Asher Black: A Fake Fiance Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 1)

by Parker S. Huntington

  On the screen is an article that literally reads, “Trouble in Paradise.” Below the headline is a picture of me walking into Carmen’s. I’m suddenly glad I’m wearing Tommy’s clothes, because I actually look good.

  Really good.

  I didn’t even consider that the paparazzi would take an interest in me, but now I’m glad I’m not in my typical hand me downs and thrift store clothes, most of which have been owned by at least three people before they even got to me.

  I read the article:

  Trouble in Paradise?

  by Justin Sider

  Hi, ladies (and gents—we see you, too)! Asher Black’s new fiancée, Lucy Ives, 20, was finally spotted—at Carmen’s Cantina sans fiancé. This is the first time she’s been pictured since rumors spread of her engagement to self-made billionaire Asher Black, 25. Hmm… Could it be that there’s already trouble in paradise for the two lovebirds? What do you guys think? We’d love to hear your thoughts on this! But let’s be real, we know you all have your fingers crossed, hoping they don’t make it down the aisle.

  I scroll down further and read a few of the most liked comments.

  Alyssa (Downey, CA): Finally he’s come to his senses! Took him long enough. We all knew that he’s too good for her.

  Hannah Marie (Richmond, VA): Like if you’d have Asher Black’s babies!

  David (Devils Lake, ND): I’d bone. Don’t even care if she’s his sloppy seconds, too.

  Aaron (El Paso, TX): Bet she has a mouth like a vacuum to match those porn star tits. Am I right or am I right?

  Disgusted, I hand Asher his phone back.

  Looking around, I notice Monica isn’t here, even though she’s usually with him this time of day. It’s only him and one of his main bodyguards, who’s sitting at the same table as Xavier. With matching goliath frames and serious, brooding expressions, the two of them are the picture of intimidation.

  I turn back to Asher. “Where’s Monica?”

  “I sent her home for the day.” At my confounded look, he adds, “Her attitude has been getting worse. She’s been getting on my last nerves. I’ll have to do something about her.”

  “But you won’t.”

  It would be done already if he really wants to. He’s not the type to wait around.

  He sends an appraising look my way. It sends goosebumps up and down my arms. I shiver a little, causing a ghost of a smile to appear on his lips.

  “I won’t,” he agrees. “It’s not a good idea to fire my long-time assistant before the vote. It won’t exactly say, ‘stable.’”

  “And after?”

  “As soon as it’s done, she’s gone.”

  I nod, relieved. She can’t stand me, and I can’t stand her. I have a contract that requires me to be here for two more years. She doesn’t. If one of us is going, it’s her.

  I think she knows it, too, and it’s causing her to be even crueler to me. She’s another Minka, only she has the power to hurt me. Speaking of Minka, I see her heading our way just as Aimee plops herself down at the table.

  “Something wicked this way comes,” I say, quoting the title of the Ray Bradbury novel.

  Aimee tears her stunned eyes away from Asher just as Minka settles herself in front of our table. There’s a screeching of chairs as Xavier and Asher’s guard stand up behind her. Asher gives a shake of his head at the two, and they both sit back down. Asher’s guard keeps his eyes on our table, while Xavier continues to scan the crowd.

  “Minka.” Aimee’s voice is curt, but it delivers a greeting more pleasant than the situation merits.

  Minka has her vulture claws out, but she isn’t focused on me or Aimee. She has her sights set on Asher, who choses that moment to wrap his arm around my shoulders. I maintain eye contact with her as I shift in my seat, snuggling closer to him until my head is resting comfortably on his shoulder.

  We’re clearly putting on a good show for her, because Minka’s hands clench tightly into little balled fists. Her eyes twitch, and she just stares at us. Behind Minka, Nella’s eyes bulge. The other girl clutches tightly onto Nella’s arm, her expression one of stupefaction.

  Minka changes her face into an angelic countenance. “Hey, Aimee and Lucy.” She sends a sweet smile our way. “We just wanted to say hi. We miss you in the dorms, Lucy.”

