Page 24 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
What. The. Fuck.
I’m going to kill her. She must be determined to turn me into a homicidal maniac. Maybe then will her fantasies of Asher and I living happily ever after actually be realistic. I glare at her, hoping that the longer I glare the more likely I am to forget that she just told Asher I need to get laid.
I am so mortified.
Asher laughs. It actually sounds genuine, but a part of me doubts that it is. Everything about this man is too controlled, too purposeful. Like if he doesn’t benefit from something, he won’t do it. So, what does he gain from having me up here? From laughing at me?
He meets my eyes. “Well, I think I can help you take care of that.”
Wait… Is he actually acknowledging our hook up?
His words are said so suggestively, so flirtatiously, that I can’t conceal my shock. Aimee even gasps.
My face whips to his so quickly, I’m left dizzy for a brief moment. “What?” I whisper under my breath, but he hears it.
There’s mirth in his blue eyes when he continues, “The club is at maximum capacity tonight. There are plenty of suitable candidates below. You’re welcome to bring one you like up here for some more privacy.”
“Oh.”
I thought… Never mind what I thought.
My eyes narrow on him. I feel like he’s toying with me again, expecting me not to take him up on his offer. To instead sit here and pine for him like I have no other options.
So, I do the opposite of what he thinks I’ll do and agree. “Okay. I think I’ll do just that.”
I get up and leave. When I’m halfway to the stairs, I can’t help but turn back to stare at him, a smug grin on my face. But he isn’t even looking at me. He has his phone out, his mouth frowning slightly at the screen. Aimee’s not looking at me either. She’s too busy stealing peaks at his crotch.
The damn traitor.
I sigh and continue toward the staircase. From my vantage point at the top of the stairs, I scan the club for anyone that’s my type. Of course, no one looks interesting after seeing Asher here.
I choose a random guy to dance with. He’s cute and well-dressed, but he’s also significantly shorter than me and a little smelly. To be honest, I’m only dancing with him because he secured a position on the dance floor that has the perfect view of the staircase leading to the VIP level.
I tell myself that I’m only interested because I left Aimee up there with an alleged killer. I have to make sure she’s okay. It’s the responsible thing to do. Any good friend would do it, right? But when Aimee descends the stairwell and is replaced by the blonde from The Hallway Incident, I don’t go anywhere.
Aimee is down here, safe and alive, but I still can’t move. I don’t understand myself. I watch and wait, even when Smelly Guy wraps his arm around my waist and tugs me closer, invading my personal bubble with his putrid odor.
I endure his scent of pickled cabbages, focusing all of my brain power on the stairs until I can no longer smell it. And when Blondie finally descends with a livid expression plastered all over her pretty face, I can finally breathe again. I regret it instantly.
Two words: pickled cabbages.
Gross.
I can’t take the scent anymore, so I push away from the guy, mumble a quick thanks and head to the dance floor to find Aimee.
“He kicked me out,” she says as soon as she lays eyes on me. “Some chick came up to us, and he kicked me out.” She grins, mischievously. “She was glaring at me the whole time, too. I think she was jealous that I had him all to myself.”
I think I am a little jealous of her myself, but I’m having a hard time admitting my own stupidity
Nope.
I don’t have Romance Stalker Syndrome.
No way.
I wait for her to say something more, but she doesn’t. We dance instead, losing ourselves in the rhythm of the music. When strong hands slip around my waist from behind and Aimee’s eyes widen, I know that they’re Asher’s.
A part of me is convinced that I knew he was there before he even touched me. I’m definitely crazy. That’s for certain.
