When the intercom sounded, she was standing next to it.
“Come up,” Abi said.
She opened the heavy security door she’d installed and waited by the elevator for him to arrive. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she wanted to rewind time, wanted to be back in the ruins with Asher where the outside world ceased to exist.
The doors opened, and the moment she looked at him she forgot about herself. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he looked like he hadn’t slept properly in days—and she supposed he hadn’t, not since the night Noah died.
He gave a small smile that Abi thought was forced. She couldn’t be sure, though. Maybe he was just plain exhausted.
“Hey,” he said, standing in front of her. He didn’t take her hands, didn’t draw her in, but his eyes weren’t blazing angry, so Abi assumed he didn’t know the truth yet.
“Hey. Come inside,” she said, then looked behind him.
“This is Jesse,” Asher said, and Abi nodded. The air between them was thick, and it was going to be a strange conversation with Jesse watching them.
“He needs to scope the apartment, then we can talk privately,” Asher said, apologetically.
“Sure,” Abi said, stepping aside. Did Asher somehow know her apartment had been searched? How would he know, though, if he didn’t know her surname?
Maybe he did and he wasn’t even angry. Maybe she didn’t mean that much to him, and he had come purely to wipe his hands clean of her.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Jesse said as he walked past them.
“Does he always do this?” Abi asked.
Asher shrugged casually, but it didn’t match his tense mood. “New protocols for the family.”
He didn’t elaborate, and Abi didn’t ask him to, even though she thought it was odd.
“So whose apartment is this?” Asher asked, looking through the security door and into the living room behind Abi.
“This is Abigail’s,” Abi said with a sad smile.
Asher nodded. “That’s a serious security door.”
“It is,” she said vaguely.
He watched her carefully.
Jesse emerged. “It’s all good. I’ll wait here. Take as long as you need,” he said to Asher.
Asher nodded and Abi led him inside, after which Asher surveyed the apartment.
“I think Abigail has more expensive taste than Rian,” he noted.
“This is my main apartment, so, yes. Quite a bit more expensive,” she said.
Asher looked into her eyes. “Why won’t you tell me who you are, Abi? I understand the risks, but I need to know who you are. I can’t have people around me I don’t trust.”
Abi sighed. “I just want to say this first. I never meant for things to move so quickly between us. I thought, even after you kissed me, that the romance would die out—that you wouldn’t really be interested in me for long. I never meant to hurt you, Asher. I swear on my life. And then . . . then I was afraid if I told you the truth, you’d leave and I’d never see you again . . . and you would cut all ties with IFRT. But I always knew this moment would come.”
He visibly swallowed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t understand.”
Abi looked away, and then forced herself to look at him.
“My name is Abigail . . . Bennett,” she said, forcing the words from her lips.
Asher recoiled like she’d stung him. His jaw fell open. “You can’t be. I know her.”
“You knew her when she was a child,” Abi said, talking fast. “I know, I know it’s bad.”
“Bad! Are you insane? Ah, fuck!” Asher swore, beginning to pace. “Now it all makes sense,” he said, not bothering to hide his disgust.
A wave of nausea rolled through Abi, and she felt like she was rolling with it.
“You’re William Bennett’s daughter?” he asked, his voice scathing. “Don’t you think that’s something you should’ve told me? My father will see this as a betrayal, as will yours, no doubt! If I had known, I would’ve stopped this. I would never have kissed you. What am I supposed to do now?” Asher demanded with furious eyes.
“I know, Asher,” Abi said quickly. “Please, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Things just . . . moved faster than I realized. Somehow you ended up becoming the person I think about all the time, and I—”
“Don’t!” Asher said with a violent shake of his head, holding out his hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“This is not about our fathers,” she urged. “This is about us. We are not defined by them; we do not have to repeat their mistakes.”
“You’re not who I thought you were, and I don’t just mean your surname,” he said harshly. His eyes were hard, piercing her soul. “I thought you were good; I thought you were everything I had been looking for—but you’re just a liar. Another liar in this godforsaken world.”
She recoiled at his words. Did he really mean that? Or was he not thinking straight with everything he’d been through over the past week? He turned his back on her and left.
“This is exactly why I didn’t tell you!” Abi yelled after him. “Because you would judge me by your father’s opinion of my father—not by who I am, or the good I’ve done!”
Asher stopped, but only for a moment.
He continued toward the elevator, and Abi didn’t run after him.
They were never meant to be.
She heard the elevator doors open and she buried her face in her hands.
It was done, and it had turned out exactly how she’d always known it would. Abi’s dream of fixing the feud had been just that—a dream. She hadn’t even had the chance to tell Asher, but she knew it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to hear it.
She wiped her wet cheeks with her sleeve, but more tears came.
She felt empty and alone—for what was perhaps the first time.
Asher
Asher was seething as they drove back to the palace. Jesse was behind the wheel, and Asher felt his eyes glance sideways. Jesse hadn’t asked Asher what had happened at Abi’s apartment, but Asher sensed he knew. He’d likely been listening in on the conversation.
