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ASHER

THE NEXT DAY

W hen 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 four hundred 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.

“How’s life?” Johnny asks, pulling me from my thoughts. He leans across the bar. His mustache is curled at the ends. The guy is in his late thirties, bought the place from his uncle, and made it a dive bar.

I love it in here. It’s everything I’m not.

“Busy,” I tell him with a smile, lifting the glass.

A blonde sits on the stool next to me, giving me a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say.

“I’m Mel,” she says sweetly. “Short for Melody.”

“Hello, Mel. I’m Asher.”

“Asher,” she repeats. “It’s very nice to meet you. Can I buy you a drink?” she asks.

Flirty. Attractive. Confident. This woman knows exactly who she is without apology.

“Unfortunately, no. I insist on buying you one. I’m a gentleman.”

She grins wide. Perfect teeth. Plump lips. “I won’t say no.”

Mel orders a cosmo with a wink. “What do you do?”

“Survive,” I tell her.

“Oh, you’re one of those types. An intellectual. Let me guess. A software bro? Or do you own a start-up?”

“Nope,” I admit.

“Are you a struggling artist who’s always sad and in his feelings?”

I chuckle. “Do I give off those vibes?”

“It’s the scruff.”

Laughter spills out. “I didn’t realize I signed up to be roasted by a stranger.”

“A stranger. For now. Asher, I think I’d like to get to know you.”

I turn toward her. “Why?”

“It’s your confidence and style. It’s sexy.”

I shoot down my drink and order another round. “You flatter me.”

“I don’t waste time. Tell me about yourself,” she says.

I take another shot of bourbon. Johnny’s pouring extra.

“I’m boring. A total dickhead.” I give her a smile, keeping details out of our conversation .

“You’re in luck because I actually enjoy dickheads. But I dunno about the boring part. Hmm.”

I laugh. “Do you live close by?”

“My sister does. I’m visiting for the next few weeks before I return to Europe. Wanted to welcome spring in the city.”

“Spring in New York is an experience. Especially in the park.”

“Reading in Central Park is on my to-do list while I’m here.”

“What do you do?” I ask.

“Guess,” she says.

I create space between us. My eyes slide over her clothing and her style.

“You’re an artist. A photographer.”

“Close.” She laughs. “I’m a tattoo artist.”

“You’re a tattoo artist? That’s cool,” I say. “Do you have ink?”

“Yes. But I’d have to privately show you,” she says, giving me a wink.

We continue making small talk, never discussing anything too deep.

Too many shots later, and we’re drunk.

She leans in. “Take me home with you.”

“Really?” I ask, not remembering the last time I had a one-night stand.

We stumble the two blocks to my place, laughing and kissing on our way inside. She pushes me back on the couch. Her lips are on mine, and she straddles me. I’m lost in her touch, in her mouth, growing hard beneath her.

“Who’s Billie?” she asks between kisses.

“Excuse me?” I blink up at her, knowing I’m too intoxicated for this. Am I being pranked?

“You called me Billie,” she whispers against my lips.

My eyes bolt open, and I pull away from her. “I did?”

“It’s okay. Call me whatever you want. I don’t care.” She shakes her head, unbuttoning my shirt. Her eyes light up as she sees the tattoos splashed across my chest. Seconds later, her mouth returns to mine.

I try to get lost in her taste, in her touch, but I can’t.

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I can’t do this,” I say with a sigh.

She sits back on the cushions. “It’s fine. So you’ve got a thing for this guy—no big deal.”

I chuckle. “Not a guy.”

“Okay,” she says. “If you want to have fun later, call me. I’ll be in the city for a few more weeks. I’ll rock your world, Asher.”

“Mel, I’m so sorry.” I sigh, frustrated with myself.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I get it. I know what it’s like to be in love with someone, but trying to forget them.”

“That’s not what this is,” I try to explain as I follow her to the door.

“You’re so damn cute,” she says, gently kissing me on the cheek.

“Please let me call you a car,” I offer.

She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m just around the corner.”

“Okay.” I give her a nod.

“I hope to see you around,” she says as she walks down the stoop.

I lean against the doorjamb, watching her walk away. Then I see the photographer across the street, snapping photos of me.

“Fuck,” I groan, moving back to the couch with a raging hard-on. Now I’m frustrated as fuck with myself and sick of Billie Calloway.

The Calloway Curse is true. She’s ruining everything!

I walk into work the next morning, whistling, but I’m in a shit mood. I’m trying to use reverse psychology on myself. Can’t believe I denied having incredible sex with a cute little blonde. I can’t believe Billie’s name fell out of my mouth. I’m going insane—I have to be.

After I grab a cup of coffee from the break room, I enter my office.

Seconds later, Nicolas—my brother and partner—enters. He’s six years older than me, and he’s actually my half-brother, but I didn’t know what that meant, growing up. Nicolas Banks is my dad’s love child from an affair he had on my mother. It used to bother Nick when we were younger, but now he doesn’t give a shit.

“Good morning,” he says with his dress shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. It’s barely past seven, and he looks like he’s put in a full day of work. “How is it that everything magically works out in your favor? I swear you have a genie in a bottle or something. I was just catching up on the meeting notes from yesterday.”

“My intuition about a company is never wrong,” I state, smirking, excited about how successful the next quarter will be for the firm.

“I wish I had that skill,” he admits. “Might save me some heartache.”

“Oh, it doesn’t work with women. My superpower only extends to businesses that make over six figures.”

“Lame,” he tells me, glancing at the sign plastered thirty feet across my window. He points at it. “So, about that .”

“Ah, you noticed.” I turn and look at it proudly. “Isn’t it great? A twenty-four-hour troll. I honestly should’ve thought of it sooner.”

