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.”
“Right, because your type is five foot seven, curvy, and redheaded.”
Conn’s playfulness suddenly evaporates and his jaw ticks with anger. It was a low blow to bring up Nora, but I’m feeling pretty fucking low at the moment. I need to drag someone down into the bowels of the gutter with me.
I think we’ve made it clear I’m a jackass sometimes.
“Sorry,” I mumble. Conn likes to hear about Nora just about as much as I like him to bring up Natalie.
He simply nods and his anger vanishes. That’s probably the thing I admire most about him. He bounces back like a rubber ball and has the biggest capacity to forgive of anyone I’ve ever known outside of our mother. That, and his ability to detach himself emotionally from a situation, evaluating it thoughtfully from all angles. I jump to the worst possible conclusion while Conn sees the best in people until proven otherwise.
“What has she done to get you so twisted? You’re acting like a goddamn lunatic.”
I sigh, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “She hasn’t done a damn thing. It’s all me. Men flock to her like flies on shit and I can’t stand it. I’m irrationally jealous, like on the verge of spending the next ten to twenty in cell block ten of the Illinois State Pen for attempted murder.”
Conn takes the chair across from me. “Jesus, you’re in love with her,” he says incredulously.
I laugh, because it feels like so much more than love. I suddenly wonder if I ever loved Natalie at all. The feelings I have for Alyse are so different, so intense, so consuming, they almost border on obsession. And the thought of losing her to someone else makes me fucking homicidal.
“I am,” I sigh, scrubbing my hand over my face.
“How does she feel?”
God, I wish I knew. “Not sure, but after today, she may never talk to me again. I fucked up big time.”
“What’d you do?”
I stand and pour myself another whiskey in a fresh glass, taking a healthy gulp before answering. “I walked in on my director of finance with his hands all over her, just seconds away from kissing her. Jesus, I could see the lust in his eyes. I have never felt such rage, even when I walked in on Natalie that night. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands, Conn.”
“Oh boy. What happened?”
“He left, unfortunately unscathed. Alyse and I had words. She told me she wasn’t attracted to him and said I could trust her.”
“Oh Christ, Ash. Tell me you didn’t.”
He doesn’t need to ask. He knows exactly what I said, but he’s going to make me speak the words anyway. I look down at my caramel-colored whiskey, which reminds me of Alyse’s eyes.
Warm. Deep. Beautiful.
And full of unknowns that could hurt me.
“I told her trust is earned.”
“Jesus, Asher. You fucking asshole.”
“I know. Trust me. I know.”
“You need to make this right,” he replies adamantly.
“I’ve been trying. She won’t answer my calls or texts.” And part of me even wonders if she’ll show up in the office tomorrow. Hell, she’s probably halfway back to Detroit by now, making arrangements for one of her other auditors to take her place.
Dammit.
“You’re probably one of the most tenacious people I know, Asher. Get on the damn elevator and go down the five floors to her apartment. Make her listen to you.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“Tell her the truth.”
Taking another drink, I savor the bite. “And what’s that?”
“That some other woman permanently fucked you in the head.” I half expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t. He is serious.
“That’s not true.”
“Yeah. It is,” he chuckles. “Look, I know you don’t like me to bring up her name, but Jesus, Natalie did a number on you and I told you last week that you can’t be what Alyse needs until you let that shit go. I know you don’t want to hear it and you may not even believe it’s true, but sometimes you can’t see the forest through the trees, brother. The fact that you just about assaulted a good friend of ours in the other room ten minutes ago says it all.”
I’m silent, which is apparently Conn’s clue to keep talking, even though I wish he’d shut up.
“You have it all backward. Guilty until proven innocent is fucked up and a lonely way to live. Listen, I don’t claim to know exactly how you feel, having the woman you love cheat on you, but not every woman is Natalie. Alyse isn’t Natalie. And you can’t put Natalie’s shit on Alyse like you did today. She’s an attractive woman, Asher, and you’re going to have to deal with that better than trying to take out any guy who looks at her with a little appreciation or you’re gonna find yourself blowing in the wind. Alone.
“I don’t know Alyse all that well, but she doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who would put up with that possessive jealousy bullshit. And in all of my twenty-nine years, I’ve never seen you act like this over a woman, not even when Natalie screwed you over. Alyse is the real deal, Ash. Don’t fuck it up and let the best thing that ever walked into your life walk back out because you can’t get out of your own way.”
I listen to his insightful words and I know he’s right. Then I decide to tell him the other thing that’s bothering me. Hell, I might as well peel all my skin off at once. “She doesn’t know about my…preferences.” That was always an issue with Natalie, even though she pretended to like it at the beginning. Natalie pretended to be a lot of things she wasn’t.
“And you still want that even though it makes you homicidal if another man looks at her? That makes no sense, man.”
I shake my head, because he’s right. It’s a complete contradiction, but it doesn’t change how I feel about either thing. “Yes.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“You’re not going to see shit, brother. Ever.” My glare pulls a laugh from him.
“You know I didn’t trust Natalie from the very beginning, Asher. Everything she did had an ulterior motive. Alyse is not like that. Alyse is real and honest and sincere. If it’s not her thing, I think she’ll tell you.”
I nod, hoping he’s right. “Why do you want me to talk to Natalie so damn bad if you never even liked her?”
“I told you, you need closure. I could give two shits about her. It’s you I care about.” Maybe he’s right. I file that away in my ‘I’ll think about it later’ pile.
“She’s hiding something. Alyse. I just don’t know what.”
“Aren’t we all? Maybe if you open up, she will too.”
“It was a hell of a lot easier when I didn’t have to worry about what a woman thought.”
“Maybe. But nothing truly worth having comes easy.”
True that. And Alyse is absolutely worth having.
Throwing back the rest of my whiskey, I stand, as does Conn. Pulling him in for a quick hug, I can only say, “Thanks, brother.”
And then I’m out the door, but instead of waiting for the elevator, I head toward the stairs, intent on getting to my woman as fast as possible so I can right this wrong that I’ve created.
Conn’s right. My past is fucking up my future.
I can’t let that happen.