Chapter 8
Alyse
It’s Sunday night and I walk into the quiet restaurant asking for Livia at the hostess desk. I’m the first one to arrive so she takes me back to a table for four, leaving menus, along with a wine list, around the square glazed oak top.
Finally deciding on a glass of house Zinfandel, I’ve just placed my order when I see Livia walking toward me, being directed by the cute young blonde working the front. My sister has an armful of magazines and folders along with an iPad.
“Hi,” she says, setting everything down just to my right.
“Hi. That’s a lot of stuff,” I reply, eyeing the three-inch thick stack she’s trying to keep from spilling all over the floor.
She laughs. “Well, we have a lot of stuff to get done. The wedding is in four weeks now.” The waitress comes over to take Livia’s order and she sticks with water.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. She looks good. Really good. Deliriously happy. I haven’t seen or talked to her since Thursday night—the same night Asher took me home directly from the bowling alley and kissed me senseless on my front porch before he drove away, leaving us both aching.
I can still feel his lips imprinted on mine, and his hard, sinewy body pressing me against the wood siding. I didn’t ask him to come in this time and he didn’t push for it either. Though the racy texts he sent me later, and all weekend long for that matter, left no doubt we both want to be in each other’s pants. Big time.
“I feel really good today. I was only nauseous this morning and I’ve actually had an appetite.”
“I’m glad.”
After she gets organized, she turns her piercing gaze to me. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed about Livia and me, it’s that she can read me like a damn good book. I wish I didn’t have these feelings of lingering bitterness toward her. I so want to let them go, but I just…can’t. I want to let her in, but I don’t know how.
I’ve spent so much of my life keeping people out, I’m not sure I know how to let them in. I’m hoping that spending some quality time with her over these next couple months will allow me to finally forgive her. Maybe she’ll even tell me the truth about what actually happened.
A little hypocritical, aren’t you, Alyse? There’s so much about your own past you haven’t even told your own sister.
Fuck off, I tell my conscience. That’s different. Right?
“So, are you settling in?”
Livia was very supportive when I told her Asher hired me for this audit, and she was excited that I’d be temporarily relocating here so we could spend more time together. But I breathe a sigh of relief that she doesn’t ask me about Asher, because I don’t know if she approves of our personal relationship and quite frankly, I still need some time to get my head on straight about where it is I think I’m headed with him. Other than his bed. After these past few days, we both know that’s inevitable.
“Yes, I guess so. I just brought a couple of suitcases and spent the afternoon getting unpacked and picking up a few groceries at the corner market, so it was pretty easy. I start on the project tomorrow.”
I don’t tell her that there was a huge bouquet of wild flowers waiting for me, courtesy of the man I can’t get out of my head for a single solitary second. Or the bottle of champagne I found in the fridge, along with a note that was clearly not business related. Unless that business included getting me underneath him in short order. His romantic side is equally as endearing as his domineering one.
“Are your friends coming?”
“Yeah, they’re running late. They will both be late to their own funerals.” She pauses and I can tell she has something more to say so I wait patiently. “I’m glad you’re here, Alyse.”
“Me too, Libs.” I grab her hand and smile.
Livia looks down like she’s nervous. “Alyse, can I ask you something?”
Uh oh. “Sure,” I respond slowly, drawing out the word. I can’t guarantee you I’ll answer honestly, though.
“Are you doing all right? I mean…really all right? With the breakup with Finn and all?”
Ah, Livia. Always worried about my mental health.
I take a deep breath, followed by a deep drink of my wine. I’m not sure why I can’t just tell her no. I’m not doing all right, and it has nothing at all to do with Finn. I haven’t been doing all right for the last eight years since my boyfriend and the father of my baby went apeshit behind the wheel of a car, trying to kill us, apparently thinking he was better off dead than having a family with me.
Because she doesn’t know about Beck, at least not that he was my boyfriend. She thinks he was a friend’s brother giving me a ride home. And she certainly didn’t know I was pregnant.
My dad was so caught up in his own world, he didn’t give two shits what I did; however, Livia would have never approved of me dating someone who was twenty-two when I was only eighteen. But she wasn’t home much. She worked or went to college and whenever Gray came home, they were inseparable. I didn’t exist. In some ways I feel like Livia deserted me well before she physically left.
