“Touché.” Hadley points to her on the couch with the bottle and laughs. “But no, fuck him in the nonliteral sense. I mean, unless he wants to take you on his desk, then yes, definitely go for it because that’s hot as hell.” She does a little twerk that I think in her mind is supposed to represent me bent over a desk.
I chuckle and take the glass that’s handed to me. “No, go in there tomorrow and show him why you are the best damn events director and look damn good doing it.”
She holds the bottle up and uses the other hand to raise, ensuring that we stand from the couch. We all clink our glasses and take a drink. Hadley takes a relatively larger sip straight from the bottle.
“I love you guys so much.” How lucky am I to have these people in my life?
Clearing my throat, I take a seat back on the couch and cross my legs under me. “Okay, now that we’ve aired my dirty laundry on a damn Monday, let’s talk about something else.”
“Ooo, like how fine Mr. Murphy was looking tonight? Seriously, Brynn, why aren’t you banging him?” Hadley smirks.
Brynn throws her head back on the couch, groaning. “Because we’re just friends,” she admits for what feels like the millionth time. But are we seriously the only ones that see how hot their chemistry is? I feel like “we’re just friends” are famous last words.
We spend the rest of the evening laughing and chatting before Brynn leaves, and Hadley heads to her room for bed.
I throw the leftover food containers in the fridge and the empty wine bottles on the counter before making my way to my bedroom. Stripping off my clothes, I climb into bed and wonder what’s in store for me tomorrow. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I’m supposed to kick ass and love my job, not be consumed with thoughts of the man who now signs my paycheck. I can do this—I can remember that Bentley Harrington is just my boss and not the sex on the stick I had gotten off to the thought of all weekend.
I finally push thoughts of our one night together out of my head and pray I have the strength to get through this.
I noticed the light on in her office well past close of business. There was no way I was leaving her in this building alone. Once when I went back to the kitchen, I passed her office and thought about stopping in to check in with her, but as I glanced through her open door, I saw her focused on reading papers on her desk, chewing on the tip of her pen, and my mind went somewhere it shouldn’t have.
As soon as I saw the light flick off in her office, I waited thirty minutes to make sure I didn’t run into her in the parking lot and give it away that I was only here to make sure she was okay. Plus, I may have done something stupid like call the whole “keeping it professional” thing off since it was after hours and convince her to come back to my place for round two and three…and four.
The drive to the luxury three-story town house I recently purchased is easy. The traffic is light being so much later in the evening. I pull my blacked-out BMW M4 into the garage. I may not like to flaunt my money around often, but I do love my toys. The sleekness of the black on black spells luxury, elegance, and of course, speed. What can I say? I’m a man. Resting my head on the back of the headrest, I scrape my hands down my face, exhaling. What a fucking day.
I exit the car and close the garage as I make my way into the house. I hear soft moans as I walk up the stairs to the next level. Seriously, Asher? For fuck’s sake. I don’t even need to enter the room to know that Asher has brought another one of his conquests back home. At least he could have taken her to his room.
When I reach the top of the stairs to the landing, I spy from the corner of my eye my brother with his head buried between the legs of the next notch on his belt. Who knows her name? I’m sure as hell Asher doesn’t either. I choose not to make my presence known because I don’t need to make the situation more awkward. I also make a mental note to have it professionally cleaned—actually, no, to order a new couch for the living room. I make my way down the hall to my home office. The minibar is calling my name. I pour myself a glass of Macallan 12 and take a seat at my desk.
The liquid goes smoothly down my throat. I browse the internet to pass the time, and the liquid courage has convinced me to google one Alexis Baker, age 25, Willow Creek, New York. Pictures from various events with Maritime Media appear on the screen. I scroll through the images and notice the same group of girls that were with her at the club. Any photo where she’s posing with a guy, I quickly forward to the next image. In most photos, she is smiling from ear to ear. That smile is enough to make any man fall to their knees. It’s the candids from work events that have me most captivated. She is so focused and driven, and it shows in her work.
I’m not sure how long I spend in my office when a yawn creeps up on me. I turn the computer monitor off and drain the rest of my tumbler. Before I can exit the office and make my way to my bed, the door to my office flings open.
“What the fuck are you doing up still?” My brother strolls in wearing just low-hanging sweatpants and takes a sip from a beer bottle before plopping on the couch across from the desk.
I lean back in my chair, annoyed that bedtime has been delayed, but also relieved because that means I’m delaying the inevitable. I know that no matter what rules I put in place for Lexi and me, it does not apply to my dreams.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was because I sought out refuge in here when I arrived home after a long first day only to find you dining out on your flavor of the week. Or is it the flavor of the day?” He shrugs off my remarks and doesn’t deny it. One of these days, his actions will have consequences. I won’t always be there to clean up his messes.
“Yeah, whatever, Dad.” That stings deep, and he knows it. I run my palm along the memorial tattoo hidden with the ink on my arm. Our parents died when Asher was only ten, and I was almost finished my business degree. Our parents were en route to a fundraiser for one of the charity groups our mother was a part of when their small plane went down somewhere over the Appalachian Mountains.
I was not about to allow my brother to go into the system, so I stepped up as his guardian. Balancing finishing my degree and raising a hell-ridden teenage boy was more challenging than it looks in the movies, but somehow I prevailed. It wasn’t easy. The sleepless nights and emotional breakdowns were endless, and that wasn’t even adding my college course load and needing to make sure I secured a job to support us. Not to mention my ex-girlfriend, Kandace, who left me because she wasn’t ready to be anyone’s guardian at twenty.
“One, don’t call me that. I may have suffered through your teenage years, making sacrifices to provide you with the best life possible after what we went through, but I’m serious, Asher. You’re fucking twenty-five, what the fuck are you doing with your life?”
“I’m sorry I’m not as perfect as you,” he spits back before taking a long drag from his bottle.
I shake my head and run my hands through my hair. “I’m not perfect, Asher, far from it.” I pause for a moment, almost ready to spill my current predicament, but think better of it. The longer I fester on it, the more of an issue it will become. I can push that brunette vixen to the back of my mind and move on. Sure, totally can.
“Yeah, whatever you say. You’re the poster child for perfection, and you know it.”