“Bellamore isn’t on our quarterly agenda,” Nick says, repeating what Lauren said yesterday. “My stepsister says things didn’t go well during your meeting.”

“It’s gross when you call Harper your stepsister like that. You’re nearly forty.”

He laughs. “Her dad literally married my mom six months ago; she’s my stepsister. What happened when you spoke?”

“Billie doesn’t want my help,” I say. “That was to be expected. Why is everyone concerned that I might help Bellamore? Is there something more I should know about her company?”

“No. Bellamore is solid.” He meets my eyes. “It’s just that the board grows uncomfortable when you go off script. You can only handle so much.”

“Luckily, I don’t need the board’s approval when volunteering my time.”

“You’d give Billie Calloway a golden ticket to you?” He blinks at me like I’m an idiot. Maybe I am. “If you work with her, even on a volunteer basis, we can’t accept Lustre’s contract. We’d lose a three-billion-dollar contract, Ash. Have you lost your mind?”

“Don’t make me remind you again that this has never been about the money.”

He gives me a small smile. “I know. I apologize. Eden would be so damn proud of what you’ve built. This is what she always wanted, and you made her dream come true.”

“Thank you.”

Just hearing my older sister’s name makes me miss her so fucking much. She was four years older than me, and we were close. The only reason this firm exists is because of her.

“For the record, if I don’t work with Lustre, it won’t be because of the Ice Queen. I just haven’t fully decided if I can trust Josh yet. I’m having drinks with him soon. If it goes well, then I’ll move forward.” I point to the sign over my head. “And I’ll help him destroy her out of spite.”

“You say that without remorse.”

“Maybe it’s time I give her a real reason to hate me.” I pick up my lucky baseball that I keep on the corner of my desk and toss it in the air a few times.

“I look forward to watching this play out. One of them will be sacrificed. Which one do you like more?” He stretches his hand, catching it.

Nick tosses it a few times before giving it back.

“You’re asking me to compare two different-sized turds. They’re both pieces of shit. They’re both horrible options. I’d rather not work with either. However, it’s a good opportunity for the firm. It could bridge a gap between fashion and advertising in a way that’s never been done before. I have some ideas, and whoever I choose will benefit the most,” I explain.

He chuckles. “Tonight, I’m meeting Dyson for drinks. Would you like to join us?”

Dyson is our older brother; he’s forty-one and the CEO of our family’s company, Banks Finance. When my father retired, Dyson took over so the company wouldn’t be controlled by someone who wasn’t family. It was always supposed to be me, but I decided to continue forward with my sister’s legacy and took over her firm. It only took me two years before we were at the top, changing the lives of so many. Thankfully, all the traveling I did in my twenties paid off. I found investors, expanded the business, and used my contacts to forge connections between various industries.

“We’ll be at the bar by his house around eight,” Nick says.

“I appreciate the invite, but I can’t. I have tons of work to catch up on before the end of next week. I’m working from home because of it.”

He gives me a pointed look. “Will you ever forgive him?”

“I don’t know,” I state.

He dated a woman I thought I was in love with. I wasn’t. However, it hurt to know that Dyson didn’t respect my boundaries. I lost trust in him the day he asked Emma out.

“Do you think we’re cursed?” I ask Nick.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think we’re incapable of being in a relationship, just like our father? Look at Dyson. You. Me. The three of us are in the same boat with our relationships. Maybe it’s bred into us,” I say, throwing the ball into the air.

The conversation isn’t that serious; Nick knows how I’ve felt about this for months. I need more time.

“Look, I’ve done some shitty things in relationships. Ruined my best friend’s soon-to-be wedding. But I’m not a bad person. He isn’t either. I think the problem we each have is, we fall hard and fast, and when that happens, we lose our logic. Dad was the same way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

I smile. “I’m glad he fucked your mom.”

“I’m glad he decided to re-fuck your mom,” he tells me with a laugh. “I think it would’ve been lonely, being an only child.”

Nick also has an older half-sister, but she was never around. It was always just us. He was the cool older brother who snowboarded competitively and played hockey professionally. It’s how he became best friends with Zane Alexander. Years later, he ruined that brotherhood. To make things even more awkward, they are now officially stepbrothers. He’s currently trying to repair their friendship that’s hanging by a thread.

“Just to play devil’s advocate, you and Emma had been over for three months when Dyson asked her out,” Nick says. “And you weren’t supposed to be at that party.”

“Hmm. Maybe your stepsister shouldn’t have invited me,” I tell him. “He knew how I felt about Emma. We’d talked about it in depth. He knew I would’ve married her.”

“I get it.” Nick sighs. “But I don’t think you were in love. The two of you were much better friends.”

I smile. “Maybe I wasn’t, but I could see myself falling in love with her. And it felt like a betrayal. He never apologized.”

He nods. “That’s why you should come tonight. Give him an opportunity.”

“Maybe some other time,” I say.

“I just don’t want you to regret something,” Nick tells me.

“He can make the effort if he cares. Now, can we talk about something else?”

Nick’s brows crease as he looks behind me. Then he suddenly bursts into laughter. I turn in my seat to see Billie directing someone on a ladder as a sign is hung. It says ASSHOLE in big letters with several exclamation points behind it .

I smile, interlocking my fingers together. “Oh, she wants to play.”

Billie glances at me, and I wave. She glares and then returns to her desk.

“Little Calloway has spirit. Gotta give her that.” His phone buzzes. “Shit, I’m supposed to be in a meeting. I’ll catch you later.”

“Sure.” I give him a nod, turning back to my desktop, trying to push thoughts of her out of my head.

“You think she’ll cave?” he asks, moving toward the door.

“Eventually,” I tell him. “She loves Bellamore. She’ll do whatever it takes to save it.”

“Even work with you?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say confidently. “Or I’ll make her regret it.”