallow, I savor the slow burn spreading in my nostrils, down my esophagus, and into my stomach.
I deserve it. I need it.
I want it to sweep through my bloodstream quickly and numb my brain, erasing my entire day.
My entire shitty day.
The potential acquisition we’ve been working on for months was flushed down the shitter today because of a huge unfunded pension liability we found during our due diligence. Thank God we found it, because after the HMT patent debacle and the current embezzlement mess we’re in with CFC, the last thing we need is to inherit another pile of financial crap, but we were literally just two weeks away from closing that deal. Months of work, wasted.
Then Tara told me she needs six weeks off at the first of the year because she’s having “female” surgery. Tara’s like my fucking right arm. Without her I’ll be lost, even if it is just for a short period of time. I couldn’t be an asshole and tell her she couldn’t have time off, even though those words were on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to ask if she could work from bed, but I figured I’d probably be violating all kinds of employment laws with that request, so I smiled politely and kept my mouth shut. She assured me she knew of a couple good temps that would work “so well I wouldn’t even know she was gone.” Not highly likely.
And then of course there’s the way I handled the situation with Alyse. I’d gone to find her in hopes of spending a few stolen minutes selfishly getting lost in her, only to find that fuckhead, Aaron, hitting on her.
I handled the situation poorly. I know that. I knew it at the time, but it was like having an out-of-body experience. My body and my mouth had been taken over by some unknown force. I hovered ten feet above, watching it play out like a bad fucking movie that I couldn’t pause or rewind.
I could anticipate the next assholeish thing I was going to say, only I couldn’t stop myself from opening my mouth and vomiting the hurtful words. They were sharp and caustic and not at all the way I felt. The only thing I could envision was Natalie all over again and the certain agony I would feel at Alyse’s betrayal.
Alyse is not Natalie.
Free the chains.
Fuck.
“Hey, asshole. You in or not?” Conn asks.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snip.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve taken you five out of the last six hands and three of those you should have won. Head in the game, brother, or I’ll clean you out.”
Damn Conn. He’s right. “You can try.”
I’m down five hundred already tonight, so at the rate I’m going, it actually won’t take him long to take the rest. Shit, I should just hand it over and be done so I can go grovel at the feet of the woman who’s been ignoring my calls and text messages all damn evening. By the time the red haze faded so I could actually think clearly, Alyse had already left for the day. I haven’t seen her since I was the Prince of all Jackasses walking out of her office while spouting some bullshit that was completely untrue.
I trust Alyse. I just don’t trust anyone with a dick to get within ten feet of her. She has no fucking idea the innate magnetism she exudes. She draws people to her without even trying. I don’t know if it’s her inner beauty or some goddamn scent she emits or the shimmery aura surrounding her that everyone unconsciously sees, but whatever it is, people are powerless to resist.
Especially men.
“You start, Ash.” Conn is leaning back in his chair. By the smirk on his face, he’s clearly enjoying watching my inner turmoil.
Without a word, I throw in a twenty-five-dollar chip before Conn deals the next hand.
We play our regular Thursday poker games with two of our board members, Graham Billowy and Marcus Hemsley, and our Vice President of Security, Carey Christensen.
I usually enjoy our Thursday nights. I rarely skip, unless I’m traveling for business. Whenever I’m in town, I make it a priority to attend. Except these last few weeks the only thing I’ve wanted to do is spend my Thursday evening with Alyse instead. I want to spend every single free minute with her. Now I understand why Gray bailed on us. Until he reunited with Livia, he was our sixth.
After the flop, I throw in another twenty-five.
“Shit luck on the Willow acquisition,” Graham says, chewing on his cinnamon toothpick. Outside of board meetings, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen the guy without a piece of wood in his mouth. He has to have splinters lining his entire GI tract.
“Better we find out now,” I reply brusquely. I really don’t want to discuss business. I don’t want make idle chitchat about anything, actually. I just want to be buried inside Alyse, whispering my apologies until she forgives me.
When the turn comes, I look at my pocket aces and up the bet to a hundred. I’ve already lost five hundred tonight. The maximum I let myself lose in an evening is a grand, and with the way I’m carelessly throwing money into the pot, maybe this will be my last hand. One can only hope. I risk a look up at Conn to see him smiling and shaking his head at my bet. He knows exactly what I’m doing.
