Page 8 of From Asher, With Love

Even if I let him go all those years ago and moved on, creating a life of my own, I can’t help but remember how it was back then. How, in the end,hewas the one who chose to leaveme.

“I was supposed to be meeting someone, too,” he finally says, pulling me out of my thoughts as he shakes his head, glancing at the gold-plated watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Oh.” I smack my lips together. “What? Like a date?”

He snaps his head in my direction, cutting me a glare with a hint of amusement. “Possibly.” He gives me a smug grin, picks up his red, cashmere scarf, and wraps it around his neck, his gold watch clanking with the motion. He’s polished and clean. Vastly different. “But time is money, and I’ve wasted enough of it.”

I’m ready to throw this night in the garbage and leave Asher behind—chalk it up to a loss and find another real estate agent to help me—but I need this. Whether I’m a glutton for punishment, my curiosity gets the better of me, or maybe it’s because my love for my business is stronger than anything else, I reach out and stop Asher before he gets too far ahead of me.

“Wait.” My hand lands on the sleeve of his black, wool coat—a hand that once touched Asher in a much different way than I am doing now. The way my fingers used to threadwith his to remind us that our love would withstand anything thrown our way.

Teenage love can be grossly delusional. A fact I quickly learned the night he left.

Now, though, his coat is smooth against my palm. His eyes fall to my hand before he slowly lifts his gaze that’s burning with an intensity that shoots straight to my chest.

I jerk my hand back, realizing I’m still touching him. “Are you the real estate agent I was supposed to meet?

He considers me for a moment, avoiding my stare before looking back at me. “No. I don’t think so.” Short and to the point.

He moves to continue leaving the bar, but I stop him again. All the pieces of the Asher standing in front of me fall into place. The expensive watch and coat. The way his brown hair is impeccably groomed. The way his arrogance drips from him like all the men who hold offices on Wall Street.

“I think you are,” I tell him. “Do you know a Holt Capuleti?”

Asher’s gaze hardens, his eyes narrowing into two small slits.

A long time ago, those same eyes took my breath away. Now, they belong to a stranger. The once soft features of the boy I used to know are the hardened ones of the man standing in front of me. He backs away, and my hand falls from his arm.

He sighs, pressing his mouth into a tight line. “Nope. Can’t say I do.”

With those few words, he disappears into the crowd, and this time I don’t stop him.

I don’t believe him for one second. He knows Holt, and hewasthe man I was supposed to meet. Julianna’s text wasn’t a mistake.

Even so, there’s no way in hell I can hire him. The past doesn’t easily forget. It may forgive for a time, but the momentsthat shape our futures are always dictated by the past, no matter how far we attempt to put it behind us.

Because my business isn’t worth re-opening the pain caused by Asher.

I’ll just have to figure out another way to expand my business.

THREE

ASHER

“Janette?”

“Yes, Mr. Egan?”

My assistant Janette shuffles into my office, her tight pencil skirt shifting against her thighs with every step. She stands in the doorway, with her phone resting in her hand, ready to jot down any notes I give her. She blows out a quick breath and stiffens her spine as I lean back in my chair before turning my attention to the city outside my window.

“I thought you were going to email me the details for the Knight account,” I say between gritted teeth. My head pounds as I loosen my tie around my neck.

“I was just going to, sir.” I hear Janette’s long nails tapping on her screen. “Mr. Knight sent an email yesterday afternoon with all the information you requested. Once I’m at my computer, I’ll forward it over.”

“Why didn’t you send them over immediately?” I ask in a tight voice, curling my fingers. I can’t help it; I’m tense as fuck this morning. I also know why, but I’m trying to push the reason to the back of my mind. I’m trying to pretend the life I’ve builtover the past ten years didn’t come barreling into me, knocking me on my fucking ass.

Ever since last night, I’ve been out of sorts. Despite my efforts, I’m failing miserably at not letting it affect my work.

I spin in my chair and stare at Janette, waiting for her answer as I raise my eyebrows in anticipation, my nerves getting the better of me. I realize I’m not always the best when it comes to cordial interactions when it comes to matters of business, but deep down I know Janette doesn’t deserve the mood I’m giving her.

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