by Claire Adams
“You’re ready. You can do this,” I encouraged myself one last time as I stared into the mirror.
I strode out of the bathroom, exuding as much confidence as I could muster. While I may have felt nervous inside, it would not do to show it on the outside.
Calm, collected, confident. This was the image I needed to pull off at the moment. I picked up the folders I needed from my desk and headed into the hallway.
I strode into the conference room with a sense of purpose and an invisible strength as I held my head high and kept my posture ramrod straight. I went straight to my spot at the table, arranged my files neatly in front of me, and took a seat while those around the table carried on conversations.
Moments later, Asher entered the room and the buzzing of banter that had been bouncing around the table fell silent. A sudden rush, an undeniable attraction to the sheer power he exuded, washed over me. It wasn't merely his strong physical presence or his rugged, strong-jawed good looks—it was the fact that this man, at the young age of thirty-two, was able to silence a room of men and women who were, in some cases, twice his age, by merely entering the room. And there was no resentment or jealousy simmering in that silence; there was only a deep, reverent respect for an immensely intelligent, talented, and driven individual who led from the front of the battle lines. To put it in simple terms, it was hot.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, “thank you all for being here. I'm not going to waste any time beating around the bush. We have important matters to attend to and first and foremost among those is the Harry Winston campaign. Now, the newest addition to our team, Ms. Lilah Maxwell, has prepared a presentation on how she believes we can turn this currently unsuccessful campaign around.”
He looked straight at me. “Lilah, are you ready?”
I nodded and stood up. “I am, Mr. Sinclair. Thank you.”
“Excellent. Well, ladies and gents, without further ado, I give the meeting over to Ms. Maxwell.”
There was a polite round of applause as I stepped around to the front of the table in a position at the head of the room.
“Thank you, everyone,” I said. “Before I begin, I'd like to thank Mr. Sinclair for giving me the opportunity to join this prestigious team. It is my hope that with the ideas contained in this campaign proposal that Mr. Sinclair's decision to appoint me to this position on the team will be validated.”
I picked up the remote control and dimmed the lights in the room before I fired up the projector. I glanced around at each person at the table. When I came to Asher, our eyes met and he gave me a warm, approving nod. With me heart in my throat, I began my presentation.
It felt as if it had taken barely no time, but half an hour had passed when I brought up the final image and delivered my last line. I stopped speaking, and for a few tense moments a heavy, almost tangible silence filled the room.
And then it happened.
One of the senior members of the team—a woman in her late forties—started to applaud. Soon everyone else followed suit. I looked across at Asher, and he too was applauding with a smile of approval. A heady rush of adrenalin mixed with pride and satisfaction was rippling through my veins. The competitor in me wanted to jump up and down like I’d just scored the winning touchdown in a playoff game. It was all I could do to hold myself back from doing just that.
Instead, I calmly closed my presentation on the projector, turned the lights up again, said a quiet thank you, and went back to my seat where I turned on my tablet so that I could take notes from the next speaker's presentation.
Inside, however, I felt as if fireworks were exploding. I couldn't believe I had pulled it off so flawlessly; everything, and I mean everything, had gone exactly according to plan. It felt surreal, almost dream-like, and I knew that I had to celebrate after work, even if it was a Monday.
After the meeting was over, and everyone was gathering their things together and leaving the room, Asher approached me.
“Your presentation was absolutely outstanding,” he said. “Seriously. I think you blew everyone in the room away with that. You've gone above and way beyond what anyone expected of you. I have no doubt that these amazing ideas you have are going to turn the Harry Winston campaign entirely on its head.”
I was ablaze with pride and excitement at his praise, which I sensed was absolutely genuine—even though it felt as if there was something beyond mere professional respect in the way Asher was looking at me when he said it.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Si—, I mean, Asher.”
“I'm just telling the truth. I genuinely believe the ideas you presented today are some of the freshest ideas we've seen at Sinclair for, well, for years, to be honest. As a matter of fact, you kind of remind me of myself in my younger years.”
I laughed. “Thanks, Asher. But there's no need for you to talk like you're an old man or something; you're only thirty-two, you know.”
He chuckled. “Sometimes I feel twice that age, though. Remember, I've been doing this since I was twenty. There are times I feel like I missed out on my twenties completely, started my thirties right out of college, and am now living in my forties!”
“Come on now, you’re much too good looking to be in your forties,” I countered playfully.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he replied with a grin. “Look, I know it's a Monday, but how would you feel about a drink or two after work to celebrate the success of your presentation? And, by that, I don't mean we're going to hammer away two bottles of wine again! Just a drink or two, seriously.”
“You must have been reading my mind,” I exclaimed. “Is that a trick that samurai master taught you?”
He grinned. “Wouldn't you like to know?”
“As a matter of fact, I would,” I laughed again, feeling very at ease in his company. “Jokes aside though, how would you feel about a little extra company at this celebration? My brother Eddie told me if my presentation went well today he wanted to buy me a drink. I mean, he was kind of an idol of yours when you were a young lad, wasn't he?” I cocked an eyebrow and gave him a half smirk.
