Page 65 of From Asher, With Love

I watch as he walks over to the small bar built into the far wall of my office. He fills a glass with some of the water from the pitcher, dropping a lemon wedge into it before he holds his glass up to me, turning the corners of his mouth down and wrinkling his forehead, then points to the bar.

He’s silently asking me if I’d like a glass of my own water.Fucking asshole.

“No, thanks.” I shake my head and move toward the door, holding my arm out for him to follow. “I apologize, but I was just on my way out, remember?”

“One more thing,” he croaks. He takes a sip of water then walks over to where I am, standing in front of me. He’s at least an entire head shorter than me, and he smells like cigarettes. I want to vomit. The scent makes me feel as if I’ve suddenly grown seasick. My stomach wobbles, remembering the way my mother used to smoke over a pack a day, the scent embedded in the only three shirts I owned at the time.

“I thought you were here to offer your congratulations,” I quip, my nerves unsettling. This fucker needs to get out of my office. Now.

He smacks his lips and runs his hand over his mouth. Two beady eyes stare up at me as the gold chain around his neck glints in the light of my office. “I came down here to deliver a warning.”

I narrow my eyes, pinning him with daggers. “A warning?”

“I’m onto you, Mr. Egan.”

“You’reonto me?”

“Yes,” he says, matter of fact. “Allen Simon is a good man, and I was disappointed to hear he’d back out of my deal before crawling back to you. But alas, in this business, I guess you win some and you lose some. It’s the name of the game, and as you know, I like a good match every now and then.”

I don’t answer him, instead clenching my jaw so tightly I’m convinced my teeth will crack. Everything about Cyrus Temper makes me sick.

“But just when I thought our game with Allen Simon had played out, the opportunity with Charleigh’s Florals appeared.”

My stomach does another turn, causing tidal waves inside me. I clench my jaw, feeling every muscle in my body tense. I try not to allow Cyrus to see my reaction at his mention of Charleigh’s flower shop, but it’s too late. His eyebrows slant and his eyes narrow as if I’ve already confirmed his suspicions, whatever those suspicions may be.

“You know,” he continues, amused with where he’s taking this conversation. “It wasn’t interesting or surprising to me when she mentioned you at our first meeting weeks ago. After all, Allen Simon had been deciding between the two of us. It didn’t occur to me even when she told me she was a graduate of NYU or that she was originally from Connecticut. Then I decided to do a little digging.”

I clench my hands inside my pockets, making fists. My nails dig into my palms. Hearing Cyrus talk about Charleigh is bringing out a side to me I rarely ever share. A side that would do practically anything for those I care about. Especially Charleigh.

“You’re from Connecticut as well, aren’t you?”

“How would you know that?” My blood boils.

“Oh, please.” He sneers. “It’s a matter of a simple internetsearch, Asher. Not that difficult. You can learn quite a bit about someone: where they’re from, where they went to school, what their family is like. I know the history between you and Charleigh. And I know about your mother.”

“What exactly do you want from me then, Cyrus? Yes, I knew Charleigh when we were younger. So what?” I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to drive my fist right into his smug grin.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he spits. His face turns a deep shade of red, and the veins in his head bulge. “I just want you to know that I’m on to you. Just like your father, you’re a scammer and a cheat.”

“You knew my father?”

“Christopher Egan was a lying, cheating prick. It was no surprise when he ran out of this city, dragging his tail between his legs. And just like him, you’ll fuck anybody to close a deal.”

I straighten my back and tighten my fists. I’m not entirely sure if he’s making an accusation about me fucking my clients, or if he’s talking about my father as well. I didn’t even fucking know he knew my father. My nails cut into my palms even harder, but I don’t give a shit. They can bleed for all I care. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m accusing you of, you little shit. Like father like son.” He snarls, sniffing before he wipes his hand across his big, red nose. “You and your reputation are on the line here, so I think it’d be wise to think twice before pulling out that tiny dick of yours. Just watch yourself, because I won’t hesitate to expose all your secrets.” He points a stocky finger at my chest. “All of them.”

I’m not a fan of threats.

I step closer to Cyrus. He lifts his chin just to keep his eyes on mine. I look down on him, forcing myself to remain calm. I don’t know exactly what he’s insinuating. Does he knowCharleigh and I share a past? I don’t know how much of mine and her personal life she’s shared with him, but I doubt she has. Charleigh isn’t the type of person to share the pieces of her personal life with strangers. I can’t imagine a world where she’s told Cyrus about our past. Still the thought of him threatening me in my own office pushes me to the edge.

“Get the fuck out of my office,” I grind out.

With an evil smirk, he scoffs and lifts his glass of water to his mouth. With narrowed eyes, he swirls the water in his mouth before turning his head to the side and spitting. A gush of water sprays from his mouth and onto my desk. Spit and water droplets coat the surface of my mahogany desk.What the actual fuck?

I move an inch closer, clenching my fists at my sides.

He wipes the back of his hand across his dripping mouth. Slamming the glass down on my desk, he turns to me with a smile. “You’ll want to clean that up before it ruins the wood. Would hate to see such an expensive piece of furniture go to waste.” He pats my chest a few times.

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