Aimee isn’t done embarrassing me. “I bet he’s huge. What is he? 8 inches? 9? Don’t tell me he’s, like, a one incher. I swear, I’ll be so disappointed. I won’t be able to look at another dick again.”
I leap up, trying to snatch the phone from Asher’s hand. But he’s unsurprisingly quicker than me, pausing the message before tackling me onto the bed. He has both my wrists bound with one of his hands and my body trapped beneath his. I hold my breath and close my eyes. His whole body is intimately pressed against mine, so I can’t think straight.
Then, he presses play on the message again with his free hand.
“Gosh, could you imagine having sex with Asher Black? If anybody deserves it, it’s you after that three year dry spell.”
Two, I want to correct, but what’s the point?
That’s still a long time.
I groan and peek an eye open. Asher is grinning, which actually makes him look human. It reminds me of the time I went to Disneyland with my group home on a weekday, and there was no line for Space Mountain. I went on the ride again and again and again that day, wanting to draw out the rare gift until I couldn’t anymore. I want to do the same with Asher’s smile, because there might not be a next time.
I think about snatching my iPhone out of his hands and taking a picture. But not before deleting the voicemail, of course. This is the largest I’ve ever seen Asher smile, and it’s naturally at my expense.
Aimee is the worst best friend ever.
“Tell me if he makes you orgasm,” she continues. “I bet you’ll have multiple orgasms.” Aimee yawns. “Asher Orgasms. They’re probably so good that they deserve their own name. Ashorgasms? Ashgasms? As—” There’s a loud snore. Aimee fell asleep over the phone.
We wait for more, Asher’s body still pressed against mine, but after thirty more seconds of snores, he ends the voicemail. I note that he doesn’t delete it.
“Ashgasms?” he asks.
“Shut up,” I say, very aware that he’s still on me and my hands are still bound by his.
He dips his head lower, nuzzling his face into my neck before whispering into my ear, “She’s not wrong, you know. The things I can do to you will ma—”
Of course, that’s when Monica chooses to show up, not even bothering to knock.
“Ashe—” she pauses when she sees us, a harsh look instantly crossing her face.
The things he can do to me will what?! I need to know. I immediately hate Monica for interrupting us. I mentally thank her for it, too. Who knows what would have happened if she didn’t?
I take a moment to study her for the first time. She’s pretty. Really pretty, with pale blonde hair, wide blue eyes, a petite frame and endlessly long legs. Naturally, she’s also well-dressed and has on nude pumps painted a famous red at the soles. All in all, she looks like someone more suited to be Asher’s fake fiancée than me.
I’m not jealous, though. If I’m going to get through this experience unscathed, I can’t like him like that. I can’t even think like that. Asher still has dangerous mafia connections, and while I know him pretty well after hours of going over green card questionnaires and am confident he won’t hurt me, it still isn’t enough to form a real relationship bond that only time is capable of. And without that bond, I have no justification for jealousy.
So, yeah… that little clench I feel in my heart?
That’s not jealousy.
Nope!
Not even a little!
I eye her ridiculously long legs again.
Is my face turning a little green?
Monica is still staring at me with narrowed eyes when I’m done with my perusal of her. Her eyes focus on my hands, which are bound by his, and I realize that our position looks way too intimate. To be fair, it feels that way, too.
Judging by the pained look on her face as she sees Asher and me in a compromising situation, I realize that she’s not stupid for working for the same company—the same man—for more than half a decade without a promotion. She’s stupid for doing all that because she loves her boss despite the fact that he clearly doesn’t feel the same way.
And he definitely doesn’t.
I could tell this when he dismissed her so easily earlier, his tired tone I now know was from exhaustion over her infatuation. I can tell this now, too, in the way that he doesn’t give a damn about how close we are, that we’re doing this in front of her. He’s still looking at me, a stormy expression in his exquisitely blue eyes.
The things I can do to you will…
Gosh, I still want him to finish that sentence.
