Page 16

16

ASHER

“ S pecial delivery,” I say, knowing she’s peeking at me through the peephole. I take a step back and lift the lid. “Okay, you have to admit, it looks good. I’m not talking about the pizza.”

She groans on the other side of the door. “ Go away !”

I lean in closer to the crack. “You don’t want me to.”

Billie immediately swings the door open. She’s rocking bright yellow shorts that cling to her like a second skin and a graphic T-shirt that she transformed into a stylish grunge look. It shows her stomach and the curve of her hips. Proof that she can make anything look sexy.

“What do you want, Banks?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Wait.” I pause, letting my eyes slide down her body and back up again. “You actually own clothes that aren’t black? Shocking. ”

She rolls her eyes. “How did you get past the doorman?”

“I have my ways,” I explain.

“You’re so annoying,” she counters.

“Would you like some?” I hold the box open, letting the mouthwatering aroma of cheese, pepperoni, and freshly baked dough waft into the hallway.

“Are you talking about the pizza this time?” Billie licks her lips and pushes the door open wide enough for me to step inside. Her blue eyes glint with mischief.

“Are you drunk?” I ask, knowing that when she drinks, she can get wild.

I remember countless college frat parties where my eyes stayed glued on her all night. There was no way I’d let any of my friends near Billie. Every last one of them wanted to bang her, but they’d have used her. Un-fucking-acceptable.

“Don’t make me change my mind,” she warns.

I walk past her without hesitation.

“Wow,” I whisper, stopping to admire the vibrant paintings on the walls and the vintage furniture.

This building was a bookbinding shop back in the late 1800s, and it’s been remodeled into several penthouses and loft-style apartments. Plenty of A-listers, artists, and fashionistas call this place home.

“Not what you expected?” she asks, shutting the door behind her.

“I just have one question.” I glance over at her. “Where do you keep your portal to hell?”

A small smile dances on her lips as she walks past me, giving me an enticing view of her curves. I force my eyes to stay forward, but I’m tempted to memorize every last inch of her. The lights are dim as she leads me into the kitchen. She has an open floor plan with high ceilings, exposed brick, and wooden beams. It feels cozy, lived in.

“A candlelit dinner. How unexpected,” I mutter, following her into the kitchen.

She almost laughs.

“Stop doing that,” she says, opening a cabinet and pulling out two plates.

“Doing what?” I ask innocently.

“You’re flirting,” she replies.

“This isn’t flirting. Raise your standards.” I shrug .

She glares at me. “Every day, I wonder why my brothers choose to be friends with someone like you.” She’s annoyed, yet she hands me a plate.

“Yeah? How long have you been holding that rant in?”

She groans. “You anger me.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” I admit. “But don’t pretend to be all kind and thoughtful. Your reputation precedes you, Calloway. You’re not soft. You’re cold as ice.”

“Then why are you here? It’s almost like you enjoy me tearing into you,” she counters, unbothered.

“And what if I do?” I challenge. “What if getting under your skin is the highlight of my day?”

She shakes her head. “Find someone else.”

“Nope. It’s me and you, Ice Queen. This has been going on for so long. No way I’m calling it quits now. I’m way too invested.”

She grabs a few napkins for us.

When I glance over, I see her phone is unlocked, displaying the Instagram post of us. I pick it up and smirk.

“Nope,” she says, rushing toward me and snatching it from my hand. “Why would you post that? What is wrong with you?”

Laughter bursts from me. “For this reaction. Totally worth it.”

“This isn’t funny, Banks! You’re ruining my life. For the last time, leave me alone.” She almost sounds desperate.

“No can do, princess.” I move deeper into her kitchen and spot a few bottles of bourbon on the counter. One is my favorite. I remove the top and take a swig. “This is the best. You’ve got good taste,” I say, settling into a seat at the nook. “In everything except men and the dumb-as-fuck sculptures you have at Bellamore.”

She looks at me like she wants to rip my eyes out. “Rude as hell. Don’t talk about my art that way.”

