Page 14

14

ASHER

T he sun finally sets, and my eyes burn from staring at the computer screen for two hours. It’s been a long day of playing defense, and while it was expected, being “on” nonstop is exhausting. I have to be quick on my feet, ready to respond to any question at a moment’s notice.

When I got back from running into Billie, I was thrust into an emergency meeting, followed by several conference calls. My publicist and agent are losing their minds, and investors are low-key panicking, even though we’re booked with clients for the rest of the year and have a long wait list. Gossip sites and media outlets have bombarded me, clamoring for a statement about the sign I hung for Billie, along with our coffee date. My timing couldn’t have been better.

So many are desperate for me to confirm if we’re secretly together. Others want to know if I think Josh Lustre can actually take over the fashion industry.

Absolutely not.

He was right about one thing: as long as Bellamore is active, he’ll never be at the top.

I hop online and type in Billie’s name. It seems like the prince and his team have worked overtime this evening to overshadow the headlines from earlier today. The fake relationship story has been twisted in several directions, but somehow, they’re still losing to the secret relationship rumor that kicked off the night of the award ceremony. Just wait—I’m only getting started. Right now, I’m just pregaming.

I lean back in my chair, running my hand over my face. I can’t shake thoughts of Billie and how she asked me if kissing her had been a mistake. She was looking for confirmation that I’d felt nothing, but I couldn’t find the words. She snatched them away like a thief in the night. Now that I’ve seen her vulnerability—the part of her she keeps hidden from everyone else—I can’t look away.

She felt something when we kissed. She showed her cards.

I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist, even if she begged me to. It’s impossible. I’ve tried.

“Fuck,” I mutter, realizing I need to halt this train of thought before I get too deep with her.

I need the Ice Queen out of my head, even though I know she’ll never be out of my life. Our social circles are already too intertwined.

A knock on my office door pulls me from my thoughts. I’m surprised to see my brother.

Nick steps inside. “Wow. You’re still here.”

“Not for long,” I tell him, realizing I’m getting nowhere. I lock my computer, signaling the end of my day. All I want is a bourbon, a hot shower, and a good night’s sleep.

Nick sits in the chair across from my desk. “About earlier?—”

“Don’t apologize.”

“I wasn’t planning to. I’m genuinely concerned about you. You can’t keep going at this pace,” Nick says.

He’s the only one who truly understands how hard I work.

“You’ve been saying that for the past year, and I’m still pushing through. Besides, why does it matter? This is all I have.”

He crosses his arms. “You have no work-life balance. This company is the cause of your current circumstances, not the effect, Ash. I know you work your ass off for Eden, and I respect the hustle, but somewhere along the way, you’ve lost yourself. All you do is work, eat, sleep, and repeat. It’s a toxic cycle, and you’re stuck in it. Our sister wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

This is the last conversation I want to have right now.

“I have a lot on my plate. Once I finish the contract with Lustre, I’ll take a vacation. I promise. Right now, I can’t. Too much is at stake.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice. I’m really sorry, but,” he says, sighing heavily, “the board thinks you’ve pushed things too far with Billie. You need to step away for a little while.”

“Please tell me you’re not enforcing this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Ash.”

“It takes your vote, Nick,” I say through clenched teeth.

“You’re damn right it does. And you know who I thought about when I made my decision today? Eden. She’d have been furious, seeing you like this. You’re exhausted, angry, and lonely. Wake up before you crash and burn.”

“I’m wide awake,” I snap back. “My eyes are open for the first time in years. Maybe even a decade. You have no idea what’s on the line. Forcing me to take leave is a huge fucking mistake.”

“We’ll see in a week,” he replies, unfazed by my outburst.

“That’s too long.” I glare at him.

“It can be extended to ninety days if this keeps up.” He looks me over. “Humble yourself before I have to do it for you. Now, I know you’re pissed at m?—”

I nod, feeling my heart rate increase. “Oh, I’m very pissed.”

“Yeah? You’ll get over it. Anyway, I’m meeting some friends tonight at Diamond. Want to join me?”

“No,” I reply.

“Come on. It’ll be good for you. Trust me. For once,” he says, and I catch a glimmer in his eyes.

“Why?” I see right through him .

“It would be in your best interest.” He shrugs. “I’m leaving now. A car is waiting downstairs.”

“I’m not staying long.”

“I don’t care,” he tells me as I grab my phone, and we head to the elevator together.

I’m upset—don’t get me wrong—but I know he wouldn’t suggest this if he didn’t think it was necessary. I’ll find a way to move forward, whether it’s from my office or my townhouse.

“Who’s handling Lustre while I’m away?” I ask as we step into the metal box.

“Me.” He smirks.

“This is bullshit,” I hiss.

