Page 52 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
“Only?”
“Mr. Black has a lot of enemies, Ms. Ives.”
“Lucy,” I correct, absently.
His words chill me to the core. They’re yet another reminder of the dangers of knowing Asher. I suspect that whenever I look at Xavier, I’ll always be reminded of the danger I’m exposing myself to.
A part of me can’t wrap my mind around the idea of a threat large enough to necessitate the existence of such heavy security. I have to assure myself that it’s just a precaution for a wealthy man. That it’s for his corporate enemies not the criminal ones.
I remind myself that the deal I have with Asher is a good one. I’ll gain financial security for as long as this charade lasts, and after I graduate, I’ll have my job of choice with Asher’s letter of recommendation and connections. My thoughts flash to the rumors of Asher’s company acquiring IllumaGen. Working there would be a dream come true.
If I’m being honest, the benefits far outweigh the cons. Asher has no reason to hurt me now that he knows I’m not a threat. In fact, I have a security guard to protect me! There’s no way Asher’s “enemies” can get through this insane security.
Bulletproof glass and walls? Panic buttons? Panic rooms? An armory? Twenty-six guards? Rounds every half hour? This is security suitable for the president. Plus, Asher is no longer involved in the Romano family business.
… Or is he?
When the lasagna is finished, I divide it into eight large pieces and plate them. I give one to each of the guards in the security room, much to their amazement, and hand a plate to Xavier. By the time Asher gets home, I’ve just finished off the last of my lasagna and Xavier has already nabbed one of the extra pieces. He finished that one, too.
“Damn, girl,” Xavier says at the same time Asher enters our line of sight. “You can cook.”
“What’d you make?” Asher asks.
“Lasagna.” I get up and heat the remaining piece for him, because it’s technically his food anyway.
When I’m done, I set it on the place mat next to my seat. He loosens his tie and puts it on the kitchen counter before sitting down beside me. He looks exhausted, yet he still manages to appear alert. I avert my eyes as he undoes the top few buttons of his button down. Even the slightest sliver of skin is enough to tease me, so I don’t let myself look.
“You never told me you can cook.” He moans when he takes a bite.
I force away the dirty images his moan elicits and shrug. “One of my foster dads was a chef, and I loved to eat enough to want to learn how to make food. He ended up teaching me a lot.”
I also learned how to make a lot of different cuisines from all the families I’ve lived with, from Peruvian to Irish food. My Vietnamese dishes are ridiculously good, too. My Bo Luc Lac is melt-in-your-mouth delicious.
Jumping from foster home to foster home is like traveling the world in so many ways. You’re exposed to such a diverse group of people and get to learn from the experiences they give you. I’m not sure if I would have traded it all for a stable childhood and family, though I could certainly have done without some of the creeps.
Asher nods and takes another bite. The sensual way he closes his eyes and bites down sends dirty thoughts through my mind.
He swallows and turns to Xavier, who takes my dish and his to the dishwasher. “You can go for the day.”
Xavier nods, says his goodbyes to us and the rest of the security team and leaves. When he’s gone, it’s just Asher and I in the room. After the questionnaires from this morning, I’m more comfortable around him, but he still has me on edge. So, I distract myself with my stats homework, opening up my overpriced textbook and getting to work.
I’ve bitten off a chunk of my No. 2 pencil by the time Asher asks, “What’s wrong?”
I exhale deeply, reluctant to admit my failure. “I don’t understand this.”
He leans over, skims my work, and shrugs. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Fiduciary inference is outdated anyways. You probably won’t ever use it.”
“That may be, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’ll still be tested on it.”
Asher stands up and places his dish in the dishwasher along with all the other dishes Xavier brought back from the security room before he left. I try not to watch as Asher loads the dishwasher with all the kitchen utensils and dishes I used to make the lasagna. He puts soap in the machine and turns it on. It’s weird watching him perform domestic acts. It’s like watching a wild lion play fetch.
After he returns to the seat next to me, I’m shocked when he starts to explain the math to me. I listen, and half an hour later, I’m a proud pro at fiduciary inference. I almost wish that it’s used more often.
“You should’ve been a teacher,” I say, as I pack up my work into my backpack. I follow him up the stairs.
He pauses to think about it before shaking his head. “It never would have worked out. I don’t like people, and teachers deal with a lot of them.”
“So do you as a business man.”
