by Claire Adams
Chapter Ten
Lilah
Asher had been away in France over the weekend for a business trip and, to be honest, I felt a little relieved to have had some distance between us. I'd been doing my best to keep him at arm's length all week at the office—and succeeding. However, I felt that my strategy was backfiring big time. It seemed as though my attempt to avoid conversation with him left him more determined to get closer to me.
A large part of me wanted him closer, but that wasn’t the part focused on keeping my job separate from my personal life. I was beginning to understand how the government felt when it tried to separate church from state.
Keeping Asher Sinclair at arm’s length was definitely among the greatest challenges I'd faced in my life. I'd finally landed my dream job, and I was on track to make a name for myself. I had set up a career characterized by power and success—yet, coupled with my goals to make it in my field was a burning desire, a hungry yearning for another human being that I hadn't felt since my ex-fiancé had left me a month before our wedding.
It didn’t help that this person was the CEO of my firm. He was the person who, quite literally, held the key to my career's success and failure in his hands.
I knew that, eventually, he would respect my wishes to keep everything professional and put my career first. He was cut from the same cloth as me, even if our backgrounds were vastly different. What we did share was a driving ambition, tireless work ethic, and almost crippling aspiration for perfection.
Since I have always been a rational person—who knows that mixing work and pleasure could easily turn into a recipe for catastrophe—I could see how things might end terribly if I decided to walk the path leading to a romantic relationship with Asher.
But another part of me was wondering if it would be a risk worth taking. A man like Asher Sinclair didn’t come around often. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that, perhaps, a relationship with Asher was a bona fide, once in a lifetime opportunity. He'd already revealed, in a number of ways, that he was nothing like the billionaire playboy stereotype that others made him out to be.
He was grounded in reality, even with his vast power and billions of dollars, was extremely disciplined, and surprisingly kind and gentle, despite his physical prowess and penchant for violent sports. He was, in many ways, a man of contradictions—an enigma, revealing small pieces of himself to me.
But why me?
That was the question I hadn't been able to shake.
I mean, sure, I was a fairly attractive woman who knew how to work a sexy business suit, and he seemed to be impressed by my drive and creativity. But was he only pursuing me to satisfy his own ego, or was there something more at play? My gut kept gnawing at me that it was the latter.
I pulled into the parking lot of the Sinclair Building and parked my car. A quick check of my watch confirmed that I was early. There were still a good 20 minutes left before I was required to be in my office.
I'd only just gotten my car back from the mechanic, and since I had spent the entire weekend relaxing with Meg while trying to temporarily forget about work—going to the spa, getting a mani-pedi, treating myself to a massage, and eating at a couple of new restaurants we’d been planning to check out—I hadn't had the chance to give over the car the once over to make sure the mechanic had done a good job.
“Well, there's no time like the present,” I said aloud, and popped the hood.
I stepped out of my car and walked around to the front of it, raising the hood. I examined the motor just as my dad had taught me, checking over fine details that the average person wouldn't have thought to look at. It seemed, thankfully, that the mechanic had done a very thorough job. I was about to close the hood when I heard the deep, raspy rumble of a sports car booming through the underground parking lot.
I looked up and saw Asher pulling up to park in a spot next to me. He rolled down his window and smiled.
“Car troubles again, Lilah?”
“Nope. Just giving the motor a once over to make sure the mechanic did what I asked him to do. So, you're in a Porsche today? Please tell me you didn’t get rid of the Maserati.”
“I told you, I collect these things,” he replied with a cheeky grin. “Variety is the spice of life.”
“Carrera GT,” I remarked, looking the car up and down. “Great car.”
“I do like it, yeah. That's a decent Beemer you're driving there, too.”
“It's been good to me. German engineering, you know.”
He revved his Porsche and smiled.
“Oh, I know, believe me.”
He killed the engine and got out as I closed the hood of my BMW and locked the car up.
“I'm surprised you're at work so early,” I said. “When did you get back from Paris?”
“Oh, my private jet touched down at 2:00.”
“This morning?”
“Yeah. I tried to sleep some on the plane, but the time change is killer. So, I'm running on about three hours of sleep right now.”
“Shouldn't you get some rest? I mean, I know how committed you are to work—as I am—but if you're sleep deprived, you're not going to get too much done.”
“I know, I know. But there are things that really have to be taken care of this morning. I'm planning to take the afternoon off to get some rest, then come back in the evening to get everything else done.”
Our eyes met, and I couldn't stop my gaze from lingering for a bit longer than it should have. However, he hadn’t looked away. What was happening? I broke the gaze first. It wasn't the time or place for moments. I needed to keep my distance until I could figure things out a bit better in my head.
“We'd better head upstairs,” I said hurriedly. “There's a lot to get done this morning, like you said.”
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Upstairs. After you.”
We walked over to the elevator and rode up together in silence. As soon as the doors opened, I made a beeline for my office, mumbling a quick “See you later” as I left him behind.