“Really? Did you know Stormy is working with the Calloways? Josh had a complete meltdown today over you and Billie possibly dating. Prince Louis is working overtime to prove he’s with her. And you’re just adding fuel to the fire. This could be viewed as a conflict of interest that might cost us a billion dollars.”

I shake my head. Stormy is who entire firms turn to when they’re in too deep. She and her team are the absolute best in the industry. If Billie needed Stormy to help her dispose of a body, it would be gone within the hour, along with all the evidence. Is this more serious than I thought?

“You messed with the Calloways, Asher. What did you expect?”

“My actions are justified, even if they’re not in the rule book.”

“Your actions speak much louder than my words ever could. It looks like you’re in it for personal gain.”

“I don’t care what it looks like. Time reveals everything,” I throw back. My anger level rising.

“You’ll eventually thank me,” he says, his gaze locking on to mine. “You have to do things your way, and I have to do them mine.”

“What do you know that I don’t?” I whisper, wishing for fewer obstacles but knowing there will be more .

“I’m purposely ignoring your question,” he replies, checking his watch.

“Once my mind is made up, I don’t back down,” I remind him.

“I’m aware. Just know I’m always on your side, just as you’re on mine,” he says.

As soon as we step out of the building, camera flashes blind us. I groan, shielding my face and rushing to the car, understanding this is my life—at least for now.

“Bet you’re glad you’re coming with me. Did you really plan on walking home?” my brother asks as we speed away from the firm, leaving the paparazzi behind.

“I don’t know. I just decided to leave,” I reply.

We zip across the city to an exclusive club in an upscale neighborhood.

I adjust my tie as the car comes to a stop in front of the building, which sparkles like a gem. More camera flashes greet us, but my brother seems unfazed.

We slip through the double doors into a foyer waiting area. Diamond awaits with its soft, shimmering lights.

Security checks our IDs and scans them on a machine.

“Welcome to Diamond, Mr. Banks,” he says to both of us.

We’re granted instant access. Inside feels like stepping into a different world.

Only those on the exclusive list are allowed in. It includes A-list celebrities, royalty, athletes, and the who’s who of the business world. Being part of that list is a privilege I was born into. Being a Banks opens doors most people only dream of.

Inside Diamond, privacy is paramount. Those who breach it are banned for life, and no one with a social standing wants to risk that. It would tarnish their reputation—a clear sign they can’t be trusted. The world is full of enough people who can’t keep a secret.

Once we’re upstairs, Nick quickly spots his friends—guys he went to college with. I’ve met them before, but it’s been years since they were in the city. I follow my brother into the VIP section, and we join them at a large circular booth. Several bottles of bourbon and whiskey sit in the center of the table.

“Do you remember my little brother, Asher?” Nick asks, reaching for an empty glass.

They all chime in with an enthusiastic, “Yeah,” as he pours himself a drink.

“I know it’s been a while so I think another introduction is in order. That’s Jameson and Patterson; they’re brothers. Callan, Hunter, and Smiley.”

I wave and take a seat, thankful to be told their names.

The lights are low, and music plays overhead. The surrounding tables are packed with couples, and the bar has no open seats.

“Drink up,” Hunter says with a nod. “Heard you’ve had a helluva day.”

“What have you heard?” I pour a double shot of bourbon and down it in one go.

“Fucking around with a Calloway? You’re gonna find out,” Patterson says, shaking his head. “That’s a death wish.”

I chuckle. “I’ll survive, trust me.”

A moment later, a cocktail waitress with long legs approaches us, her eyes fixed on me. She’s cute.

“Does anyone need anything from the bar?” she asks, smiling directly at me.

I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, smirking back. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“I bet you are,” she replies with a wink. “Let me know if I can help with anything.”

She turns on her heel and walks away.

The guys look at me, eyebrows raised.

“What?” I ask.

“She wanted you,” Smiley says.

“Too bad he only has eyes for one woman,” my brother chimes in .

“That’s how rumors get started.” I shake my head. “And don’t talk to me. I’m still pissed at you.”

“Aww. Here’s all the fucks I give,” Nick says, opening his empty palm.

I can’t help but smile. My brother is my best friend, always looking out for me. He’s been protective of me since we were kids.

I take another shot, craving the liquor to hit me faster. Tonight, I want to forget my name. I need to temporarily forget Billie Calloway exists and that I’m being forced away from work.

“What did I miss?” Patterson asks.

“My brother thought it would be a great idea to get between the diamond princess and Josh Lustre. Now he’s stuck in a shit show.” Nick explains how he temporarily took over the company, grinning.

I roll my eyes. “You forgot to mention I’m not doing it for evil reasons.”

“Then why?” Jameson asks.

It’s tough to put into words what I’m after.