Asher grinned. “The lead guitarist of The Razor's Edge? Seriously? How could I not want to have a beer with him?”
I almost said, “I've told him all about you already,” but I managed to bite my tongue.
“Great,” I replied. “How does eight o'clock at McGinty's Pub downtown sound?”
“That sounds perfect. I'll see you there. Until then, more work to get through. There are still four working hours left in the day and we have to try to get as much done as possible in that time, right?”
“Right. I'll see you later this evening.”
***
“Remember, Eddie, don't tell him I've talked to you about him before all right?”
Eddie grinned. “Don't worry, sis, I've got this.”
I saw Asher enter the bar as I looked over Eddie’s shoulder. “Here he is now! Act normal!”
“Uh, I am, Peanut. You on the other hand…”
“Shh! Don’t call me that.”
Asher approached our table with a smile. He was wearing jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was the first time I'd seen him not wearing a business suit, and he almost looked like a different person—although the sense of effortless style was undeniably his.
Eddie stood to greet him, offering him a hand, which Asher shook firmly.
“Edward Maxwell,” Eddie said. “But my friends call me Eddie.”
“Asher Sinclair,” said Asher. “My friends call me Ash. Pleased to meet you! I hope I don't sound too dorky when I say this, but I'm a huge fan of your music.”
Eddie grinned.
“Thanks, man! Never thought I'd have a CEO of a Fortune 100 company saying that to me!”
Asher laughed. “I was a teenager once,” he said with a smile, “and I still have a soft spot for punk—although I don't know if that's what I'd call your latest offerings.”
“Yeah, we've been pl
aying around a lot with folk chords and melodies in recent years. Going for a more mature sound, I guess you could say.”
“And, I think I speak for both myself and other fans when I say, we really appreciate it,” commented Asher. “It shows a depth of musical understanding and how you guys have evolved as a band over the years. I mean, the latest album has such a great, organic feel-”
I stood which interrupted them. As nice as it was to see them hit it off so quickly, I didn't want to sit around all night listening to them jabbering on and on about music.
“Guys, I hate to interrupt, but how about we get a few beers, huh?”
Asher smiled. “Of course. We are here to celebrate the successful presentation you gave earlier, so let's get on with it. First round is on me. What are you two having?”
“Guinness for me; thanks, man,” replied Eddie.
“Make that two,” I said.
“Ah, Guinness drinkers, huh? Is there Irish blood in your family?” asked Asher.
“A fair bit of it!” Eddie replied with a laugh.
Asher went off to the bar to get the drinks, and I leaned over to Eddie.
“So? What do you think of him?”
“He seems like a good dude,” he remarked, “as far as first impressions go anyway. It's still hard to believe that a suit like him is a big fan of my band.”
“Come on, Eddie. He's not your average suit, you know.”
“I know, I know. You know what I mean, though—corporate types aren't exactly what make up the majority of the punk rock fan base. Still, seems like a nice guy so far.”
Asher returned carrying three pints of Guinness, so Eddie and I paused our conversation.
“Thanks,” Eddie said as he took a beer from Asher. “I'll get the next round.”
Asher sat down and raised his pint.
“Here's to Lilah,” he said, “and her amazing presentation today, which I firmly believe is not only going to salvage my firm's reputation with the Harry Winston Company, but will also make us a very decent profit in the process.”
“To Lilah,” Eddie repeated as he clinked his glass against Asher's.
“Aw, thanks, guys,” I replied as clinked my glass against each man's. “I appreciate that. Now, let's drink to a year of success ahead for all of us!”
“I'll drink to that!” exclaimed Eddie, and we all laughed and raised our glasses together.
After two more pints, I was starting to feel a little buzzed, so I decided to call it quits for the evening. Conversation had been flowing smoothly all night, especially between Asher and myself—a little too smoothly. Add in the heated eye contact that lasted a little longer than it should have each time, and I was determined not to allow a repeat of the poor decision I’d made with him the last time we’d been together in a public setting outside of work.
As attractive as I found him, I didn't want a repeat of the last experience—especially not with my boss. I was on top of my game at work, and I didn't want to be put in a position where that could be compromised. I couldn't afford to let emotions get in the way of my career success—not at this stage of the game.
“All right, guys, I think it's about time that I call it a night,” I announced.
“Are you sure?” Eddie asked with a grin. “Hell, I was just getting started!”
“I'm sure you were, Edward,” I replied with a smile. “Some of us have normal jobs that start at eight in the morning as opposed to two in the afternoon.”
“You squares and your routines,” he chuckled with a wink. “All right, all right.”
“Can I give you a ride home?” Asher asked.
“No, it's fine,” I replied. “Eddie's already said he's giving me a ride, right, Ed?”
I kicked Eddie's leg subtly under the table.
“Oh, yeah, yeah. Don't worry, man, I've got it. I’m just gonna finish up this beer and I’ll give her a ride home.”
