He’s quiet, but I hear him say, “You’re clean.”
I’m confused. “Sexually?” I blurt out, mortified by my lack of tact.
He laughs, and I feel it vibrate across his chest. And what a chest it is. I find myself pressing closer to him, so I can count how many ab packs he has across his stomach. I’ve done this before, but I will never get enough of it
“Your background, Lucy. Your background is clean. You intrigued me, and you had a clean background, so I picked you. I won’t lie and tell you I wanted to be with you back then, but I did like what I saw.”
“Oh.” I breathe out sharply and back up slightly.
I’m teetering on the edge of uncertainty, not knowing whether or not I should feel guilty about my past. He thinks I have a clean background, but he doesn’t know about Steve. It’s not like I did anything wrong, but it is a lot of baggage. Baggage that I haven’t mentioned once.
What happens if he asks me to go to Los Angeles for his hotel’s grand opening, and I say no? Because no way will I be able to be in the same state as Steve. Not happening. The thought causes my legs to tremble, and Asher picks up on it.
“Are you thinking of running right now? Am I moving too fast?” he asks.
I know it’s wrong to deceive him, but I still nod. I can’t tell him about Steve now. Too much time has passed, and I’m trapped by my decision.
He looks me straight in the eyes as he says, “I’ll slow down. But whenever you think about running, please, remember that you didn’t run from me when I was the big bad wolf. You’re braver than you think you are.”
My face flushes red, and I mumble, “You still are the big, bad wolf.”
“Oh, Lucy.” He sighs. “Never to you. Never to you.”
True to his word, Asher slowed down. I almost wish I hadn’t nodded when he asked if he was moving too fast. That I would have told him the truth instead. But I didn’t, and now I’m suffering the consequences.
It’s been two days, and the most action I’ve gotten from him are a few closed mouth kisses on the lips. I’ve been going crazy, trying to turn every kiss into a makeout session that I hope will turn into sex. But what I lack in willpower, he possesses in spades. And now, I’m in desperate need of a release, however I can get it.
I eye the clock on the nightstand, noting that Asher should be home soon. I reach down between my legs, running my finger down my slit anyways. I don’t care. I almost hope he’ll catch me. I dip a finger into myself, pumping slowly until my wetness spreads all over my walls. I drag my moist finger back out and circle my clit with it before plunging back into myself.
It’s not enough. I grab a random pillow and tuck it between my thighs, pressing myself into it. I rock against the plush pillow until I can feel the delicious friction against my clit. One of my fingers pinches a nipple, and the other hand massages a breast. I can feel my wetness, dripping out of me and onto the pillow, but I don’t care.
I’m panting, so close to ecstasy, when I hear Asher outside. He’s greeting my nightguard, and I know it’s just a matter of time before he enters the room. I quickly grab the pillow from between my legs and throw it to the top of the bed before shuffling under the covers.
When he enters the room, I’m casually tossing birds at pigs on my iPhone.
“Don’t you knock?” I ask, grateful that I’m able to keep my breathing steady.
“It’s my room.”
“Oh. Right.”
He winks at me. “You know who should knock?”
“Monica.”
He laughs as he enters the bathroom to take a shower. I relax my body, patting myself on the back for playing it cool. But when he finishes his shower and gets into bed, his head connects with the pillow I was grinding against, the one I almost came on, and he takes a deep breath.
His eyes connect with mine, the lust clearly there, but then he closes them before anything happens.
Before he touches me.
And all I can think is I don’t want to go slow anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It is only through labor
and painful effort, by grim
energy and resolute courage
that we move on to better
things.
Theodore Roosevelt
Asher’s gone when I wake up the next morning, but there’s a single black rose on the bedside table, accompanied by a note. My fingers brush lightly against the black rose, amazed by the deep ebony color. I’ve never seen a black rose before now, and it’s beautiful.
It’s sitting in a clear vase filled with a black liquid, probably water mixed with black dye to turn the white rose black. I pull the note out from beneath the vase gently, being careful not to tear it. It’s typed on a fancy black cardstock, and the text is in a pretty, bold white font that stands out against the black.
Looking forward to seeing you tonight.
I smile brightly. The note is unsigned, but it’s safe to assume that it’s from Asher. I mean, we see each other every night, but tonight, we’ll both be dressed to impress at a Black Enterprises event. He may be looking forward to seeing me, but I’m also looking forward to seeing him, too. I’ve already caught a peek at the tux he set aside for tonight, and my mouth waters at the thought of him in it.
Before I move to get ready, I set the black rose carefully down in the vase. A few drops of the black water hits the table, and when I go to wipe it off with my finger, the dye smudges onto my hands. I glance down at my palms, staring at the inky blackness.
It looks ominous against my pale skin.
Asher sends me a concerned glance when he hears my feet tapping anxiously against the ballroom floor.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I’m helpless to stop it. The nerves have invaded my body, and I’m no longer in control of my actions.
“It’ll be okay,” Asher whispers gently into my ear.