“I’m an asshole, and I’m bored,” I say, slamming back another drink.

“Shit. You have a crush on the diamond princess.” Hunter laughs, standing up to pour bourbon into all our glasses.

“No, I don’t,” I say, lifting my drink and tossing it back.

Jameson changes the subject, and we talk about nothing and everything at once. It feels good to shoot the shit. Maybe taking some time off will do me some good.

An hour passes quickly, and I realize I’m drunk, which can be both a blessing and a curse. Patterson keeps cracking jokes, and I can’t stop laughing.

My eyes scan the room, and I nearly stop breathing when I spot Billie at the bar. She’s leaning into the guy next to her, smiling, whispering something in his ear. My jaw tightens as I try to get a better look at who she’s with.

“Did you hear me?” Nick asks, following my gaze .

I turn to him, and he tilts his head, as if he knew she’d be here. He must have heard it from Harper. Cocky bastard.

“Who’s she with?” I ask, my voice dropping.

I take in the generic guy in a tailored suit. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. With that description, it could be anyone.

Nick shrugs. “Is that Prince Louis?”

“Not sure,” I tell him.

I can’t tear my eyes away from her. She’s absolutely mesmerizing with her dark hair and light eyes. It doesn’t help that she’s right in my line of sight.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell my brother after slamming back another shot.

“Choose your moves wisely,” he warns as I stand.

“Shut the hell up. I’m officially off script, thanks to you,” I reply.

I stride across the room like I own the place. As I turn my head to steal another glance at Billie, she catches my gaze. Her plump lips part, and she doesn’t look away. I shoot her a smirk and raise an eyebrow, the booze from the last hour swirling in my head.

I see you, Ice Queen.

She sees me too.

By the look on her face, I can tell I’m the last person she expected to see here. I can’t blame her—my presence here is definitely unusual.

The guy turns to glance at her, and I confirm it’s Prince Louis.

I immediately stop walking and glare at her. She leans in, whispers something in his ear, and I head toward the hallway that leads to the restrooms.

“What the fuck?” I whisper. What the actual fuck?

I move down the hallway and step into the bathroom to take a piss. My bladder is ready to burst after I drank for the past hour. Once I wash my hands, I stroll down the dimly lit corridor, where flickering lanterns cast a warm glow.

When I glance up, our eyes lock. She struts toward me like this is her runway. With one tall black high heel in front of the other, her gaze fixed on me. The black mesh minidress leaves nothing to the imagination.

Damn, she’s absolutely enchanting.

With flared nostrils, she glares at me. “Are you stalking me?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, please don’t flatter yourself, princess. You’re the very last person on this planet I want to see right now.”

It’s not a lie. Being this close to her and smelling her sweet perfume is pure fucking torture. It always is.

“Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes say another,” she replies smugly.

“Really? Tell me what my eyes are saying,” I mutter, briefly falling into the abyss with her.

I swallow hard and step back, knowing it’s for the best. But she quickly grabs my hand, pulling me back to her.

“We were talking.”

Electricity crackles between us as she looks up at me.

“You told me to pretend you didn’t exist. Let me do that,” I say.

A small smile plays on her lips. “You’re drunk.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. Why are you here with Louis?”

She tilts her head, studying me. “Oh, I know you saw the headlines. We’re officially dating now.”

I take a step closer, and her back hits the wall. Leaning in, I whisper in her ear, “Why are you determined to keep lying about that?”

She swallows hard, grabbing my shirt and pulling me closer.

My stubble grazes her neck, making her breath hitch. A smile creeps onto my face as I trace her jaw with my lips, bringing myself close to her mouth. We’re less than an inch apart as her eyes flutter closed. I brush my lips across hers, not pressing them together, even as she inches forward.

“Does your boyfriend know about me?” I whisper.

“Does your girlfriend know about me?” she shoots back.

“I’m not with anyone. Now it’s your turn to confess,” I mutter.

Seconds feel like minutes as I gently rub my nose against hers. Our hot breaths mingle, and our lips are just a hummingbird wing’s flutter away. I want to thread my fingers through her hair and capture her ruby-red lips, but I force myself to pull away, intoxicated by our closeness.

“You make me so mad and …” she says in a low growl, unable to finish her thought.

“Die mad, Ice Queen,” I reply, knowing I have Billie Calloway wrapped around my little finger.

The urge to taste her lips again nearly overwhelms me, and we can’t lose control. I’m so damn tempted, but am I under her spell, or is it the bottomless bourbon shots I’ve taken?

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she says.

Her wall briefly falls, and for a moment, I’m completely star-crossed, almost picturing an entirely different life with her. We’d argue until we were ninety.

A small smile tugs at my lips as she gazes up at me, flustered, as if she’s imagining the same thing. Her breathing is uneven.

