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“We can’t afford to lose him to Lustre. A classic example of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.” She stands. “Asher will be at the CEO ball on Saturday. You should make an appearance. Talk to him there.”
I glare at her. “Ineverattend.”
She grows serious. “You were nominated for the Cityscape Award. It’s an honor after everything we’ve been through. Skipping this year isn’t an option. I must be at another event the same night, and Bellamore must be seen. Show Josh we’re not backing down and not selling to him.”
“Selling to him?” I ask.
Harper comes around my side of the desk and slides the keyboard close to her. She opens a web browser and loads Fashion Network—a site that posts industry news. Front and center is Josh’s face. Underneath, it says,Inside the mind of fashion’s hottest trendsetting designer.
I groan. “Trendsetting designer, my ass. He stoleourshit.”
“I know. It gets worse,” she tells me, clicking on the article and scrolling to the bottom. She highlights a direct quote, where he was asked about competition.
“Bellamore is no longer fresh. I know it’s not for sale, but I dream of purchasing it and merging it with Lustre. We’d become a superpower then. Considering their designs are so eerily similar, it only makes sense for it to be a sister company. Not to mention, they’re struggling. Billie, if you’re reading, babe, let’s join forces. I miss you and still love you.”
I can hear my racing heart pounding in my ears. It’s too early to be this upset.
“I miss you?Still love you?! Fuck him! I cannot believe this is happening,” I state, my nostrils flaring. “After everything he did to me? How aboutI’m sorry?”
Harper sits on the edge of my desk, inhaling with her arms crossed over her chest. “That’s why we need Asher.”
“This is an actual nightmare,” I breathe, the weight of despair heavy on my shoulders.
My gaze locks on to her crystal blue eyes that are almost gray, and I can feel my body tensing, muscle by muscle.
“How long do I have to decide?” I ask, each word laced with urgency as the air around us nearly suffocates me.
“Two weeks, maybe less,” she tells me, hopping off my desk. “Basically, the sooner, the better.”
3
ASHER
THE NEXT DAY
When I leave my mid-month investor meeting, it’s dark outside. I move into my office, and the overhead lights automatically turn on. As I stare across the way, I see Billie in her office, pacing back and forth with her headset attached. Her hands are flailing. I assume whoever she’s speaking to is getting the ass-chewing of their life; then again, she has a mad case of resting bitch face, even when she’s happy. Billie RBF Calloway—pretty sure it’s her middle name.
I cross my arms over my chest, hating how fucking cocky she is in her high-as-heaven heels. Even though she wears black no matter what time of year, the skirts and blouses get shorter, the higher the temperatures are.
Just as I’m about to sit at my desk, she turns and stares at me. I point up at the sign.
She clearly mouths,Go to hell, before turning around.
Laughter escapes me as I sit at my desk. “Already there, Ice Queen.”
Although I cleared my email directly after lunch, over fourhundred wait for me now. I’m too exhausted to reply, so I log off. It’s something I’ll deal with tomorrow.
I grab my shoulder bag, pack a few files and my laptop, and leave. As I shut my door, I catch a final glimpse of Billie. I thought I was married to my job, but then I moved to this building and saw how hard she worked. It’s a pity she’s failing. She’s proof that the number of hours put in each day doesn’t always end with results.
On the way out, I say goodbye to security. My driver meets me at the front, and we zoom across the city, avoiding most traffic. Considering it’s nearly eight, we travel quickly. When the weather is nice, I walk to work. When I’m mentally exhausted, like right now, I’ll have a car drop me off or pick me up.
Relief floods me as the SUV slows in front of my townhouse. I offer a thank you and get out.
Once I’m inside, I drop my laptop in the living room. I go upstairs and change into something more comfortable before heading to Johnny Be Good—the bar on the corner that I frequent. It was one of my sister’s favorite places too. We used to have drinks here once a week, and I’ve kept the tradition going without her.
I sit at the same stool I had the last time Eden and I were together. I drink the same drink too. It’s a tradition to have a bourbon on the rocks. The owner, Johnny, stopped asking me for my order a few years ago.
Baseball plays on the TV in the corner, and I’m lost in my head, not thinking about anything. The anniversary of losing my sister is coming up soon—a day I dread. She’s been gone for four years, passing at the age of thirty-two. Sometimes, it feels like the accident happened just yesterday; other times, it seems like a lifetime has passed. She left the firm to me in her will, and my only goal has been to build it up to where Eden always envisioned it going—to the very top.