I nod and pull myself together, because I have to.
Asher and I are at Il Nero, one of his newest hotels in New York, where a Black Enterprises employee event is being held. According to him, Black Enterprises holds these shindigs four times a year to celebrate the end of each quarter. Normally, I’d have nerves, sure, but this isn’t normal.
My stomach is churning like it’s been hit by an F5 tornado, and I feel like I’m about to vomit. On one hand, the entire board and CEO of IllumaGen are here, and Asher is about to introduce me to them. On the other hand, this is the last day of the business quarter. That means that Asher’s vote before the Black Enterprises board is set for a week from now, and this is the last day we have to impress them.
And I just happened to stick my nose so far into Owen and Madeline’s business last time I saw them, I can still smell the stench. I hope Madeline made good on her word and talked to Owen on behalf of Asher. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, because they’re both standing with the men from IllumaGen.
Oh, and what’s up with that?
Why do all these companies only put men in positions of power?
Fuck that.
When she sees me, Madeline’s eyes light up, and I’m immediately relieved. I allow some of my stress to escape, glad that at least one of my concerns is partially eased.
“Lucy!” Madeline hobbles over to me, her heavily pregnant belly preventing her from moving any faster. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
My arms wrap around her waist in an awkward embrace given the growing thing in her. “So you don’t hate me?”
She rolls her eyes and says, “How can I hate you when we’ve been having sex, like, twice a day?! Seriously. I thank you. Owen thanks you. My vagina thanks you.”
I curtsy dramatically in my evening gown, causing the high slit to expose even more skin. Madeline shakes her head in mocking disapproval when Asher eyes the visible flesh, sending a jolt of lust soaring through my blood.
It’s only been a few days since my dinner date with Asher and
about a week and a half since I walked in on Asher showering, but I can still remember how long and thick he was in the palm of his hands, how great it felt to come undone before him. For the sake of taking things slowly, we’ve been skirting around what happened, and I’m glad for it… because if he ever brings it up, I won’t be able to hold myself back.
“You two are like a bunch of horny teenagers.” Madeline tuts at us and shakes her head, though her lips are turned up in a smile.
I hip check her. “Says the woman with a vagina that thanks me.”
We’re laughing when Owen approaches us, a relaxed smile on his face. He looks a lot friendlier than the last time we met, so maybe he actually isn’t mad at me. “You look lovely, Lucy.” He kisses my cheek then shakes Asher’s hands. “Asher.”
The four of us head toward the IllumaGen board, where I’m introduced to the C-level officers of the company and a few key shareholders. After the introductions are done, they immediately cut back to their conversation. I frown as they only work to engage Owen and Asher into the discussion, leaving Madeline and I to stand there as mere accessories.
“I propose cutting the research lab in transposable elements. It’s a drain on our resources with little to no gain,” says the CEO.
He’s met with nods from the rest of his board.
Asher turns to me. “What do you think, Lucy?”
My eyes widen, alarmed by the sudden attention on me. I feel like the kid that’s been called on in class because she’s not paying attention. But when I look at Asher, I see that he’s genuinely curious. He wants my opinion on this.
“I-I think it would be foolish to cut off TE research.”
Well, from a limited business standpoint, I suppose I understand why the CEO would suggest this without truly understanding TEs. TE research is still rudimentary, having only been discovered in the 80s. But once more discoveries are made, the possibilities are endless.
I continue, “Hemophilia A and B, predisposition to cancer, severe combined immunodeficiency, and porphyria are just some of the diseases TEs are known to cause. Research in TEs will be vital to curing these diseases.”
When I look at the IllumaGen board, I realize that I’m not convincing them. They make money off of temporary cures, drugs that need to be used over and over again. I need to speak to IllumaGen’s biggest moneymaker—antibiotics.
Holding back a grimace, I say, “Already, we know that transposons in bacteria often carry a gene for antibiotic resistance. Imagine if we can figure out a way to prevent these transposons from transposing.”
“Antibiotics would be able to be used more often, resulting in an increase in sales for us,” the COO finishes for me.
I hate that these men see groundbreaking, potentially lifesaving research as an avenue for profit, but if it means the research will continue, I can’t complain. Science saves lives, but there’s no science without money. It’s irritating, but there’s a reason grant writing is a job.
The CEO studies me for a moment, an odd look on his face, before he says, “So, we’ll have to make budget cuts elsewhere.”
“Not necessarily,” I say, earning his interest. “From what I’m hearing, you treat each field of research as a separate division, but if you treat them as interdisciplinary”—I think of Dr. Dennis Slamon, who developed the breast cancer drug Herceptin on the back of birth control research— “you’ll be able to cut out a lot of iterative work. Less work, less chemicals, and less time equals—”
“Money saved,” interrupts the CFO.
I nod. “Exactly.”
When the conversation continues, Madeline leans into my ear and whispers, “That was amazing!” At my furrowed brows, she explains, “These guys are misogynistic assholes. They’ve never once talked to me other than to say hi. It’s like my opinion doesn’t matter, never mind the fact that I graduated Summa Cum Laude at Wharton while their CFO only graduated Cum Laude.”
