I watch the numbers on the panel above the door rise and wonder what I am doing with a man who doesn’t just work in a building in midtown Manhattan, he owns it.
Shaking my head I stretch out my hand and feel the burn. It’s becoming a bad habit of mine again.
When the doors open, I exit to an office of dark mahogany and glass. There is a reception desk in the open waiting room but no one is behind it. The computer is off and the chair is pushed in as if the person has left for the day. Nice to know Mr. Asher isn’t a total slave driver.
To the left of the reception desk is a set of double doors with a name plaque on the door that reads “Edward Asher.” That must have been his grandfather’s office. To my near right is a seating area of sleek black leather and my eyes immediately fixate on the massive fish tank that nearly takes up the entire wall.
Before I am able to walk over to it, I hear voices coming from the large double doors on the far back right, past the fish tank and to the side of the reception desk. One of the doors is slightly ajar and the voices behind it are loud enough they can be heard from the waiting area.
“ . . . hanging out at that silly little school. You have decisions to make and you are neglecting them.” It’s a woman, her voice deep and throaty.
“Security has you on the red list. How did you get up here? I told you months ago it was over.”
“Yes, I remember, in Italy when you tossed me off your boat like a two-bit hooker.”
Italy???
“You came uninvited.”
“Well, I was certainly welcomed while I was there.”
“You didn’t leave like you were supposed to. Why didn’t you get on the goddamned plane?”
“I had business to take care of.”
“My business, I’m sure.”
I stop moving in fear I am not supposed to be eavesdropping on this conversation.
“You have decisions to make, Asher. You told me you were signing those papers. That envelope has been following you around for over a year.”
“What does it matter to you?
“We were going to take on the world together. ‘Fuck them all,’ remember? That’s what you told me. And then you just left. It took me months to track you down.”
“I needed to get away.”
“From me? You said I was the only one who knew what it was like to be unloved. You said I was the only one who really got it.”
“I’ve changed.”
“You think you’re in love. Tell me, how has that gone for you in the past?”
“Get out!” His words are loud and booming, and I jump a little.
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I said, get out!” I hear him bang on something, possible a desk and my body flinches at the sound.
The office door opens completely and a woman exits, rubbing her hands against each other in frustration. As she walks out, she stops at the sight of me and I recognize those dark onyx eyes.
Her lips fix into a wicked yet disappointed smirk as she slowly nods her head in understanding. Alexander is quickly behind her; his body also stops at the sight of me. He has an infuriated look on his face and his hair is dishevelled as if he’s been running his hands through it.
I push my shoulders back and look back at Malory Dean. She still looks as sexy as she did the first time I met her but tonight she has a determined look in her eye.
Taking three catlike steps toward me, she stops and looks down from her four-inch heels. “Emma Paige.” She says my name like it’s a revelation.
Alexander looks from her to me, uncertainty in his eyes. His footsteps are quick and heavy as he walks over to the elevator and hits the down button. “Leave.” The abrupt word is directed toward Malory.