  Her lies are convincing. Hell, I’d believe them if I didn’t know any better.

  She eyes my shirt, her disdain clear to me as a cloudless day. “I love your new clothes. They look very expensive.” She smirks, so I prepare myself for a verbal hit. “Did you get a new job? Find a boss that pays well?”

  I wince at the obvious innuendo. She just accused me of being a whore. The allegation hits a little too close to home, because while Asher isn’t paying me to fuck him, he is paying me to marry him.

  If I’m being honest, having sex with Asher would just be a perk. He wouldn’t even have to pay me for that. If he asked, I’d spread my legs for him in a heartbeat.

  How did I get here?

  How did I get from being coerced into a false engagement to wanting to have sex with my fake fiancé?

  Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome or the fact that I’ve overcome my fear of him, but when you get rid of the fear, Asher is funny and thoughtful. It’s just sheer absurdity that he’s handsome on top of that.

  He’s the type of man a girl can fall in love with at first sight, and nobody would fault her.

  Have I become one of those girls? Someone blinded by looks? I feel like I’m in the passenger seat of my hormones, while Horny Lucy has her foot on the gas and Sane Lucy is floundering at the wheel.

  I spare a glance at Aimee. Her face is too shocked for her mouth to say anything. I can’t blame her. I can’t believe Minka is saying all this in front of Asher either. Speaking of Asher, his body has gone completely rigid beside me. My heart squeezes sharply in my chest, remembering that his mom has actually done what Minka is accusing me of.

  I shift one of my hands so it’s touching his thigh under the table and give him a comforting squeeze. I’m speechless when Asher’s hand finds mine under the table, and we link our fingers together, hidden from view by the white table cloth.

  Minka shifts her gaze onto Asher, her true purpose for being here. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She grins flirtatiously, holding onto one of her forearms with the opposite hand, so her breasts push together. “Asher, right? I’m a good friend of Lucy’s. I’d love to get to know you better.” She winks at him, and the hidden message is abundantly clear.

  I tense as Asher looks at her, his gaze slowly moving from her toes to her head. She fidgets a little under his attention, her confidence wavering slightly.

  When he’s done checking her out, I almost expect him to take her up on her offer, but he shocks me by saying, “If you’re going to be two-faced, at least make one of them pretty.”

  She takes an immediate step back, bumping into Nella and the other girl. They reach out to steady her, but their hands are shaking.

  Asher isn’t finished. “Do you make a habit of being a bitch to the woman I love?”

  Everyone looks at me, causing me to flush under the sudden attention.

  Asher leans forward, shifting his body so he’s staring her dead in the eyes as he says, “I know your type. You’re not at Wilton for a degree. You’re there to find someone to marry. Some rich sucker you can leech off of for the rest of your parasitic life.” Minka sucks in a sharp breath, but he continues ruthlessly, “Come near Lucy again, and I’ll blackball you so fast, no man in the city will dare touch you with a ten foot pole. You clearly know who I am. You know I’ll do it.”

  There’s a shocked silence before Aimee breaks it with her raucous laughter. Minka huffs and holds her head high as she walks away, but I can see the tremor in her legs. Her two lackeys follow closely after her without half of her grace.

  I’m still silent, though. No one has ever stood up for me like that. Logically, I know Asher probably did that for himself. It would have m
ade him look bad if he didn’t defend me… but even if he didn’t do this for me, I can’t help but be grateful.

  And emotional.

  I’ve been alive for over twenty years, and this is the first time anyone has ever defended me like that. I’m shocked when a few tears leak out of the corner of my eyes, trailing silently down my cheeks. I’m helpless to stop them.

  Asher turns to me, a frown marring his perfect face. “Are you okay?”

  Aimee looks uneasily between the two of us and says, “I think it’s time for me to leave.” She leans across the table and squeezes my hand. “Love you, Luce.”

  And then it’s just Asher and me.

  And my embarrassing tears.