So she has no idea why I sank into a deep depression after the accident or why I tried to take my own life not just once, but twice. I lost everything that day and I still don’t understand why. I think that’s the hardest part. Not knowing. I’ve replayed that day hundreds upon hundreds of times, trying to figure out what I missed. Every single time I come up blank.
I absently rub the scar low on my breastbone where the surgeons had to remove my ruptured spleen. In some ways I was lucky that day. I sustained relatively minor injuries. A few lacerations on my face and body, a broken ankle, a ruptured spleen, and of course, a miscarriage because the trauma was likely too great for the baby to handle, they said.
Outwardly, all I have left of that horrific day are a few silvery, ragged scars marring my once-perfect skin. Inwardly, however…those wounds are the most severe. They run far and deep. On some days I feel like they’re still bleeding out. Sometimes I think it’s impossible for the scars on your heart and mind to scab over. They’re the most fragile ones, easy to rip open, so they constantly remain fresh and raw.
Then instead of vomiting everything that I should, I smile and do what I always do.
Lie.
“Yes, I’m really good, Livia. Truly.” I feel my nose grow just a bit and guilt stabs me for the fact that I’m what I hate the most. A hypocrite.
I’m saved from any further probing when I hear laughter at the far end of the restaurant and see two stunningly beautiful women approach us. Livia jumps up and runs to meet them. They hug and giggle. I’m surprised at the tinge of envy I feel. Heather is the closest person I have to a friend. Or Finn. How sad. I’m suddenly consumed by an almost overwhelming sense of loneliness I haven’t felt in a very long time. I don’t like it.
And I vow to find a way to fix it.
“Alyse, this Addy and Kamryn. Guys, this is my sister, Alyse.” I stand and try to shake their hands, but they both race around the table and hug me instead, telling me how happy they are to finally meet me, how much Livia talks about me, how happy they are that I’ll be here for a while. They both go on for what seems like minutes. I can’t help but smile and laugh with them. I can see why Livia likes them.
An hour later, after we’ve chatted and eaten a light dinner, Livia drags out her iPad, pulling up a spreadsheet she’s created. We’re different in so many ways, but the one thing Livia and I always did have in common was the obsessive need to be organized.
“Okay, Kam, were you able to find a venue yet?” Livia asks, feverishly typing on her little keyboard. With such short notice, that was one of the things bound to be difficult. That, and the fact that it’s the holidays in the city, and every hotel ballroom will no doubt already be reserved with holiday parties and other events.
“Jesus, Livia. You owe me big time for this. I must have called a hundred hotels, but you’re in luck. Yes, just on the way over here I heard from the Palmer House. They have one of their smaller ballrooms available, but the wedding rooms are booked and we’ll have to work around the chapel’s availability because there is another wedding that day. I think if you shift the time of the ceremony from five to six o’clock, we could make everything work. And they have a wedding coordinator who can help you manage a lot of the details, like catering, flowers, cake and such.”
“Well, I’m going to have to be as flexible as a gymnast to pull this off.”
“Good, I’m glad you said that, because I gave her my credit card to hold it. She said she had another inquiry just hours ago.”
A look of relief crosses Livia’s face. “Thanks, Kam.”
“Welcome, babe.”
Addy speaks up. “We have appointments on Saturday at two different bridal stores, Livia. You’ll need to buy something off the rack, but the two shops I booked have quite a bit of inventory to choose from, so hopefully you’ll walk away on Saturday with your wedding dress!” Addy squeals, causing the few other patrons in the restaurant to look our way.
“Thanks Addy. I’m sure it will need some alternations with my rapidly growing belly, though. And Lysee,” she says, looking at me, “I’m thinking something simple for you in navy. Your pick. Whatever you like. My treat.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, feeling bad for taking the charity, but grateful I won’t have to find the money for a dress I can’t afford.
Livia bites her lip, running her eyes over the spreadsheet. “Invitations?” She looks at me. Whoops, that was my task and I haven’t even started.