I squeeze her hand sympathetically and nod, taking the opportunity to lean into Asher’s side. Business and STEM fields are both male dominated fields, but combine the two, and you’ve got guys like these—assholes that don’t even stop to consider if a woman’s mind has merit. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll see it again.
Asher is surrounded by these type of men through work, yet he’s always been respectful to me. He asked for my opinion, and he’s always valued what I have to say.
How am I just realizing how amazing Asher is? Or have I just been in denial?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Courage and perseverance
have a magical talisman,
before which difficulties
disappear and obstacles
vanish into air.
John Quincy Adams
It’s nearing dinner time when Asher, Owen, Madeline, and I approach the head table. It’s raised above all of the others, like it’s meant for royalty. And I suppose, in this company, the board and CEO are.
We take our assigned seats, and when we settle down, I notice the seat beside René is empty. I haven’t seen Viola around, but I just assumed that she was off somewhere, rating poor girls on their appearances.
One look at René and my stomach is in knots. He has an eager look on his face, which can’t mean anything good is coming. I look away immediately, but he speaks up.
“Lucy, what a wonderful surprise to see you here.”
“Is it?” Asher asks, a warning in his voice. “This is a company event, and we always bring our spouses to events. Lucy will soon be my wife. Her presence shouldn’t be a surprise to any of us.” He narrows his eyes. “But I see your wife isn’t here. Having trouble at home, René?”
“Not at all.” René’s grin spreads wider, his face the unsettling picture of anticipation. “She was feeling under the weather, but luckily, another friend of mine happens to be in town. So, I decided to invite him instead.”
Asher’s eyes are narrowed in suspicion. “Anyone we know?”
René’s grin is so wide right now that it has to be hurting his face. “I don’t think you two have had the pleasure of meeting, but your dear Lucy should know him well.”
I freeze.
It’s someone I know?
I don’t really know anyone.
Aimee? Tommy? Eduardo? Minka? Her lackeys?
They all already live “in town,” and no one from my past has the money to vacation in New York City. So, who else can it be? Asher’s hand grips mine under the table, but I can’t reassure him. Or is he reassuring me? I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. I have no idea who René might have brought.
My mind briefly considers Steve before I dismiss the ridiculous notion. No one knows about him, and I’ve changed my name. There’s no way René could’ve found him.
But I have a sinking feeling about this, even as I open my mouth and casually say, “Oh? What’s this person’s name?”
“Now that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
And for the next fifteen minutes, René has that stupid look plastered all over his face. Even Martin, who is to René what Nella is to Minka, looks uneasy.
“There you are!” René says jovially, just as I’m shoveling lobster bisque into my mouth.
I nearly choke, knowing this has to be his secret guest, but I force myself to swallow. When I lift my head to see who it is, I almost choke again.
Because it’s Steve.
I distantly hear René introduce him to the other executives and their wives, but I’m not paying attention. Asher swings his head to face me, the concern evident, and I can’t give him the reassurance he needs.
He clearly doesn’t know who this is.
No one does, except René, who’s swiveling his head between me and Steve like the only thing that would make this better is a bag of buttery popcorn to contribute to his gut.
My first instinct is to run. To put as much distance between Steve and me as I can.
But then I remember Asher’s words.
Wheneve
r you think about running, please, remember that you didn’t run from me when I was the big bad wolf. You’re braver than you think you are.
Is he right?
Am I brave?
Sitting here, trembling and completely silent, I certainly don’t feel brave.
Asher leans closer to me, his breath light against my ear, and says, “What’s wrong?”
I can’t answer him. I can’t even appreciate his proximity. I’m shaking. I’ve been underplaying my history with Steve in my own mind, mentally denying that I have been the victim of anyone let alone a low life like Steve.
I wore the clothes he had given me like a badge of survival only I recognized, but one look at Steve, and I know that I’m wrong. I haven’t survived anything. I’m still trying to survive. It’s an ongoing process that is quickly approaching its end.
I can wear the clothes and pretend I’m okay. I can brush off a nightmare and say it’s not a big deal. I can convince myself that I’m over it, that I don’t wonder if anything more happened that night and other nights. If he’s touched me before.
But I’d be lying to myself.
Those are all lies I’ve compounded in my head. I haven’t healed. Instead, I ran.
When I catch sight of Asher, who is leaning forward, a scowl on his lips, I know I can’t run any more. He doesn’t know who Steve is, but he knows I’m scared and doesn’t like it. I can see that he’s about to do something about this even if he’s in front of Black Enterprises’ board, and while I want to let him, I can’t allow Asher to sacrifice his company for me.
Not when there’s an alternative.
Not when I can be the person he believes I am.
It’s time to face my past.
My hand automatically reaches for Asher’s knee, squeezing it until he stills.
Asher Black: A Fake Fiance Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 1) Page 24