  I lean back a little, putting some much needed distance between us. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” I take a deep, raggedy breath and force myself to calm down.

  When Asher shifts his body, shielding me from everyone else in the bar, I’m grateful. I would be mortified if Minka were to see me crying.

  “It’s not about what she said, is it?”

  It never ceases to amaze me how perceptive he is.

  I shake my head. It wasn’t Minka at all. I’m used to her saying things like that to me. Hell, she’s usually more overt with her offensive remarks. She probably toned them down because Asher’s here.

  I’m emotional because he defended me. I can’t tell him this, though. It makes me too vulnerable. So, I stay silent, waiting for him to talk.

  It takes a few minutes, but he finally speaks. “I cried the first time Vince bought shoes for me.”

  “What?” My eyes are clear now, and I’m fully turned to face him. I’m flummoxed by what he’s telling me, that he’s confiding in me to make me feel better.

  He lets out a derisive laugh. It’s empty and gut wrenching. “It was the first pair of shoes anyone ever bought me. Before that, I used to steal them from neighbors or trash bins. I fucking cried when Vince took me in and bought me shoes.”

  My heart weeps at the thought of a young Asher, crying at the first kind thing to happen to him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  His eyes look earnest and void of judgment when he says, “It’s okay to cry at kindness. This is the first time someone has stood up for you, but it won’t be the last. I’ll always look after you, okay?”

  “How did you kno—” I cut myself off.

  Of course, he figured it out.

  This is Asher Black.

  I laugh a little as I repeat the words he said to me the second time we met, “You’re different than I thought you’d be.”

  Back then, I thought he was cruel, calculated, and perceptive.

  A lethal weapon.

  I was right.

  But I was also wrong.

  He’s so much more than that.

  He’s witty, protective and also kind. This depiction of Asher is at odds with so many of my previous misconceptions of him, and I find myself promising to let my bias go. To judge Asher by the way he treats me, not what other people claim he is.

  I’ve been prejudiced from the start. I know that now.

  Asher is so much more than foregone conclusions, and what I’m learning about him, I really, really like.

  Chapter Twenty

  One man with courage

  makes a majority.

  Andrew Jackson

  The next week, I’m happy to find an invitation to Wilton’s senior networking cocktail party sitting in my email inbox. The school hosted event is an opportunity for graduating seniors majoring in the sciences to meet the who’s who of the medical field.

  It’s exclusive to the seniors graduating magna or suma cum laude. As a junior, I shouldn’t even be getting an invitation. Asher is probably behind it, and I find the gesture surprisingly sweet.

  It’s custom to take a date, so when I ask him if he’ll go with me, I’m glad Asher agrees. I’m tempted to ask him how he got me an invitation, but if something illegal is involved, I’d rather not know. Because this, an invitation to the hottest networking event on campus, is too big to turn down.

  On the day of the party, I dress in the jeweled burgundy dress Tommy made me, the first dress I tried on when he came over last week. I’m feeling confident when I step out of the bathroom, done with my light makeup.

  Asher is exiting the closet with his head down, but he looks up when he hears me. I stand still as he takes me in, his eyes traveling from my heeled feet to my hair, which is pulled up into an elegant French twist.

  “You look stunning,” he says, the compliment sounding foreign on his lips but still genuine.

  At his approval, I force myself not to make a fool of myself. I still manage to blush, which causes him to shake his head and smile. He walks back into the closet, and when he comes out, he’s wearing a tie the same color as my dress. It goes well with his all black suit and white button down.

  I’m surprised when he hands me his cuff links and lifts a questioning brow, the blackness of lust still lurking within the depths of his eyes. I’ve seen Asher put on cuff links himself at least a dozen times. He doesn’t need my help.

  I know this, but I help him anyway. When I take the cuff links from his palms and slip one into the cuff of his sleeve, my fingers brush lightly against his skin, and I immediately know why he asked for my help.

  He was giving me an excuse to touch him.