“Sorry, with trying to get everything ready to move here on such short notice, I haven’t had time to start. But I’ll get try to something done by the end of the week.” I’m not sure why I’m tasked with invitations. I don’t have a creative bone in my body and the thought of having to come up with something worthy of Livia’s wedding is freaking me the hell out.
“I would love to do that,” Addy pipes up. “I mean, if that’s okay, Alyse. I really love that stuff. Maybe we could swap and you could take the task of finding a photographer instead. Plus, you’re good at negotiating. I’m good at design. There are only a couple that are still available that day so all you need to do is maybe meet with a each one and pick the best.”
“Sure,” I reply, relieved. “That sounds great. You okay with that Libs?”
“Of course. We have the same tastes. I trust you.”
“Thanks.” Those simple words slice me like a hot knife through butter. At least she trusts me with something.
We spend another hour going through wedding minutia. By the time we’re finished and I head back up to my apartment, I’m bone tired. I spent long hours Friday and Saturday trying to get everything in the office and at home pulled together for my absence. I told Heather I’d be back once every two weeks or so for a day or two, though. I just can’t disappear when I have a business to run and I can’t run it all remotely. I was thrilled that we did land that other new client, but that meant I had to work up a contract, timeline, and details for that audit before handing it over to Tabitha.
I need a drink and a bath, in that exact order.
______________
When I open the front door, I’m met with the fragrance of lavender from the candle I left burning on the counter. Other than the small light that I left on over the stovetop, that’s the only light that spills through the dark room.
I walk over to the counter and drop my purse and keys down, spotting the card Asher personally wrote for me, tacked to the champagne. Picking it up, I read his innuendo-filled words and once again grow wet. That seems to be my perpetual state of late.
My sweet Alyse,
Welcome to Chicago. I very much look
forward to collecting on my bet. Soon.
Yours,
– Asher
After pouring myself a flute of bubbly, I head into the bathroom, run a bath, and a few minutes later I’m sinking into the pool of heated goodness with a sigh. Leaning back, I take a sip of the smooth, fruity wine and remember the side bet Asher and I made during the most competitive game of laser tag I’m sure was ever played by a group of twenty-nine and thirty-year-old men.
“We betting the same thing?” Conn asks, smugly. I’m not sure I’ve seen another look on him besides cocky. I wonder how many women he’s both sucked in and turned off with that arrogance.
“Always,” Asher responds. “Gray, you in?” he yells across the small room where we were all putting on vests of some sort. I can’t get mine figured out, so Asher turns to help me.
“Hell yes,” Gray replies. Even Livia is playing. She’s paired up with Gray, as I am with Asher, but she clearly knows how to use these things that I imagine might feel like a bulletproof vest.
“What about you, Luke? You game?” Asher asks, turning to his older brother.
“You’re going down, little brother.” Luke smirks, his dark, unruly hair tucked behind his ears. God, Luke is sexy with his brow piercing and tats. Every time I look around at these men who are the epitome of raw masculinity and sexuality, it’s as if I’ve been dropped into some type of erotic fantasy. The only thing that could be better is if they all ran around shirtless. Or naked. I don’t judge.
“I don’t think so,” Asher coos.
As they trash talk, I can’t help but smile at their excitement. They’re like a bunch of ten-year-olds getting ready to skim through their first Playboy. It’s hilarious, actually.
“What’s the bet?” I ask, looking up into Asher’s face, which is now so close I could reach up on my tiptoes and capture his mouth with mine. I mentally clip the wings of the butterflies in my stomach so they’ll settle down.
“We have a family house on Mackinac Island. Whoever wins gets it over New Year’s Eve.”
“Isn’t it big enough for all of you to go?”
“Yeah, but…”
“Ah, say no more.” I laugh. Privacy and all that.
“It’s a great place to be. No matter the weather, Main Street is always hopping and, of course, they have their famous Great Turtle Drop at midnight. When we were kids, we used to go there almost every single year.” He smiles and gets a faraway look in his eyes, as though he’s recalling a particular happy memory.
“What’s the Great Turtle Drop?”
“It’s like the ball drop in Times Square, just with an ugly lighted turtle instead. Not a real one, of course. Very popular with the tourists.”
