Page 21 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
“He’s a fixer for the mafia,” I say again.
That has to have been the tenth time I’ve said that. I don’t expect her to magically abandon her vanity and fantasies, but I can’t not bring it up. I’m still having trouble wrapping my brain around my situation.
“That’s even hotter!” She claps her hands vigorously, in Elle Woods meets Bruce Banner fashion, the movement dainty yet causing the twin-sized bed to shake. “He’s like a real life John Wick, except he’s a million times hotter than Keanu Reeves.”
I frown. “Except Keanu Reeves is actually a good person. Like, a really good person. And did you see him in The Replacements?” I fan my face. “Swoon.”
She throws her hands up, like she is the one that has the right to be frustrated with me. “You’re digressing! Asher Black is clearly the hotter one.”
She’s impossible. She’s dead-on (Asher is hotter, after all), but she’s still ridiculous. He threatened me, for goodness’ sake. Doesn’t that lower him on the Richter scale of hotness? And Keanu Reeves would never threaten me…
Plus, most of Asher’s threats were subliminal, which is even worse. It means he’s calculated. Cunning. Asher isn’t a schoolyard bully relying on brute strength, though I have no doubt that he possesses it. His greatest strength, however, is in his subtlety, the way he never reveals his hand unless he wants to. I have a feeling that he never does anything without a purpose.
“You’re digressing.” I take a seat on top of my desk and open a new pack of Starbursts. “The point is that I’m in danger. I owe a favor to the fixer for the most dangerous crime family in the country. My life is over. I might as well change my name, surgically alter my face, and move to Tajikistan… where he’ll probably still be able to track me.” I groan. “What am I going to do, Aims? This is the mafia we’re talking about.”
Aimee’s face becomes serious. When she opens her mouth and says, “Here’s what you’re going to do,” I almost expect her to give me actual advice. She doesn’t, of course. That would be asking for too much.
Instead, she says, “You’re going to dress in your sexiest dress, that LBD I’ve been eyeing for the past month, and you’re going to march up to Rogue and demand to see Asher. Then, you’re going to spread your legs for him, he’ll fuck you till he’s practically living in your V, and you guys will get married out of wedlock. But who cares? No one’s judging. Because, and I repeat, he’s so fucking hot. You’d get to look at that tight ass all day long.”
I throw a Starburst at her forehead. “Yeah, and then, after our wedding, I’ll be shot down by a rival family, but not before the poison that Asher has been slipping into my food daily kicks in. And the worst part is that he’ll get away with it, because the poison is untraceable.” I roll my eyes and huff. “Be serious, Aimee! Gosh, how is this guy not in jail already?”
But I know the answer to that question before I ask it. He’s clever, cleverer than any cop, agent, and criminal on his side and against him. That makes him untouchable. I witnessed this firsthand in the way he carries himself, his intelligent eyes always scanning for threats no matter how exposed we were and even when we weren’t. He was always on alert, ready. For what, I don’t know, and I have a feeling that I don’t want to know.
Asher isn’t just street smart. He’s also a gifted savant with a formal education most people can’t even dream of let alone handle. Coupled with his unparalleled looks, he’s the full package. It makes him lethal.
“I am serious!” Aimee sits up on my bed. A rare frown graces her pretty features. “I’m completely serious, Loosey Goosey.” She rolls her eyes at my scowl. She knows I hate that nickname. “You have an in with one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. You’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.”
“Eligible bachelor?!” I throw another Starburst at her, and when she catches it in her mouth, I throw the whole tube of them her way. I watch as all of the Starbursts fling out of the rip in the tube and land on her face. “I’m pretty sure being a criminal makes him ineligible!”
She gives me a pitiful sigh. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy. When are you going to get it?” She unwraps the Starburst that landed in her mouth and tosses it back inside, chomping on it with the grace of a gorilla.
It’s cherry. My favorite flavor. Fuck her.
“There’s nothing to get. He’s a criminal, I called the cops on him, and he was going to kill me. End of story.”
The End.
Ha! If only.
With her mouth full, Aimee replies, “But he’s a hot criminal. It’s not like he’s a pedophile, domestic abuser, or pimp.”
I groan. I’m embarrassed on behalf of my gender. “There’s no such thing as ‘hot’ crime! Crime is crime!” I make a mental note to discover the cure to Romance Stalker Syndrome.
She snorts. “Not if you look like Asher Black. Seriously, Lucy, I’m so jealous of you right now. You should have seen my face when I heard that Asher Black is dating you.”
“Jealous?! You’re crazy, Aimee. Crazy!” I lay my back on the desk, so I won’t have to look at her. “And we’re definitely not dating.”
“It sure didn’t look like it.”
“Look like it? Seriously? You saw me, and you didn’t come save me? Or at least call the police?! As a best friend, you suck.”
“I wish I was there, so I could get a long peek at his fine ass.” She pauses, and I hear some movement from her direction. “See for yourself.”
Aimee’s giant phone lands on my chest. I flip it over and look at the screen. There’s an open text on it from one of the #TeamAimee girls in our hall. The attachment is a picture of me and Asher, walking across the campus quad to Sproul.
With our hands clenched tightly together, we actually do look like a couple. He looks amazing in his suit, and in my fitted black skinny jeans, risqué top, and heeled booties, I look like somebody worthy of his good looks. I would even go as far as saying we look good together.
Even my normally unruly black locks agree with me today, settling neatly below the narrow curve of my waist. My long lashes are coated with black mascara, bringing out the vibrant greens in my eyes. Though I look exhausted, my clear skin is even naturally flushed at the cheeks. It’s from fear, but looking at the picture, I can’t tell.