“By the way, I think I’m in love,” Carey quips, calling my bet.
“What else is new?” Conn replies, also calling. Carey is thirty-five and divorced and, at five feet nine inches, is probably about thirty pounds overweight.
“No, this time I mean it. She’s absolutely stunning. I think it was love at first sight.”
I’ve lost count at how many times he’s sat here telling us he was ‘in love.’
“Have you even talked to her this time or are you just stalking her?” I ask. Carey is a great guy. Smart. Loyal. And a heart as big and deep as the ocean, but because his wife left him for another man, he lacks confidence. Hell, that’s probably why she left him in the first place, so he has a very difficult time actually approaching women. He tends to stalk them from afar instead. It’s actually kinda creepy. Will probably land him in jail someday.
Once the river is laid, I see I have three of a kind, so I throw in another hundred-dollar chip. This time Conn laughs out loud.
Fucker.
“No. I talked to her. Bumped into her in the cafeteria earlier this week actually. She’s working on some sort of short-term project for CFC, but wouldn’t say what.”
My head snaps to my left, which is where Carey is sitting. In about sixty seconds, he’s gonna wish he was sitting across from me instead, because at this angle, it would be all too easy to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze the ever-lovin’ life right out of his pudgy little body. I feel the haze that clouded my vision and judgment earlier return with sweet vengeance.
He can’t be talking about anybody else but my Alyse.
“Really? What’d she look like?” I try to sound nonchalant, but with my jaw clamped so tight, it comes out more like a hiss. If Carey was smarter, he’d catch on and shut his big fucking mouth before he digs himself further into his own grave.
“Oh man. Gorgeous. Couple inches shorter than me. Long, dark wavy hair. Eyes the color of melted caramel. Killer curves. And she actually has a personality. She was sweet, smart, and funny. Literally the whole package wrapped up in one tight little beautiful body. And her name was just as beautiful. Alyse.” The way he draws out Alyse’s name, letting it reverently roll off his tongue as if he’d like to savor it on his taste buds first, is the final trigger.
Remember that haze that I said was clouding my vision? Well now it’s turned thick and sticky and dark.
Red.
Blood red.
The exact color of the very liquid pumping through Carey’s veins, which is just about to be spilled all over Conn’s off-white carpet, permanently staining it a dark pink, forever marking the day that I killed my friend because of the way he’s talking and thinking about
my woman.
I throw my cards on the table, pushing my chair back so hard it flies across the room. Before I can even lay a hand on Carey, who now looks in fear for his life as he damn well should, a pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind, pinning mine down.
“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Conn hisses in my ear. “Sorry, guys. Asher’s off his meds today.”
Dragging me into the kitchen of his apartment, which is in the same building as Gray’s and mine, he finally lets me go with a shove, blocking my exit with his bulk.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Leaning against the fridge, I grab my head in my hands, pressing my skull between them hard. I have no fucking idea what’s wrong with me, other than the fact that I’ve fallen madly and deeply in love with Alyse Kingsley and it’s completely fucking me up. I don’t want to share her with another single soul. It’s selfish and controlling and completely unrealistic, but I don’t want another set of male eyes to even graze over her. Ever.
She’s mine.
Christ. I’ve completely lost my shit.
“Nothing,” I finally grate. “Bad day.”
“Like hell. It’s Alyse, isn’t it? What happened?”
Sometimes it’s great to have a twin. They think like you, they generally like the same things you do. A twin is a built-in best friend. But other times, like now, it’s fucking irritating, because they know you just as well as you know yourself. It’s almost impossible to bullshit them.
“You mean other than the fact that every single male within a five-mile radius wants to fuck her? Not a goddamn thing.”
Conn laughs. Actually has the balls to stand there and laugh at me. “Well, she is smokin’.”
I push off the fridge, intent on raining a world of pain down on my brother in the next five seconds when he throws up his hands in mock surrender, taking a couple steps backward. “Just kidding, Ash. Well, not really, but I have no interest in Alyse. She’s not my type.”