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“No,” I whisper, rolling onto my back, the sheets tangled around me, and strain to listen.
Everything is a sleepy haze, and I’m too exhausted to care. Eighteen-hour shifts over the last two days have drained every ounce of energy I had left.
I’ve spent every waking second hunting for the perfect fabrics and overseeing the fit tests my designers have been running for the dress I’m revealing at the fashion show. The bodice—everything hinges on how it fits and flows, and time is slipping away. In less than three weeks, my entire team will be on a plane, flying across the ocean to give the fashion world an unpredictable surprise. I just hope I can pull it off.
My mind drifts, surrendering to the pull of sleep again.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My eyes bolt open, irritationbubbling up.
“Okay, I heard it that time,” I whisper, frustrated.
“What time is it?” Asher asks drowsily.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, and the screen’s brightness blinds me like a spotlight. “It’s just past midnight.”
He groans, but his breathing steadies.
Josh has been working Asher hard in preparation for the same fashion show. Right now, my days consist of having dinner, a shower, incredible sex, then sleep. Rinse and repeat, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. It doesn’t feel so monotonous with Asher by my side. We’ve also been taking turns sleeping at each other’s loft. I have a key to his place, and he has a key to mine. We just have to sneak in, hoping Mrs. Chambers doesn’t catch us. So far, we’ve managed.
“Billie!”
The familiar muffled voice has me groaning.
“Ugh!” I grumble, pushing the blanket from me.
“Who is it?” Asher asks in a deep rasp.
“It’s Harper. I’ll be right back.” I press soft kisses across the tattoos on his chest, catching a glimpse of his tired eyes before swinging my leg over him. I feel the heat of his body against mine as I lean down to capture his lips. “You’re so sexy.”
“Hurry back to me,” he mutters, his grip tightening on my ass before I slide off him.
I quickly throw on a T-shirt and some shorts that were on the floor. It’s what I had on earlier before Asher peeled them off and unwrapped me like a present.
I shuffle down the hallway, yawning and blinking away my tiredness. Peering through the peephole, I see Harper’s grinning face and blushed cheeks—a telltale sign that she’s had entirely too much to drink.
I swing the door open and freeze at the sight of Brody leaning against the wall behind her. His jaw is set tight, and I see a storm swirling in his eyes. The tension is thick, and his demeanor pricks at my instincts.
“Uh, hi?” My voice is hesitant, as I’m unsure of what’s going on.
Harper wraps her arms around my neck, her breath warm and sweet with the scent of alcohol. “I’m in love.”
I can’t help but chuckle, holding her steady as she sways slightly. “Really? Or are you just drunk?”
She giggles, pulling away to stumble inside. I lead her further in and glance back at Brody, his cold, angry eyes piercing through the moment.
Something’s off.
Harper twirls dramatically in my living room before flopping onto the couch like she owns the place. “I’m madly in love!”
I sit beside her, grinning despite Brody’s reaction.
“Give me the details,” I urge, trying to be supportive. This feels like a page out of our old playbook—sharing stories of our crushes and dates right afterward.
“Last weekend at the gala, I met this gorgeous man,” she gushes, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Micah Rhodes. He’s an entertainment lawyer. Do you know him?”
I shake my head. “The name doesn’t sound familiar. But I can ask Weston since he helped compile the guest list.”