“Did you know who she was?” Asher asked, not hiding the accusation from his voice.
Jesse raised his eyebrows. “No, I didn’t. I told you, when people hide their true identity, there’s a reason. That’s why I questioned her.”
“You heard, right? She’s Abigail Bennett,” Asher said, his words burning his throat.
Jesse nodded. “I heard,” he admitted.
“So what do you think of her now?” Asher asked, watching his bodyguard carefully.
Jesse pursed his lips, seemingly surprised that Asher had asked him. “I don’t have an opinion of her.”
He’d lost Noah.
And now he’d lost Abi.
It felt like life kept kicking him, beating him down.
Asher lowered his window, despite the freezing cold air.
When they arrived at the palace, Asher strode ahead, going straight to his living quarters. He walked in and grabbed a bottle of wine, but it never reached his lips.
Jesse was beside him, his fingers wrapped around the bottle. “You will not be like your brother. You’re better than that. Put it down—find another way to deal with your pain.”
Asher glared at him. For someone who never wanted to involve himself, he was overstepping his bounds. But even through his anger, Asher knew Jesse’s intentions were good.
He swore, dropped the bottle of wine—which thankfully Jesse still had hold of—and stormed off. He changed into his gym gear and went to the indoor basketball court his parents had built him. In another life, if he hadn’t been an archeologist, he would’ve been a professional basketball player.
In another life, many things would’ve been different.
Asher grabbed a ball from the rack and stepped out onto the court. He’d played every day as a child. When they weren’t at school, he and Noah had spent every minute they coul
d on the court.
Asher heard footsteps behind him and wasn’t surprised Jesse had followed him. Jesse stepped in front of Asher with daring eyes, and Asher took the invitation. He dribbled past Jesse and took a shot, but Jesse blocked it.
“Not bad for an old guy, huh?” Jesse gloated.
Asher would hardly call him old, but Jesse was about fifteen years older than Asher.
They played on the court, hustling and blocking each other, until they were both short of breath. When they finally stopped, Asher realized he’d managed to forget for a moment—and he wasn’t blindly angry, either. He was hurt, he felt like shit, but he could think straight again. He sat on the court, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Thank you,” Asher said, looking up at him.
Jesse gave a nod. “You’re welcome. You need to find ways of dealing with pressure that don’t involve alcohol, Ash. That tendency runs in your family, but like your father, you’re stronger than that.”
“My father was a hothead who reached for the bottle?” Asher asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jesse smirked. “Don’t tell him I told you that. He found other ways to cope. You will too—and you’re going to need to.”
Asher’s eyebrows threaded together at the serious tone of Jesse’s voice, but he didn’t give it another thought. He was only at the beginning of the grieving process and had a long way to go. Jesse knew that.
Asher sighed. “What a week,” he said, shaking his head.
“Things will get better,” Jesse replied.
Asher scoffed. “Well, they can’t get much worse, can they?”
Jesse didn’t respond, but he held out a hand and helped Asher up.
Asher went back to his room, showered and climbed into bed.
3:30 a.m.
The sun was high when Asher finally awoke. His stomach rumbled and he had an appetite for the first time in days. He threw the covers back, pulled on a T-shirt, and tightened the drawstring of his pajama pants before padding out to the living room where Jesse sat, waiting for him.
“Good morning,” Jesse said.
“Morning. Thank you for last night,” Asher said sheepishly. He was embarrassed, particularly because it had only been a few nights before that Asher had reached for the bottle too. He wondered if someone had ever tried to stop Alistair. Had Alistair not listened? Or had no one been there for his brother in his darkest moments?
“Not a problem,” Jesse said.
“I’m going to order breakfast. Have you eaten?” Asher asked.
“I can eat again,” he said with a smile, which Asher returned. He knew Jesse had probably eaten hours ago.
Asher called the kitchen and ordered breakfast. He read the paper while he waited. War and famine occupied the headlines.
He sighed. They had to do something—he had to do something.
“Is Father in his office?” Asher asked.
Jesse pulled out his phone, looked at an app and then nodded.
“Can you call him and tell him I’d like to see him?” Asher asked, standing.
“Sure,” Jesse said.
Asher went to change while Jesse made the call. Asher had never attended a meeting in his father’s office in his pajamas, and he wasn’t about to start now.
“He’s ready for you,” Jesse called out.
Asher slipped his shoes on and then said, “Thank you.” Breakfast would be waiting for them when they returned.
Asher walked briskly, noticing there seemed to be more staff around today than usual. “What’s going on? Why so many staff today?”
“Your mother is spring cleaning the palace,” Jesse said. “I think it’s one of her ways of coping.”
“Hmm,” Asher said. It made sense.
At his father’s door, he knocked before entering.
“Good morning, Asher,” King Martin said.
“Good morning,” Asher responded, taking a seat opposite his father’s desk. “I want to talk to you about the aid deals I was working on before Noah’s death. I’d like to get back to work and finish the meetings. We need to focus on feeding the people—this famine cannot go on.”