I was losing my focus, losing my edge. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was that handsome, rugged face staring back at me with an air of deep affection trumped only by desire. One thing I was certain of, it was going to be another long week of avoiding that handsome face.
***
Friday afternoon didn't seem to be the best time for a meeting, but as the most junior member of the team, I wasn’t exactly in a position to complain. Instead, I went into the boardroom, took what had become my usual seat, and waited in silence for everyone else to file in. I'd made a few friends in the office, but I wasn't in a particularly chatty mood. It had been quite a tough, trying week with a heavy workload, and mentally I was all but spent.
After everyone had come in and taken their places, Asher walked in with a broad smile on his face. Following him were a couple of waiters carrying boxes of lavishly iced donuts.
“Take a donut or two, or three if you're not too worried about your waistline,” he joked. “Because this isn’t so much a meeting as it is a celebration.”
When the box was presented to me by one of the waiters, I took a delicious-looking chocolate one with macadamia nut sprinkles and looked around the table, trying to gauge people's reactions to Asher’s announcement. Personally, it had altered my mood a bit. Where before I had been a little on the drab end of the spectrum, I was suddenly perked up and excited to hear what the celebration was all about.
Asher shot me an intense glance, and then he dimmed the lights and turned on the projector screen.
“All right, ladies and gents,” he announced. “Pay close attention to the screen. You will have seen these charts before, but I just want you to look at them again so that the images are cemented into your mind.”
He brought up the sales charts for the Harry Winston athletic watches and gave us a few moments to peruse the less than stellar figures.
“Now,” he continued, “if you all remember, a new member of our team, Ms. Lilah
Maxwell, came up with a brand new strategy for marketing these watches a few weeks ago.”
Murmurs of agreement flitted around the room.
“I've been keeping a tight lid on developments, but over the past week, the executives at Harry Winston and I have been closely monitoring sales of these watches. Now, remember, this is just one week after implementing the new campaign. Are you all ready?”
My heart was hammering in my chest. I wasn’t 100 percent sure it wasn’t about to jump into my throat and right out of my mouth. I hadn't been expecting this. I was utterly unprepared for the topic of this meeting or—as Asher had put it—celebration. Granted, the word celebration itself suggested success, but what if my ideas had bombed? I would look a failure, and a fool, in front of everyone on the team!
I reminded myself that Asher had brought us here to tell us good news. Not bad. Which meant, maybe my ideas hadn't failed.
There was no maybe involved, though.
I gasped—along with everyone else in the room—as he brought up the charts that showed the sales figures over the past week.
“Oh my God,” I murmured under my breath. “It worked. It totally, totally worked.”
“When was the last time any of you saw a spike in sales this extreme?” Asher asked, looking calmly around the room. “Seriously, people, when was the last time you saw anything like this?”
Nobody could answer. We were all dumbstruck, it seemed.
Asher slowly brought the lights in the room back to full force.
“Lilah, could you please stand up,” he said, looking at me.
I hesitated, and he nodded to encourage me. I pushed myself up on shaky legs and tried to hide the fact that my hands were trembling from the rush.
“Please, let’s give the savior of the Harry Winston campaign a hand!” he shouted. “She deserves it!”
The room erupted in a thunderous bout of applause. I was a little embarrassed to be in the spotlight and the experience had me fighting back tears of joy. Thankfully, I managed to keep my emotions in check.
“Well done, Lilah, well done!” Asher exclaimed. “Is there anything you'd like to say?”
“I . . . I just want to thank everyone on the team,” I managed to utter. “I can’t take all the credit for this. I honestly couldn't have done it without you guys. And without your support, Mr. Sinclair. Thank you for believing in me.”
Everyone applauded again and I sat down, a little light-headed from all the adrenalin flowing through my veins.
“That's all, ladies and gents,” Asher said as the applause died down. “You can head back to your offices now. Enjoy the rest of your Friday afternoon, and have a great weekend! I'll see you all on Monday.”
Everyone got up out of their chairs and started shuffling out of the room. I waited until they had left, leaving Asher and I alone in the room. I walked up to him, smiling from ear to ear.
“It worked. It really worked, Asher. It really worked!”
“I knew it would. I knew you could do it.”
“Thank you for having faith in me and trusting in my abilities.”
“I know talent when I see it, Lilah,” he replied. “And, you've got boatloads.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like to celebrate later tonight with a drink?”
Had my defenses not been down in that moment of elation, I might have been able to think clearly, but all logic and reason had flown out the window the moment I saw the sales numbers.
“I'd love that,” I replied.
“Excellent,” he beamed. “I'll message you later to make arrangements.”
***
As I was applying my eyeliner, it hit me: I'd made a promise to myself to keep my distance from Asher, to keep things professional. Yet there I was, putting on makeup and acting like a nervous high schooler, trying to decide which cocktail dress and heels to wear to the jazz lounge we had agreed to go to.
