He scuffed his shoe along the floor, looking awkward for just a second before that charming smile bloomed on his face again. “Even Prada had to start somewhere. Maybe this won’t be an instant moneymaker for me, but you have talent. This year, we open one store, but next year, who knows? You’re going places, Kate. L.A., New York, Paris. I want to be able to say I discovered you first.”
“You really think so?” I asked, surprising myself with the painful lump in my throat as I spoke the words.
“Of course,” he said seriously. “I can have my lawyers draw up the contract this afternoon: I’ll front the cash in exchange for minority percentage of ownership. Are you in?”
He looked especially kissable in that moment, all hopeful and earnest and excited, and a tiny bit vulnerable as he waited for my answer. It was hard to remember all the times he had made me so mad, hard to remember that there was anything about this man that anyone could find infuriating.
There was a little whisper of worry in the back of my mind that said I still didn’t know who the real Asher was: was it the sweet man who reassured me that he believed in me, and joked about his own failings? Or the condescending, flirty asshole who had three girlfriends but still couldn’t keep his sly winks and hands to himself?
I looked around the store and as the anticipation bubbled up inside me, I realized that it didn’t matter. This whole venture was a risk, especially with Asher, but there was no way I was going to say no. Not when this was what I had always wanted.
“Okay,” I said out loud. “You’ve got a deal.”
He held out his hand and I shook it firmly, forcing myself to let go afterward.
Now, all I had to do was make it through this business partnership without killing him, kissing him, or both.