Page 10 of From Asher, With Love

“Did you have a chance to speak with Weston Knight? My assistant said he sent her an email and she’s forwarding it to me this morning. I’m assuming that means you talked to him.” I shift the topic to a more pragmatic, business-minded one. Anything to forget the curves of Charleigh’s body and how muscle memory seemed to kick into high fucking gear last night.

“I did.” Holt sniffs. “He’s the reason I had to bail on our meeting last night.”

“Oh?” I raise my eyebrows and give Holt a knowing nod. “I was wondering why you would recommend a client informally without showing up. At least it was for a good reason.”

Holt must sense my bitterness. He gives me a quizzical expression as the creases in his forehead deepen. “You still met up with Charleigh, though, right?”

I move past him and head straight for the elevator, ignoring his interrogation. Well, he’s asking a simple question, but any conversation on the topic of Charleigh is anything but simple. It’s complicated as fuck.

“No.” I glance over my shoulder, shooting him a straight lie. “She didn’t show.” The lie sits like acid on the tip of my tongue, but every aspect of my past burns a piece of my soul. I’ve learned it’s easiest to just ignore.

“That’s strange. Julianna told me she was there. She said she was on the phone with her while Charleigh was looking for you. You must have missed her.”

“Mm,” I hum while passing Janette’s desk outside my office. I don’t acknowledge her on my way out or tell her I’m leaving for lunch. Instead, I glance at my watch to distract myself, realizing we’re leaving for lunch earlier than usual.

“So?” Holt asks once we reach the elevators.

I lean forward and press the call button before shoving my hands in my pockets. I stare up at the light, watching the numbers tick by. “So, what?”

“Did you miss her?”

His question is a heavy weight on my shoulder. I want to shake it off, but I know if I don’t answer him, he won’t let up, and I won’t be able to get my answer about Weston Knight.

I shrug, still unable to look my best friend in the eye. “I guess so.”

“Oh, well, I’ll message my sister and see if we can set up another meeting.” From my peripheral, I watch him tug his phone from his pocket. He’s tapping on the screen as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“You don’t have to do that.” I step inside the four golden walls.

Emotion is thick in my throat. The chambers of my heart and lungs seize with the memories of a tragic past that nearly suffocated me. Suddenly, I’m faced with a cold, hard truth as I stare at my reflection in the elevator’s mirrored wall.

Charleigh is a reminder of the person I used to be, of a life that no longer exists. A life I walked away from. The Asher who once belonged to Charleigh is no more. I haven’t been him for a long time, and I don’t want to be.

“It’s fine,” Holt says. “I’ll text Julianna and see what she thinks.”

My stomach churns.

I close my eyes and am immediately pulled back to last night.

Charleigh’s standing in front of me wearing a bright yellow peacoat and a black skirt. She stood out from the crowd, and if Ihadn’t been so focused on my phone when she walked up to my table, I would have spotted her from a mile away. That part about Charleigh hasn’t changed in ten years—her ability to wear the most obnoxious colors yet still look sexy as hell. Her floral scent surrounded me, making it impossible to concentrate on anything else besides her pink-painted lips and her red, rosy cheeks.

My cock twitches, and I snap my eyes open, forcing myself to shove the memory away.

Fuuuuuuck.

When I look back at my reflection, I see Holt leaning against the back of the elevator.

He’s still typing out a message on his phone as the elevator carries us down to the lobby.

Holt has been a friend of mine since I graduated from UCLA with my bachelor’s before transferring to Columbia for my graduate degree. We were both completely shit faced at a fundraising gala for the New York City Mayor at the time. The mayor who also happened to be Holt’s dad.

Born from generational wealth, Holt is most likely a friend I wouldn’t have imagined having before I became the person I am now. Not because we wouldn’t have gotten along, but because Holt’s world simply never touched the one I had growing up. A world I forced myself to walk away from, even if coping through the trauma of my childhood hasn’t exactly been healthy.

Connecticut left me with deep, gaping wounds, and I searched for every piece of thread I could find to stitch myself back together. If I wasn’t studying my ass off in business school, I was fucking any woman willing to give me the time of day. I haven’t been interested in a relationship in years, and I don’t plan on starting now. Holt should know this… I think.

I haven’t told him about my past, before I came into the wealth I have now. He’s never asked, and I’ve never willinglyoffered it up to him. The dark, ugly pieces of the past are easier to deal with when kept to myself.

If Holt thought last night could possibly be anything other than a business meeting, he was wrong. Very, very wrong.

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