“You should get back to your prince,” I lean in and say close to her ear, running my fingers through her hair and giving it a slight tug.

Her fingers grip my shirt tightly. I slide my phone from my pocket, lift it, and snap a photo with the flash.

“You bastard,” she growls, and I pull her closer.

“Say Ice Queen ,” I tell her, leaning into her with a grin. Then I turn to her with a chuckle. “Don’t fuck with me, Billie. I’m playing to win.”

“Win what?” she asks. “You have zero skin in this game.”

“You’re wrong about that. Micro versus macro.” I turn back to her, opening my camera to snap another shot.

She looks gorgeous, even happy, as she leans confidently against the wall, staring at me with her fuck-me eyes.

“Delete those,” she warns. “If not, I’ll make you regret it.”

“You’re not in control,” I say, flicking through the photos.

I relish the devious little smirk that plays on her lips, almost like she’s daring me to post. There’s another where her hair covers her face.

Billie moves toward me, standing right in front of me. “I suppose you’re the epitome of control then?”

Her lips are so fucking close. They brush against mine, and I hold my composure, though inside, I’m fucking falling apart.

She pulls away, surprised. “Wow. You’re immune.”

“Try harder, babe,” I mutter. “It’ll take much more than that. Enjoy your date.” I give a mock bow. “Your Royal Highness. Should I get used to addressing you that way?”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know,” I reply with a grin. “And you know it too.”

I force myself to step back, knowing there’s no antidote for Billie Calloway. I glance over my shoulder before disappearing from view, and I catch her watching me. She swallows hard, then heads to the restroom.

Our moments together are always brief.

My cock is rock hard, and I adjust myself as I cross the lavish room. In the center hangs one of the world’s most extravagant chandeliers.

Louis locks on to me, and I pretend not to notice him. I don’t owe him my attention, and frankly, I don’t give a fuck who he is. He’s another nepo baby, like the rest of us, except he gets to wear a crown.

I return to the oversize booth and take a seat. Nick looks at me, then glances toward the hallway. Billie comes into view.

Nick tilts his head, clearly tipsy. “Wait, are the rumors true?”

“I should probably bail.” I pull my wallet from my pocket, grab some cash, and set it on the table.

Nick studies me closely. “Be careful, little brother. You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Dangerous is my favorite,” I say, downing another shot. I offer my goodbyes to Nick’s friends. “See you guys around. Don’t be strangers if you’re back in the city, okay? ”

They chime in at once, and I laugh. As I head toward the stairs, I text my driver the address, knowing I can’t walk home in my current state, especially with the paps lurking outside. Diamond is a prime spot for photographers, always ready to snap shots of people coming and going. That must be why Billie chose to bring her prince here. It’s another publicity stunt, another one that I ruined.

While I wait for my driver, I unlock my phone and search for recent articles about me. At the top, there are photos of Billie and Louis arriving at Diamond. Thirty minutes later, there are shots of Nick and me entering.

I knew he was up to something. My eyes scan down the list of articles.

I click on the top link LuxLeaks posted. LadyLux is an anonymous, divorced, middle-aged socialite who seems to know everyone . At least, that’s the rumor. I’m skeptical about most things, especially when they come from hidden sources online.

The title—“What I Think about Asher Banks: Part 1”—catches my eye. I skim her words, some of which are a bit too raw for my taste.

I did a lot of research, and my question to Asher is, why have you and Billie hated one another since your Stanford days? I contacted several of your old college friends, and they’ve said this rivalry has lasted years. Why? As I traced your steps over the years, it’s clear that your paths always cross. I think you have a crush on her and realize you’re running out of time. This is you trying everything to show her what you have to offer.

Do I think Billie should choose you? I’m not sure yet.

I reach the end of the article .

Asher, if you’re reading this, I believe what you’re doing publicly is performative. I’m not convinced you two have ever had a private moment together. I guess this is me saying prove it because I’m overly skeptical, but I know you won’t.

Remember, this post is my opinion about public figures based on information that’s publicly available.

“Okay,” I mutter to myself.

If she’s skeptical, plenty of others are too.

I open Instagram and upload the photo of Billie and me, her face cleverly blocked. I had just whispered in her ear. The public probably won’t have a hard time guessing who it is, even if it could be anyone. It’s enough to make my point.

I type a quick caption. My finger hovers over the blue Share button as I debate whether to go this far.

I weigh the different outcomes, and then I disrespectfully hit the button.

“Thanks, LadyLux,” I say proudly as the likes and comments start flooding in.

I will find out who you are if it’s the last thing I do.

I scroll through the comments and notice people tagging Billie. I quickly go to my Settings and unblock her so she’ll see every single one.

Your move, Ice Queen.