  When we get to the event, I’m surprised to see Minka there on the arm of a much older man. She scowls at me, but she wisely keeps her distance. I see her sending a worried glance Asher’s way and wonder if Minka’s date is one of the poor saps she’s trying to gold dig from.

  After we check in, Asher and I mingle around. He introduces me to a lot of people, and I’m stunned to see how well he knows all these powerful players in my field. These are influential people, all of whom seem to respect Asher. Despite his youth, he stands more self-assured than anyone else here.

  I’m proud to be on his arm.

  I’m also grateful for the way he’s careful to keep me engaged in these conversations, not as an accessory but rather a partner. He treats me like his equal, and in response, everyone we’ve talked to gives me the same respect.

  I’m ecstatic from all of the connections I’ve made by the time I head to the bar for a water with Xavier following a few feet behind me. I frown when I see Minka’s date there. He’s leaning against the bar when his eyes scan his surroundings.

  There are two drinks in front of him. He pops something—a pill, maybe?—into one of the drinks and stirs it with his finger. I stumble a little when I see where he’s headed, both drinks in hand. My eyes follow his path as he takes the drinks to a table a few feet away, where he hands the spiked drink to Minka.

  I hate Minka. She treats me poorly, has a superiority complex, and has been hell bent on making my life miserable since I met her. But she also doesn’t deserve to be drugged and who knows what else. There isn’t even a doubt in my mind that I have to do something about this. And quickly.

  I turn towards Xavier and tell him what I saw. He leads me back to Asher before he takes off with an event security guard in tow. They’re headed in Minka’s direction, so I turn away. She’s in capable hands. I know she’ll be safe now. I don’t owe her anything else.

  “Can we leave now?” I ask Asher, unsure of how Minka will react.

  If there’s a scene and she’s humiliated, I know she’ll blame me. I hope it doesn’t happen, but I don’t want to be here in the off chance that it does. That’s just asking for trouble, which I definitely don’t need in front of people that can potentially be my future bosses.

  Asher nods. We say our goodbyes to a few people before we head out, his guard following closely behind. Xavier stays behind at the event to deal with Minka’s date, so only the three of us head out the front door of the building.

  It’s a short walk back to the penthouse, so I ask Asher if we can walk before he calls his driver to pick us up. We make our way down the sidewalk adjacent to Sproul Hall,
where my statistics class is held. Asher and I are holding hands, probably to keep up appearances, but I don’t mind it. I also don’t mind that Asher’s guard is trailing behind us from a comfortable distance.

  The sidewalk is on a busy street, close to a crowded intersection. I mindlessly look at the hectic street, watching the congestion of cars slowly passing by in traffic. There are bicyclists and motorcyclists swerving in and out of the traffic, bypassing the gridlocked cars.

  I smile when I see a funny duo on a matte black Ducati. There are two men on the bike, but they’re so ripped they can barely fit together on the seat. I’m trying not to laugh, but a little chuckle slips through.

  Asher hears it and follows my line of sight. I frown, reacting to his narrowed eyes. I look back at the duo, trying to see what he’s seeing in those calculated eyes of his, when I spot it, danger and death wrapped in a sleek package.

  A gun.

  The one in the back locks his eyes on me and reaches for the weapon. Asher and I react at the same time, and all Hell breaks loose. He tries to pull me behind him, but I’m already moving at the same time. When the bullet pierces through the air, I accidentally push him into its trajectory.

  It hits him square in the chest.

  Meanwhile, I’m safely crouched on the ground, shielded by his falling body. The world moves in slow motion as I watch him fall. No way he survived that, I think, but I’m proven wrong when he reaches behind his back with both hands.

  He pulls out a gun in each hand and shoots. Two shots ring out simultaneously, moving in the direction of the motorcyclists that are zipping away. A bullet hits each of their moving forms at the same time Asher finally falls and lands.

  On me.

  I push him off of me gently, careful not to touch the guns nor his chest. My eyes are wide as I search his torso with my eyes and fingers for a bullet hole. I see a circular gap in the middle of his button down, but there’s no blood seeping into the shirt.