“You let your guard down. In that moment of happiness, you became so overwhelmed that you were weak! You totally let your emotions get the better of you,” I scolded myself in the mirror.
The battle was getting harder and harder to fight. But, since the joy of my success had started to wear off, my logical and rational mind started to make a strong comeback.
I couldn't do it—not yet. I just couldn't.
I dropped my eyeliner into my makeup bag and picked up my phone.
I knew what I had to do.
Hi, Asher. I hope you haven't left your place yet. I'm really sorry, but I've suddenly started to feel a little under the weather. I think it may have been the seafood I had earlier. I hate to do this, but I'm going to have to call off drinks for the evening. Looks like I'm going to be spending most of the weekend at home.
I sat down on the edge of my bathtub and put my head in my hands. I wasn’t overly pleased with myself over what I had just done, but sometimes you had to do unpleasant things to remain in control of yourself and your feelings.
My phone buzzed a minute or two later. He had replied.
Oh no, Lilah, I'm really sorry to hear that. I could come over to your place and just chill if that would be easier for you?
I typed out a quick reply, feeling terrible but knowing that it had to be done.
Thanks for the offer, but it's fine—I really prefer to be alone when I’m sick. See you on Monday.
And with that, I turned my phone off and started running a bath.
Chapter Eleven
Asher
I'd been really looking forward to having a few drinks with Lilah. Not because I had any expectations that a few drinks might loosen our inhibitions and ultimately something would happen between us again, but simply to enjoy her presence, her conversation, and the feeling of being myself around her.
Not to mention, I did want to celebrate. Her Harry Winston campaign ideas had performed phenomenally well, and I was incredibly proud of her. It was kind of obvious that she was overwhelmed at her own success and the excitement I’d seen in her eyes was something I'd wanted to share with her.
Yet, despite her keenness in that moment, her enthusiasm seemed to have not only faded, but disappeared entirely by the time the evening rolled around.
I'd put on one of my favorite suits and had even gotten my grandfather's cufflinks out. It had been as Alfred was warming up the Lamborghini for me that I got the message from Lilah cancelling our plans.
She'd claimed she was sick, but I had my doubts. It felt far more like she was searching for an excuse to get out of the evening. And while I wanted nothing more than to spend time with Lilah, I wasn't going to sit at home and mope about it. In fact, I was going to take the Lamborghini out regardless. And, I wasn't going to do it alone.
A man can only be rejected so many times before he starts thinking of other options.
I took out my phone and started looking through my contacts. One name immediately sprang out: Angeline. Twenty-three, blonde, and drop-dead gorgeous.
She was a young actress who had just started to break into Hollywood—and she had been very, very interested in me for quite some time. I messaged her.
Hey, Angeline, it's been a while! How's everything? If you're not busy tonight, I'm taking my Lamborghini out for a spin. I know how much you like supercars, so if you're free, you're welcome to come along for a drive.
I didn't have to wait very long for an answer; the phone buzzed about ten seconds after I hit the send.
Hey, Asher! Awesome 2 hear from u! I'm IN!
I typed out a hasty reply.
Pick you up from your place in half an hour?
The reply arrived almost instantly.
Perfect! See u soon... u handsome devil ;)
I didn't smile. I simply straightened my tie in the mirror and buzzed my butler.
“Sir?”
“Is the Lambo warmed up?”
“The engine is at optimal operating temperature, sir.”
“Good. I'm coming down.”
***
&
nbsp; We were cruising along the Pacific Highway, enjoying the drive. The moon was full and, to our left, the Pacific was rolling in and crashing against the cliffs below, looking like a great sea of mercury in the bright silver light. I glanced across at Angeline, who smiled flirtatiously at me. She was dressed in a flimsy, red cocktail dress that left little to the imagination.
“Thanks for taking me out,” she said. “This is such a gorgeous car.”
“It's one of my favorites in my collection,” I said.
“You got any music in it?”
“Music? You're supposed to be enjoying the sound of that beautiful, Italian motor!” I joked.
“I know, I know,” she laughed, “but hey, I need something with a beat!”
“There's a USB stick in the glove compartment that's got a bunch of music on it. Stick that in and see if there's anything you like on it. The list of tracks will come up on the media player display screen.”
“Cool.”
She reached into the glove compartment and took out the USB, which she then plugged into the car's media system. She started browsing through the tracks.
“The Razor's Edge? Who's that?” she asked, pausing on the one band I hadn’t expected.
A sudden flush of uncomfortable heat rippled through my body at the mention of the band. Immediately, thoughts of Lilah started to run through my head.
“Um, they're just a band I liked as a teenager. I don't even know why that's on there. Skip that, I don't feel like listening to that stuff now.”
“Oh, all right. Wow, you've got a lot of jazz and classical on here. Don't you have any new stuff? Skrillex? David Guetta?”
“Not really my cup of tea, I'm afraid.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Uh, if you want, you can go onto YouTube and play music from there. This system is hooked up to the internet.”