“Sounds fun,” I reply quietly. My melancholy returns with a vengeance. I wish I had good memories like that. Sadly, the only vacation I took as a child was the one time we went to Cedar Point amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio when I was nine. I got sick on a rickety wooden roller coaster and we had to come home early.
He finally has me all buckled in when he pulls me close, smashing the little plastic thingies on the front of our vests together. Those damn butterflies take flight again, the clipping apparently failing. Leaning down, he asks quietly, “Wanna make a side bet?”
I’m breathless. “Like what?”
“Yes or no, Alyse?” Oh my God, his bossiness zips straight to my pussy every single time.
“Okay.”
He palms my neck, pulling my ear to his mouth. “When we win, you’ll let me do anything I want to that sexy body. Whenever. Wherever.”
Oh. My. “That…” I swallow thickly. “…leaves things pretty wide open.” My mind is racing a hundred miles an hour trying to picture the carnal ways he’ll play my body when I least expect it.
“Anticipation heightens the senses, Alyse.” His lips graze the sensitive skin underneath my ear as he speaks. He could get me to do anything when he does that and I think he already knows it. I’ve decided there must be a yes button implanted along the column of my throat, the secret switch only responds to him. Dull teeth nip my lobe and I suck in a breath. “Say yes.”
I’m weak. Oh so very weak.
“Okay. But we won’t win. Conn has beat you five years in a row and now you’re stuck with dead weight.” Why does it disappoint me to think that Asher won’t have the chance to make good on his promise?
Pulling back, I see the smugness has now spread from Conn to Asher like a virus. “Oh, we’ll win, baby. I’ve never had so much incentive in my entire fucking life as I do this year.” He winks, kissing me quickly on the lips.
And with that, the tall, lanky, pimply teenager manning the game glides into the small dark space, gives us instructions, makes sure we all know how to use our guns, and sets us loose in a darkened room that reminds me of a cheap western movie set, complete with painted pressed wood and glow paint.
I’ve never seen someone so focused on winning before and I never really understood true sibling rivalry until I saw the four of them in action. They all even brought their own black facemasks, which made them look like a bunch of bank robbers. About halfway through our allotted time, Livia and I hunkered down in a corner and tried to stay out of the melee. They all came out with a few scratches, but Asher could’ve cared less.
He won.
By ten points.
My cell, which I’ve laid on the side of the tub, begins to ring. I practically squeal when I see it’s Asher. I have no freaking idea why I’m acting like a besotted teenager around him and how I so quickly went from trying to fight this to caving in like wet sand.
“Hi,” I answer breathlessly.
“Hi yourself.” His voice sounds sweet, decadent. Like warm melted dark chocolate over sea-salted caramel. “Just wanted to see if you you’ve settled in okay.”
“I did. Thanks for the flowers. And the champagne.” And the reminder that at some unknown point in the near future you’re going to be doing some unknown wicked things to me.
“You’re welcome, gorgeous.”
“Do you do that for everyone who stays here?”
“Only the hot ones,” he chuckles.
“Wow. I feel special.”
“You are, Alyse,” he says quietly, sincerely.
Swoon.
“I should have called or texted earlier, but I had to unpack and get some food and meet Livia and her friends for dinner and wedding planning and time just slipped away from me, so…” I’m rambling, stupidly. I always ramble when I get nervous.
He laughs. “It’s fine.” Pausing, he adds, “Is it wrong that I miss you so much and it’s only been three days?”
I sigh and smile, my insides quivering. My nipples have hardened to sharp points. “You miss me?”
“Yes. Very much,” he rasps. Clearing his throat, he says, “So…what are you up to now?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you,” I tease.
“Oooohhh. Do tell. Are you doing something naughty?”
“Ah, not at the moment.” Unless the fact my free hand is now slinking underneath the water to the juncture of my thighs counts.
“Are you naked?” His raspy voice drops an octave and it feels like he just rubbed his whiskers over my clit.
I hesitate for several moments before responding. “Yes,” I whisper.
“Fucking hell, Alyse,” he groans, lust thickening his voice. “Are you in bed, baby?”