It is Asher’s unnerving attention that makes me sit up quickly, pushing him away. He lets me, though I feel even more self-conscious without him covering me. My legs are in plain view under his t-shirt, which hitched high up my body when he tackled me. I push it down, thankful that it didn’t raise high enough to reveal my girly bits. Jumping up, I pretend to be unfazed.
“Let my help you with that,” I say, eyeing the takeout bags in her arms.
She has two bags, which look to be holding more than just the Pad Thai and Pad See Ew Asher and I ordered. That’s fine by me. The more food the merrier.
She pushes my hand away and says, “Nonsense. I can do it.”
I hold my hands up in mock surrender, hiding my smirk at the annoyed look on Asher’s face. She’s his assistant. If she irritates him, he should show her the door. From what I’ve seen, she’d just walk back in… without knocking.
We follow Monica downstairs, my stomach grumbling a few times along the way. I shove Asher with my shoulder when it makes him laugh for the millionth time. Monica looks on in contempt.
I almost feel bad for the girl. She clearly has the hots for him, and here I am, a complete stranger in a position she desperately wants to be in. She’s been here for five years. I’ve been here for just over a day, and I’ve made more progress. That has gotta suck.
I watch as she unloads the bags. I’m right. There are three takeout containers instead of just two. She places the three of them down on the dining table. The one labeled “Pad Thai” is placed on the tablemat on the left of the one labeled “Fried Rice.” On the place mat to the right of the Fried Rice, she places Asher’s Pad See Ew. I see what she’s doing. She’s putting herself between Asher and me, separating us so she can sit next to him.
Asher studies her as she takes a seat. She has a nonchalant expression pasted on her face, but I see how tense her shoulders are. Does she really think she can pull this coy shit on someone as smart as Asher?
Asher doesn’t sit. Instead, he grabs both of our food containers and makes his way into the living room. “You’re welcome to stay in the penthouse while you eat your food, Monica, but Lucy and I will be eating ours over here.”
He’s drawing boundaries between them, and I wonder how often he has to do this. From the look on Monica’s face, I would say it’s not often enough. She looks crestfallen and heartbroken rather than used to it. I briefly wonder if they have a history together. If they do, I need to know about it if I’m going to play his fake fiancée well.
When I take the seat on the floor next to him, I say under my breath, “Is she going to be a problem?”
Asher shakes his head, opening my takeout box for me. It’s placed on the coffee table in front of us.
“Nah. She just has a little crush on me.” He hands me a fork after I shake my head at the chopsticks he offers me.
“Little?” I snort, my voice still low. I point back and forth between us. “I take it she knows that this is fake?” I remember that she was the one to drop off the green card questionnaires.
“Yeah,” Asher sighs. “It can’t be helped. She’s my assistant, so she has to know everything. She signed an NDA as part of her employee contract, though.”
“And you trust her?”
“She hasn’t let me down thus far.”
I nod, but my mind isn’t at ease. Over the past 24 hours, I’ve come to realize that I have something to l
ose in this, too, beyond the financial benefits. I’m already a part of this. My fate was sealed as soon as I was introduced to people as Asher’s fiancée.
If word gets out that I lied about this, that we are lying about this relationship, my professional reputation will be ruined. New York City is a big city, but Asher’s celebrity is even bigger. Being branded a liar so publicly will ruin my job opportunities here. My future here.
And all it’ll take for everything to come crashing down is Monica opening her mouth about what she knows. She likes Asher. I sympathize with that, but it doesn’t mean I like the power her knowledge has over me. She has the motive to hurt me, and I’ll be damned if I let that happen.
The thought sends a dark shudder down my back.
Chapter Fourteen
Courage does not always
roar. Sometimes courage is
the quiet voice at the end of
the day saying, "I will try
again tomorrow."
Mary Anne Radmacher
Asher leaves with Monica after we finish eating. He has some commercial properties to look at and clients to meet, and I have packing and homework to do anyways.