“How much money did you waste on them?”

Her mouth drops open. “I made them. You fucking prick.”

“Oh, you made them? So, you’re fully responsible for the sleek, curved dildos in Bellamore. If that’s not a sign of sexual frustration, then I don’t know what is.”

Billie sits on the stool at the end of the breakfast nook. She’s so far away that I wouldn’t be able to touch her if I reached out. Maybe that’s for the best.

“They don’t look like dicks,” she mumbles, taking a bite of pizza. “You shouldn’t be here. The paps are watching the building.”

“Aren’t they always?” I ask.

“Still performing for LadyLux?”

I grin. “Wasn’t her article enthralling?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s inaccurate.”

“Those are your words, not mine,” I remind her, echoing what she said to me.

I know what LuxLeaks posted—there were truths sprinkled in, even if some things were exaggerated.

This catches Billie off guard; it shows on her face.

“Why did you unblock me on Instagram?” she asks, then shakes her head. “Actually, why did you block me in the first place? That’s a better question.”

I take a bite of the pizza I tried to eat earlier. “Ah. Now, that’s a great question,” I say just as a few knocks sound on Billie’s door. My brows furrow. “Are you expecting someone?”

“My boyfriend,” she tells me, and I can’t tell if she’s joking.

She moves toward the door and glances back at me. The knocking continues. She looks in the peephole, and her demeanor shifts.

“You have to hide,” she says, moving back to me as the knocking persists. Billie grabs my hand and pushes me down the hallway. “Hide in my bedroom.” She points at the door at the end of the hall. “Five minutes.”

“And if I say no?”

“Please don’t do this to me right now. Please.” She’s serious.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“Go,” she instructs .

I move toward her bedroom that’s lined by dark brick walls. Her high heels are scattered on the floor, like she undressed the moment she got home. I pass the sexy dress she was wearing, along with a strapless bra. I enter her bedroom, amazed by how she designed it.

“Nice lair, Ice Queen.”

A king-size four-poster bed rests against a light-gray wall, neatly made with fluffy white blankets and stacked pillows.

A deep voice pulls me away. I leave the door cracked open, straining to hear, but I can’t make out the words.

“What do you want?” Billie asks, her tone laced with venom and an anger I’ve never heard before. It’s surprising, considering I’ve witnessed some of her worst moments over the years.

The muffled voice returns.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or not. We aren’t together. We are never getting back together,” she states firmly. “No! I will never forgive you.”

My heart races as I listen. If she raises her voice one more time, it’s over.

“No, no,” she says.

I hear footsteps approaching. I quickly slip into Billie’s closet. It’s dark, and the silhouettes of her black clothes surround me.

“I know he’s here,” the guy says, and I instantly recognize the voice—Josh Lustre.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re not together. Why the hell are you here?” she retorts. “I thought I’d made it clear that I never wanted to see you again.”

“I miss you,” he confesses. “You and Asher?—”

“Are nothing,” she snaps. “We will never be anything. Why are you so damn concerned about him? You know how I feel about him, and you still hired him! What the fuck, Josh?”

“Then why is he here? Apparently, it’s not hate if you’re eating pizza with him. ”

“Get out,” Billie demands. I can picture the glare on her face, her cold eyes piercing into him.

“I’ve requested to no longer work with him.”

“Are you stupid?” she shoots back. “Asher is the best thing that could have ever happened to you, considering what you’ve been doing.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. And I promise you, if you don’t stop, I will take everything you own. Your company will go to hell in a Birkin bag, and I will ruin your reputation worse than you ever could.”

“Empty threats,” Josh replies dismissively.

“And that will be your downfall,” Billie counters without missing a beat. “Leave.”

“Bill—”

“Do not call me that. I fucking hate it. I’ve always hated it,” she says firmly. “You shouldn’t be here. I have nothing else to say to you.”

“I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything if you give me another chance,” Josh nearly begs.

My jaw clenches tight.