“No. Bath.” I close my eyes, wondering what the hell I’m doing. I could have just as easily told him I was sitting on the couch in mismatched pajamas with my glasses on and my hair in a messy bun, but nooooo…
“Christ, baby.” He sounds in physical pain. I don’t know why, but it makes me smile. And the fact that he’s used endearments several times has not gone by without notice. “Is your hand on your pussy?”
“Asher…”
“Yes or no?”
Damn, he’s bossy. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Yes,” I barely mutter.
“Are you thinking of me?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“Make yourself come. I want to hear you.”
Why does he make me crave following every single command, like I’d drop dead on the spot if I disappointed him? “Asher, I—”
“Alyse, you said yes.”
“I didn’t know saying yes would mean I’d have to follow your every whim,” I snip with more ire than I’m feeling. I want to do this probably more than he wants me to, but I also need him to know he doesn’t control me.
“You should have asked more questions then, I guess.” I hear the smile in his voice.
“You were stealing my thoughts.”
“Now you know what I’ve been going through,” he replies. Softly. Earnestly. And suddenly my lust is back with full force. “Now, put me on speaker so you don’t drop your phone in the water.”
I do. Silently.
“You there, baby?”
“Yes.”
“Touch yourself, Alyse. I want to hear your voice hitch when you come. Fuck, I want to hear you moan my name when you fall apart.”
My eyes tumble closed as my hand once again reaches my clit. Even though I’m in the bath, I feel my arousal, thick and silky. My body instinctually responds to Asher’s voice, his dirty words. Him.
“Pinch your nipple,” he demands. I do.
“Tell me how it feels.” I hear his breathing speed up, becoming choppy.
“Good. So good,” I whisper.
“Imagine I’m sitting behind you and it’s me fingering you. I’m thrusting one, now two fingers inside your tight, wet pussy, Alyse. My cock is pressing between your ass cheeks, wanting inside. Fucking hell, I want you.”
“Jesus, Asher…” My breaths are now coming in shallow gasps at the sound of his barely restrained voice. My touch brings me closer to the high I need to reach, like an addict. Normally it would take me several minutes and many dirty fantasies to make myself come, but I was already halfway there before I even laid a finger to my aching flesh.
“Tell me you’re close, baby. I want to come together,” he pants.
I whimper. Oh God. That’s all I needed to hear. Imagining Asher on the other end of this phone firmly grasping his thick cock while listening to me get myself off throws me headfirst into an intense climax. I cry out his name as hot sparks shoot from the center of my body outward, heating each limb, flooding my body with pure euphoria.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” his low curses and guttural cries join mine until finally we’re both spent and grow silent, except for our ragged breathing. I’ve sat in the bath so long the water is now chilling. Once the heat from my orgasm abates, I’ll be shivering.
“Alyse.” His rough, gravely voice wraps around me, providing me much-needed warmth.
It takes several moments before I’m able to physically respond. “Hmmm,” is all I can manage.
“Why did it take me so long to find you again?”
My heart stutters and my eyes fly open. I think I felt a little part of my soul pass through the phone line into him. I don’t know how he keeps doing that. A simple word here, a reverent look there. Pretty soon I won’t have any of myself left to hold back, because he’ll have it all. Why him? Out of all the men I’ve dated since Beck, how can Asher Colloway do this to me?
“I wish it didn’t.” That’s probably the most honest thing I’ve said to anyone in a very long time. I’ve often thought of the day I almost lost my virginity to Asher. Instead it was Beck.
“God, I wish I was there with you.”
“Me too,” I tell him softly.
We’re quiet for a minute or two, but it’s comfortable. Relaxing. “You should get out of the bath before you get too cold. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”
I want to say so much in response to that. Like, am I really your baby? Don’t you think this is moving way too fast? Are you freaking the fuck out like I am? But I don’t. Instead I say, “Okay.”
“Sleep tight, my sweet Alyse.”
“You too.”
Sitting in the now-cool water, I’m cloaked in goose bumps, but with my body sated and my brain in a whirl, I can’t seem to make myself move. This feels like it’s moving too fast, but at the same time it has been a long time coming. With each passing day and every interaction, Asher burrows further and deeper into my mind and my heart and I have no idea how to stop him.
I don’t even think I want to anymore.