His father gave him a small smile, but more than that, he looked proud. Asher wasn’t sure if he was misreading him, because obvious pride wasn’t something Asher had been exposed to often from the man.
“Good. I think that’s a very good idea. Let me make some calls today; be ready to leave at anytime. I’ll put the plane on standby,” the King said, reaching for the telephone.
“Thank you,” Asher said, excusing himself.
Asher checked his phone as he walked back to his living quarters. He’d forgotten to charge it last night, and it was almost flat. He checked his messages, but there was nothing from Abi.
Of course there wasn’t. After the way he’d unleashed last night, he wasn’t expecting to hear from her. He’d handled it badly—he’d known that even before his temper had cooled. He was grieving and he was exhausted, yes, but those were still excuses. He should’ve handled it better. Abi wasn’t a liar or a bad person—she did so much good for this world, and she had been caught in a hard place.
He replayed their conversation in his mind. Despite it all, he wished he could take back his words. He wished his voice hadn’t been so scathing; he wished he’d just walked out of her apartment after she’d told him her name.
He tried to put himself in her shoes. Would he have made the same choices she had?
Now he understood the fleeting flashes of guilt in her eyes. Now he understood her apprehension when the security guard at the ruins had almost recognized her.
But his understanding had come all too late.
What would he have done if she’d told him outright? He didn’t know; he might still have become involved in IFRT.
The people needed IFRT—it was a good cause.
Someone needed to do the dirty work his family couldn’t be seen doing. It wasn’t the work IFRT did that caused issues, it was the complications that arose from it—like killing Adani civilians on the side of the road.
Asher sighed. It was a mess. The entire thing was a mess, and Asher didn’t know what to do. Normally, he’d talk to Noah; it wasn’t as though Noah was always full of wisdom, but he had always been a good listener and just the process of talking a problem through had always helped Asher.
Instead, he sat and ate breakfast with Jesse, but he hardly tasted his food. At least he could eat today, though.
Asher was drinking the last of his coffee when his phone rang.
“Father,” he answered.
“Asher, six meetings have been set up for the next few days. You’ll receive the itinerary shortly. The plane is ready, and you’re due to leave in two hours. I’ve arranged Troy to travel with you as witness and to advise if you need it, which I doubt you will. Call me if you have any questions. Good luck,” the King said.
“Thank you, Father,” Asher said. Troy was Asher’s cousin—he’d had full military and political training and had accompanied the King on diplomatic visits before. Asher wasn’t surprised his father had chosen Troy to accompany him.
Noah had often accompanied Asher on official royal duties, more so for the fun of it rather than being helpful. Honestly, sometimes Noah had been far from helpful, Asher thought with a smile. Suddenly, tears welled in his eyes as he remembered his brother, but he pushed them away. Life had to go on.
Jesse’s phone sounded. “Troy will meet us at the airport,” he said, his eyes on his phone.
“Sounds good. I’ll change now,” Asher said.
He showered, shaved, and dressed in a navy suit before grabbing his phone charger and laptop. He was ready. In that moment, he realized he barely needed a phone anymore. The only people he spoke to—besides his parents—had been Noah and Abi.
He tucked it into his pocket, refusing to dwell on how lonely his life had become.
“Do you think Father should’ve asked Alistair to join me?” Asher asked quietly as they walked through the
palace halls to the garage.
“Your father knows what he’s doing,” Jesse said cryptically.
Asher eyed him, wondering if that was a strange response. Jesse was unlikely to criticize the King, though, especially to Asher. He wondered why he’d even asked.
Asher read through the various emails his father had sent since the meeting in his office. Each email was a set of notes for each of the meetings Asher would attend, summarizing points to be raised and discussed, as well as monetary deals Asher should negotiate for. As he read through them, Asher’s confidence grew. While some of the figures varied slightly from what Asher had planned to negotiate, they otherwise seemed to be on the same page, and there was nothing his father noted that Asher hadn’t already considered. Asher added a few extra notes to his father’s, barely realizing they were pulling into the airport.
Troy stood on the tarmac waiting for them.
Asher extended his hand as he walked toward him. “Thank you for coming on such late notice.”
Troy beamed a smile. “Not a problem. My condolences, Asher. You’ve had a rough few days . . . but I agree with your father; it’s best to get back to work. When you’re hurting, you need something else to focus on.”
Asher nodded. “It’s going to be a crazy few days.”
Troy chuckled. “When your father plans things, I expect nothing less.”
Asher was glad to have Troy’s company and not Alistair’s. The brothers hadn’t spoken since their showdown; in fact, Asher hadn’t even seen him.
Troy’s political and military experience would be helpful to Asher, however, and he was grateful for some company.
“The pilot is ready,” Jesse said from the top of the stairs.
“After you,” Asher said, gesturing forward.
“Let’s make some deals,” Troy said with a toothy grin.
Abi
BLOOD, LOVE AND LIES (THE ROYALS Book 1) Page 14