“You weren’t sorry when your dick was buried in your ex while you were with me.”

Almost a minute of silence passes.

Then the door swings open, and I’m face-to-face with Josh.

I exhale sharply, aware of how this must look, even though it shouldn’t.

“You bastard!” His fists start swinging.

Billie tries to pull him away, but it’s no use. Josh lunges toward my head, and I duck just in time. With a fierce growl, he charges at me, rage radiating off him.

“You don’t want to do this,” I warn. “I’m not dating Billie.”

“You’re clearly fucking her!”

I let out a laugh. “I’ve already told you once that it’s none of your damn business what I do in my free time. ”

He swings again, but this time, I fight back. My knuckles connect with his face, and he stumbles back. He trips and falls to the floor, and I tackle him, ready to finish this once and for all. Years of resentment bubble up inside me for how he treated Billie when they were together.

“Don’t do it, Asher,” she whispers, reaching for me. “He’s not worth it. I promise.”

I lock eyes with her, then glance back at Josh’s pathetic face. “You’re so lucky she’s logical.”

Josh growls as I release my grip on him.

I stand, pinning his shoulder down with my foot, increasing the pressure. “Next time you pull some shit like that, you’ll really regret it.”

“Don’t threaten me,” he says, trying to sound tough.

“It’s not a threat,” I assure him.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell Billie as I leave her room, knowing this was a mistake.

She follows closely behind me.

“Please don’t leave,” she whispers.

“Are you begging me to stay?” I ask teasingly.

Her lips part slightly, and just as I’m waiting for her response, Josh appears behind her, face flushed with anger. He moves toward me, using all his strength to slam me against the wall. Billie screams for him to stop. His fists fly, and one connects hard with my jaw.

“Get out, Josh!” she yells as she rushes for her phone.

I throw a few punches into his cheek, but he trips me up. Moments later, we’re rolling on the floor. The front door bursts open, and when I look up, I see Brody. He’s livid, turmoil swirling in his deep blue eyes.

“What the hell? How did he get in here?” Brody yanks Josh off me, putting him in a headlock and guiding him out the door.

Billie locks it behind them as they start yelling at each other in the foyer .

“I should have you arrested for breaking your restraining order,” Brody threatens.

I furrow my brows, staring at Billie.

She steps closer, gently grasping my chin to get a better look at my jaw. “Wow,” she says, studying me. “Why are you helping me?”

“I need to go,” I admit, realizing my spontaneous decision was a terrible idea.

I pictured a nice pizza dinner, filled with conversation. Tonight has shown me that pushing boundaries with Billie is a bad call. Maybe Nick was right; I really do need a vacation because I’ve completely lost the plot. I am crashing out.

Billie moves to the counter, grabs the pizza box, and hands it to me with a sweet smile. “Thanks for the slice.”

I take it from her and open the lid. “Want another?”

“I’ll take the one on your plate. That’s enough.”

“Okay,” I say, forcing myself to walk away.

I head toward the front door, and she follows me.

I step outside, turning to respond. As I open my mouth to say something, she interrupts.

“Fuck off, Banks,” she snaps.

I give her a single nod. “Fuck off, Ice Queen.”

She slams the door in my face.

I try to hold back a smile but fail as I walk a short distance down the hallway and press my thumb against the reader of my loft. The one I secretly purchased after I took over my sister’s agency.

The knob clicks open. I step inside and flick on the lights. I’ve always loved the architecture of this building. The brick and exposed wooden beams are my favorite features. I set the pizza box down on the counter, no longer hungry, even though I was starving.

This loft, with its three bedrooms and four baths, isn’t a place I visit often. It feels empty inside, like most of the property I own— except for the townhome a few blocks away, which feels a bit more like home.

I suck in a deep breath and loosen my tie. I rummage through cabinets and drawers, even the fridge, which is stocked only with bottled and canned drinks.

As I shrug off my suit coat, a loud knock pounds at my door.

I look to see Billie with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She’s mad.