The smug look on Monica’s face when she walks out of the penthouse with Asher annoys me. I’m not jealous that they’re spending time together. I’m irritated that she has the power to ruin my future, and judging by how petty she was earlier and the faces she makes at me when Asher’s not looking, she seems like the type to use it.
I am left with strict instructions to return to my dorms with one of Asher’s guards and discretely clear my dorm room. I text Aimee, informing her that I am on my way, and forward my ironclad leasing contract to Asher’s email address before I leave. He promised that he’ll get it nullified when he has the chance, and it will be like I never even signed it.
And my name is Aphrodite, and I invented the orgasm.
I can be delusional, too.
While Xavier, the guard that scanned the VIP level for bugs two nights ago, drives me to Vaserley, I consider what I will tell Aimee. As my best friend (well, my only friend), she needs answers and probably won’t stop until she gets them.
I don’t think she’ll tell anyone that my relationship with Asher is fake, but I don’t want to take the chance. As much as I like her, I’ve only known her for about a month, after all. Plus, I already signed an NDA, so I legally can’t tell her anything anyway.
On the other hand, I know that Aimee has a pretty good nose for bullshit. She’ll recognize if I’m lying to her, and I have to tell her something. If it can’t be a lie, the only alternative is the truth.
Plus, she’s aware of the timeline of our relationship. She thinks that Asher and I have only really just met yesterday. She’ll call bullshit on a one-day engagement, and so will anyone else if they know that Asher and I only just properly met.
But as far as the rest of the world is concerned, Asher and I have looked as cozy as a couple should each time we’ve been seen in public together. For instance, when he stalked me around campus, he always either had his arm around my shoulders or held my hand in one of his. When I was at his club two nights ago, the staff gave Aimee and me the VIP treatment, immediately ushering us to Asher on the VIP level.
I also practically dry humped Asher on the dance floor in front of everyone, but I don’t want to think about that. It’s currently the Voldemort of my life right now, never to be named nor spoken about.
Anyway, the cherry on top is that we left the club together, we went to dinner with his family, and I just left Asher’s place after staying with him the whole weekend, although I did so out of his private garage in a black town car with windows tinted pitch black…
Asher’s favorite color, of course.
I go over our relationship cover story again: The first night I went to Rogue, we locked eyes and it was love at first sight. He followed me outside, where we talked and had our first kiss. When I left, I forgot my phone in the restroom due to the chaos.
Asher was so taken by me, he tracked me down, using my phone as an excuse when what he really wanted was a date. By the time he found me and gave it back, I already had a new phone, but I was still moved by the gesture. I agreed to the date, and we’ve been dating in secret ever since. He proposed to me last week outside of Rogue, where we had our first kiss.
It’s like a modern day Cinderella story, only I lost a burner phone not a glass slipper.
And it’s also a botched version of the truth, which just makes it easier to remember. Of course, we switched the timeline a little, so he supposedly found me three weeks ago, and we fell quickly in love. Even though it would be more realistic, we can’t press the timeline back any further, since I only arrived in the country a month ago on the first night I went to Rogue.
We’ll just have to work harder to sell how smitten we are.
Joy.
“We’re here, Miss Ives,” Xavier says, as he pulls the car into one of the visitor’s spots.
“Lucy,” I correct, automatically.
I sigh, because I still haven’t figured out what to do about Aimee. I decide to just ask Asher. I text him on the number he programmed into my phone days ago in the top secret lab.
Lucy: What do I tell Aimee?
Asher: Xavier has an NDA for her to sign.
Lucy: K…
I frown. It took Asher less than a minute to reply, almost as if he had been waiting for the text. And Xavier is already prepped with an NDA catered to Aimee? This feels like a setup, my first test of loyalty.
I would bet my life that Asher wanted to know whether or not I’ll break my NDA to tell Aimee about us. I didn’t. I passed this first test, but what about the next? And what would have happened if I hadn’t passed?
Xavier follows me into the building. We pass one of the students manning the front desk. Her eyes widen when she sees Xavier. I understand her reaction. He’s tall, handsome and well-built, even under the fabric of his suit.