“All right,” Asher conceded with a smile that came across as a little disappointed. “Well, it has been fun. Again, well done on the presentation earlier, Lilah, you totally killed it. I'm really looking forward to seeing how your ideas perform in practice. I'm dead sure they're going to be a runaway success. And, Eddie, it was awesome to meet you. I think I'm going to listen to a bit of Razor's Edge on the drive home, actually.”
“Right on, man!” Eddie said with a smile as he reached over to shake Asher’s hand.
“Thanks, Ash,” I offered as he stood.
He gave both of us a wave.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening, you two,” he said. “And, Lilah, I'll see you at the office tomorrow.”
With that, he left—and left me thinking about all sorts of possibilities.
CHAPTER 9
Asher
Rejected.
Not exactly an occurrence I was accustomed to. But that’s exactly what had happened.
Despite how well we'd gotten along, how easily we'd conversed, not to mention the smoldering looks that had passed between us—at the end of the night, she'd suddenly flipped the cold switch and that was that. I admit, I had hoped to get a chance to drive her home, but she'd declined—politely, but still, it had been a rejection. No point in sugarcoating it.
And so, I drove home alone with my thoughts and my music. Thoughts that couldn’t find their way to anything other than Lilah Maxwell. What was it about her that had me so captivated?
It wasn't that I'd wanted a repeat of our too much wine kiss to happen. All right, maybe part of me did, but it wasn’t just a physical connection I was craving with this woman. No. It was the conversation and energy between us that I wanted to keep going.
It had been ages since I’d last felt connected so intensely with anyone, female or otherwise. The fact that she was a physically stunning, intelligent, and sensual woman was merely icing on the cake. Sweet, sultry icing.
But the fact that I was physically attracted to her wasn't the sole reason I wanted to spend more time with her. I just enjoyed being around her.
“I guess maybe it's a good thing,” I said aloud as I watched the lights of the city fade in my rearview mirror and started the ascent into the hills outside of the city limits. I tended to talk to myself more often than I cared to admit. Hazard of being a bit on the private side—I didn’t let too many people get close to me. That meant I didn’t have too many close friends. The few I had, I didn’t see as often as I once did. And so, I sometimes talk to myself. It helps me work through the chaos that happens in my head.
“Maybe she doesn't want things to move too fast,” I considered. I guess I didn't, either. The difference, though, was that I wasn’t so sure she wanted things to move at all—while I certainly did. And that was rather disappointing. Almost made me wish I hadn’t even gone to McGinty’s.
Make no mistake, I'd had a great evening with Lilah and her brother. Meeting Eddie had been awesome on many levels. It brought back all sorts of memories from my teenage years—memories of my rebellious phase before the responsibilities and duties that came with my family name and fortune had forced me to grow up all too quickly.
I was listening to my favorite Razor’s Edge album when I finally pulled off the main road onto the drive that led to my estate. I still thought of my grandfather every time I pulled into the driveway. Grandpa always told me to treat my private life like a treasure, those who are close to you and love you mean more than any amount of money and any publicity your position could bring you.
I bought the land a year after he died and took his advice to heart when I made sure the house wouldn’t be visible from the road by leaving a considerable amount of forest at the front end of the property. In doing so, the gate protecting the drive was also a few hundred feet from the main road and not visible, but it was there and it was guarded. I waved at Adam, the night guard, as I slowed to a stop and waited for him to open the large, wrought-iron gate.
Adam was a former Army Ranger. When I hired him, I tried to entice him to be part of my security team that trav
eled with me when I had to travel abroad, but he’d turned the offer down. He didn’t want to be away from his wife for extended periods of time. I admired that about him and even envied him. Having someone in your life you don’t want to be away from even for a few nights, that’s more enviable than all the power and prestige I could think of. Adam smiled as soon as he recognized my face and returned the hand gesture. The gates slowly began to swing open.
A deer stepped out of the trees, followed by her fawn, just as I was almost through. I pressed the brake and let them pass in front of my Maserati before I drove in. There were a few gaps in the fence around the estate—gaps I'd specifically requested be left so that wildlife from the neighboring woods could come and go through the grounds as they pleased. Granted, it meant if someone wanted to get in, they could, but they would have to do some serious walking to find the gaps.
Once I’d parked my car in the underground parking lot where I kept my collection of sports cars, I grabbed my briefcase and laptop and started toward the elevator that would take me up into my home. I paused as I passed a white Lamborghini from the ’80s—one of my favorites. I glanced at myself in the window.
“What's going on in your head, Asher?” I asked my reflection.
I wasn't quite sure of the answer, but I did know that Lilah was spending a good deal of time in there. With a quick shake of my head, I made my way to the elevator and tried to turn my thoughts to other things, like the work I needed to get done before my next meeting with my advisory board.
I pressed the button for the top floor—my private space consisting of my bedroom, a private living room, a small office where I could work from home if I needed to, and, of course, my bathroom. I wanted to think about work, but I couldn’t. More than anything, I needed to properly relax, to try to get all of the distracting thoughts out of my head so I could get a good night's sleep and be fresh and energized for the rest of the week. A week that promised to be relentlessly busy. On top of everything, I had an upcoming business trip to Paris on Friday that I'd needed to think about.