Page 99 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
It’s someone I know?
I don’t really know anyone.
Aimee? Tommy? Eduardo? Minka? Her lackeys?
They all already live “in town,” and no one from my past has the money to vacation in New York City. So, who else can it be? Asher’s hand grips mine under the table, but I can’t reassure him. Or is he reassuring me? I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. I have no idea who René might have brought.
My mind briefly considers Steve before I dismiss the ridiculous notion. No one knows about him, and I’ve changed my name. There’s no way René could’ve found him.
But I have a sinking feeling about this, even as I open my mouth and casually say, “Oh? What’s this person’s name?”
“Now that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”
And for the next fifteen minutes, René has that stupid look plastered all over his face. Even Martin, who is to René what Nella is to Minka, looks uneasy.
“There you are!” René says jovially, just as I’m shoveling lobster bisque into my mouth.
I nearly choke, knowing this has to be his secret guest, but I force myself to swallow. When I lift my head to see who it is, I almost choke again.
Because it’s Steve.
I distantly hear René introduce him to the other executives and their wives, but I’m not paying attention. Asher swings his head to face me, the concern evident, and I can’t give him the reassurance he needs.
He clearly doesn’t know who this is.
No one does, except René, who’s swiveling his head between me and Steve like the only thing that would make this better is a bag of buttery popcorn to contribute to his gut.
My first instinct is to run. To put as much distance between Steve and me as I can.
But then I remember Asher’s words.
Wheneve
r you think about running, please, remember that you didn’t run from me when I was the big bad wolf. You’re braver than you think you are.
Is he right?
Am I brave?
Sitting here, trembling and completely silent, I certainly don’t feel brave.
Asher leans closer to me, his breath light against my ear, and says, “What’s wrong?”
I can’t answer him. I can’t even appreciate his proximity. I’m shaking. I’ve been underplaying my history with Steve in my own mind, mentally denying that I have been the victim of anyone let alone a low life like Steve.
I wore the clothes he had given me like a badge of survival only I recognized, but one look at Steve, and I know that I’m wrong. I haven’t survived anything. I’m still trying to survive. It’s an ongoing process that is quickly approaching its end.
I can wear the clothes and pretend I’m okay. I can brush off a nightmare and say it’s not a big deal. I can convince myself that I’m over it, that I don’t wonder if anything more happened that night and other nights. If he’s touched me before.
But I’d be lying to myself.
Those are all lies I’ve compounded in my head. I haven’t healed. Instead, I ran.
When I catch sight of Asher, who is leaning forward, a scowl on his lips, I know I can’t run any more. He doesn’t know who Steve is, but he knows I’m scared and doesn’t like it. I can see that he’s about to do something about this even if he’s in front of Black Enterprises’ board, and while I want to let him, I can’t allow Asher to sacrifice his company for me.
Not when there’s an alternative.
Not when I can be the person he believes I am.