But he isn’t as handsome as Asher. Because of Asher, I’m quickly becoming immune to attractive men. My heart doesn’t even quicken when I enter my hall and catch sight of Kyle, my hall’s program coordinator and Vaserley Hall’s very own heartthrob.
Kyle is a senior. Not only is he brainy, but he’s also tall and super attractive in the all-American, Abercrombie and Fitch kind of way. Aimee and the other girls in the hall were obsessed with him as soon as they laid eyes on him. Even I thought he was hot when I first met him the day after the whole Rogue incident that left me walking around with my tail tucked between my legs for a month.
I still think he’s attractive, and this is post-Asher engagement… but I resent him, nevertheless. He’s actually the original source of the Minka vs. Aimee rivalry. Both of the girls think they saw him first, and both of them want him, never mind the fact that R.A.s and P.C.s are not allowed to hook up with their residents.
“Hey, Luce,” Kyle greets me. “Whoa.” His eyes widen when he sees Xavier.
Vaserley is a co-ed dorm, and bringing people of the opposite gender into our rooms is allowed, but I think Kyle is dazed because I’m one of the few who have yet to do it. Up until now, that is.
It’s not that I’m opposed to the idea. It’s just that I’ve been too focused on staying alive after calling the cops at Rogue to even consider meeting boys. Now, I’m fake engaged to one and bringing another into my room. It’s crazy how much has changed in just one weekend.
“Kyle, this is Xavier,” I say. And because he’ll probably find out soon enough, I add, “He’s helping me move out.”
“You’re moving out?” Kyle looks blindsided.
“Yep,” I confirm, but I don’t add anything else. It’s none of his business. That was just a courtesy notice.
I step past him, while Kyle and Xavier do some weird head nod greeting that I always see guys do. When I walk into my room, Aimee is already laying on my bed, patiently waiting for me. She sits up as soon as she sees me.
Before she can tal
k, I hand her the NDA I got from Xavier in the car and say, “You have to sign this before I can tell you anything.”
Aimee’s eyes widen as she scans the NDA. “Oh, my Gosh! This is so exciting. It’s like you’re dating a real life Christian Grey. Is he into BDSM? Does he want you to be his submissive?” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Does he have a red room at his place?”
I flush at the idea of Asher using me as his submissive. Then, I rub at my temples, trying to fight the burgeoning headache Aimee’s bringing on with her fire round of questions. “Sign first. Then, I’ll talk.”
She nods and signs, just like that. I don’t even think she fully read the NDA. Before I can say anything, Xavier enters the room behind me, bumping the door into my body, which was in its trajectory. I fall to the ground, landing on one of Aimee’s spiky heels and scraping my palms against the sharp point. It draws blood, and I glare at Aimee for leaving her shit all over the place, but she’s too busy looking at Xavier.
“Fuck. Sorry, Miss Ives,” Xavier says. The curse sounds funny juxtaposed beside the formal use of my last name.
“Lucy,” I correct.
Again.
After all, Xavier works for Asher not me.
He helps me up, and I’m amazed when Aimee remains silent. She’s studying Xavier with the scrutiny of a FBI profiler.
“Aimee, this is Xavier. Xavier, this is my roommate, Aimee.”
Xavier nods at Aimee. “Hello.”
He holds his hand out for her to shake, but she leaves him hanging. There’s another minute of silence before a look of understanding spreads across her face.
She whips her gaze from Xavier to me and says, “You kinky bitch! You had a threesome, didn’t you?” She waves the NDA that is still in her hands. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?! You didn’t even think to invite me?! That hurts! Do you guys need a fourth?” Her eyes rake over Xavier’s form as she licks her lips. “I volunteer as tribute!” She stands up and lifts a leg and an arm in a buzz light year pose.
“Aimee,” I groan. “That’s Buzz Lightyear. You’re trying to do Katniss Everdeen.”
Asher Black: A Fake Fiance Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 1) Page 12
