Page 16 of From Asher, With Love

“What the fuck?” I seethe, sitting back in my leather chair as I run a frustrated hand through my hair.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Janette asks.

I keep my eyes trained on the email. This day has turned into an absolute dumpster fire.

“Allen just emailed me to tell me he’s found a better property with Cyrus Temper, and he’s going to close on it next week. Faster than I was able to secure for him with the listings I proposed.”

“Oh.” It’s the only word to fall from Janette’s mouth before her expression slips into a frown. Her eyes shift to the side, avoiding my stare.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Well,” Janette says quietly, her eyes making their way back to me. “On my lunch break, I overheard one of the secretaries for Cyrus Temper talking about Mr. Simon. She mentioned that Mr. Temper told Allen Simon you were increasing your realtor fee and commission by more than fifty percent.”

Heat blazes from my neck to my ears. “What the fuck?” I seethe, standing from my chair. “Did you tell her that was wrong?”

“Of course, I did, but she didn’t believe me,” Janette explains. “I doubt she has little sway persuading Cyrus with the truth since she’s just his secretary.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, raking my fingers through my hair before I slide my palm down my face. “I wish you’d told me this before.”

The idea of losing a client to Cyrus has my anger at an all-time high. Panic sets in, and maybe it’s because I can’t stand losing. I can’t stand the thought of returning to the person who lived out of a fifteen-foot trailer with nothing but the hole-laced shirt on his back.

Cyrus threatens everything I’ve built.

“I’m sorry,” Janette apologizes. “I should have told you.”

“It’s fine,” I mutter, waving her off. “I’ll figure it out.”

She gives me a sympathetic look before turning on her heel and leaving me in the heavy silence of my office.

I’m staring out my window and out at the city. Every day, it looks the same, yet every day is different—much like my job. I didn’t get to where I am now by letting clients slip through my fingers. Especially when it comes to competition such as Cyrus Temper.

He’s well regarded in the real estate world, and one of the top executives in New York. He’s old enough to be my father. Hell, probably even my grandpa. And I know Cyrus doesn’t back down from a client, but neither do I. Liquid heat courses through my veins.

With fear of losing Allen setting in, I dial his number, hoping to straighten out any misinformation. The last thing I need is losing out on a multi-million-dollar deal because Cyrus can’t keep his greedy fucking mouth shut from all the lies he spews. When Allen doesn’t answer, I leave him a message to call me back.

Nothing is a done deal until he signs a contract.

I grab my suit jacket from the back of my chair and stride out of my office, heading straight for the elevators, knowing full well where Cyrus’s main office is located. If I can’t talk with Allen, I’ll go straight to the source.

“I’ll be back in a few,” I call out to Janette over my shoulder as I stride past her.” Cancel all my meetings for the rest of the afternoon.”

“Of course,” she answers.

Once inside the elevator, I press the button for the top floor. The ride isn’t as long as it would be if I were going down to the main lobby. Soon enough, the shiny metal doors slide open effortlessly, then suddenly, I find myself standing in the front lobby of Cyrus’s office, where every surface is made of white marble. I straighten my tie and walk up to the desk. The reception area looks so different from the one on my floor, which is covered in hardwood, with tall, glass walls separating the offices. This room is white—stark white.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me.”

“How may I help you?” the man behind the desk asks. The nameTravisis etched into the gold name tag pinned to his chest. His smile is just as white as the floor and walls of this place.

“Yes, I’m Asher Egan. I was hoping to see Mr. Temper. Is he available?”

“I’m sorry, he’s with a client at the moment. Would you like to leave him a message or set an appointment to see him?”

“Shit.” I rest my hands on my hips. “No, that’s okay. Thanks.” I scratch the light scruff on my chin and spin on my heel. I may lose a client to Cyrus Temper after all. And not just any client, but one I’ve worked with in the past. Losing Allen is personal and cuts deep to my core.

I’m tempted to interrogate the secretary by demanding to know which client Cyrus is with, but I bite my tongue and concede instead. For now.

Reluctantly, I head back to the elevators, only to screech to a halt when I hear a familiar voice behind me. It slides down the back of my neck like smooth velvet, warming me in places that have frozen over.

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