I crack the door open just enough to see her. “Can I help you?”

“You’re my fucking neighbor? Do you realize that for the past four years, I’ve been trying to find out who owned this place?”

“Mmm. What did you discover?” I ask. “That it’s an umbrella company within an umbrella company within another?”

“Exactly,” she replies through gritted teeth. “Do you get off on buying property right next to me? First, the building for your business, and now this? What’s your actual deal?”

“I only bought it to enjoy the seventy-one-foot indoor pool in the winter,” I explain. “I prefer my townhome to the loft though.”

“You paid twenty million dollars just to swim in a pool?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“Yep,” I say. “My trust fund more than covered it.”

“You’re incredibly annoying.”

“Thanks. I try .” I close the door in her face, then watch her through the peephole.

She scoffs and blinks at the door, slowly shaking her head. I think she’s in shock.

Billie places her thumb over the hole.

“You’re such a …” She stops talking. “You’ve been my neighbor, and I don’t even know what to fucking say. I can’t believe this.”

I chuckle. “There are more revelations just waiting for you, princess.”

She pounds her fist against the wood. “It’s not funny. You’re terrorizing me! ”

I swing the door open. “You’re literally the terror in this situation. Am I at your house, having a meltdown?”

Billie inhales deeply. “You know what? You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I am having a breakdown at your door because you pushed me to my fucking limit. I hope you’re happy.”

A grin creeps onto my lips as I lean against the door. “I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

“Now I’m convinced you’re the actual devil,” she says, attempting to walk away.

I grab her hand, pulling her back in front of me. “Is that why I’m so bad for you?”

“Maybe,” she says, her brow lifting playfully. “There are plenty of other reasons why.”

“List them,” I challenge, intrigued. “Tell me why you hate me, Little Calloway. I’m still not sure.”

Her breath hitches as her chest rises and falls. Her nipples are hard, clearly visible through the thin fabric of her almost-vintage T-shirt. The elevator dings open, and Mrs. Chambers, our other neighbor, catches sight of us. Her silver hair glimmers in the foyer’s overhead light. She immediately beams at us.

“I figured I’d run into you two,” she says with a wink. “Wait until LadyLux hears about this.”

“Mrs. Chambers, please, it’s not what it looks like,” Billie interjects.

She’s a feisty old woman, a widow of an oil tycoon from Wyoming. Her brother owns one of America’s most successful cattle ranches.

“Hand me your phone,” she says, holding out her palm.

I pull it from my pocket, and she opens the camera, snaps a photo, and hands it back.

“What does that look like to you?”

Billie glances at the photo, and a grin spreads across my face.

I step forward and hug Mrs. Chambers. “Thank you so much for this. ”

“Honey, I want what you’ve been drinking.”

“Delete that,” Billie pleads, reaching for my phone, but I lock it.

“No way,” I counter, blocking her every move. “This is gold.”

Mrs. Chambers strolls away. “Just have sex already.”

Moments later, we burst into laughter. Mrs. Chambers’s words linger in the air like a dare, a tempting call to sin, and then she’s gone, her door closing with a finality that feels like permission. Billie’s eyes lock on to mine. I study those lust-drunk, hate-filled eyes that have always shot daggers toward me. Now they’re molten, searing into my skull.

“No,” she breathes. Her voice trembles, as if she’s already losing the battle she started.

“Absolutely not,” I growl back, my voice rough, my cock straining against my pants.

Then she leans in, taking every damn risk in the world.

Her body slams into mine, pinning me against the doorjamb with a force that leaves no doubt who’s in control. Our lips crash together—hot and hungry—and our hate for one another evaporates like cold rain on scorching concrete. I open my mouth wider, giving her everything she craves. Logic vanishes as our tongues tangle in a filthy dance that nearly brings me to my knees.

I fucking hate the way she makes me feel. I want to ruin her, but in the best goddamn way possible.

“Asher,” she whispers against my lips, her voice ragged.

That undoes me.

She has never called me by my first name, not even when we first met.