Page 33 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
I’ve officially agreed to move in with Asher Black.
Chapter Ten
Courage is what it takes
to stand up and speak.
Courage is also what it takes
to sit down and listen.
Winston Churchill
There are a lot of cars in Asher’s garage. I can’t imagine they’re all his, especially since some of them are carbon co
pies of one another. Asher leads me past the line of cars and into an elevator that’s located in his private garage. It takes us straight to the penthouse.
I’m impressed to find that, instead of elevator music, the news is playing in the background. It’s a rerun of a Mad Money episode from yesterday, in which the host discusses Black Enterprise’s rumored acquisition of IlluminaGen, a pharmaceutical company whose work I am actually intimately familiar with through my coursework at Wilton.
I turn to Asher and lift a questioning eyebrow.
He smirks. “I can’t say anything about that.”
A grin graces my lips as I tease, “Not even to your fiancée?”
The grin slips from my lips.
What the Hell was that?
His face turns serious. “Hey. No second thoughts, okay?”
I nod, but I’m still frowning by the time the elevator doors open. The elevator leads to a hallway with a single door in it, the entrance to his apartment. After we enter, I am in awe as Asher gives me a tour of the main area.
The kitchen is large, with clean and shiny state of the art equipment. The penthouse has an open floor plan, so I can see the kitchen, the living room and dining area at once. It makes the already oversized space even larger. This amount of room is almost unheard of in New York City.
“The whole place is bullet and soundproof. There’s a panic button in each room.” He points to the one in the kitchen, which is hidden in one of the cabinets. “If you press it, my guards will come in.” At my widened eyes, he adds, “Don’t worry. It’s just a precaution. No one involved with any of the families would dare come after me. It’s really just protection against corporate espionage now.”
I nod dumbly, even though I’m not even processing half of what he’s saying. I’m too overwhelmed by the grandeur of the place and terrifying words like “espionage,” “bullet” and “panic.” Ignoring a wide hallway on the first floor, Asher leads me up a spiral stairwell and straight to a bedroom. It’s large, spanning at least 800 square feet.
No way is this a guestroom, but I ask just in case. “Is this the guestroom for me?”
Asher shakes his head. “It’s my bedroom. The master.”
It’s surreal standing in his bedroom. There’s a sitting room that leads into another room for sleeping, separated only by an archway the width of a school bus. In the main area of the room, there’s a bed in the center and a large flat screen television set. The bed is a giant Alaskan king, covered in silky black sheets, a black down comforter and a decorative red throw blanket.
The floor, like the rest of the penthouse, is all dark hardwood. There’s an opened door that leads into a sleek walk in closet and another doorless archway that serves as the entrance to a giant master bathroom.
I am amazed by the sheer size and opulence of the place. I can’t even imagine what my guestroom will look like. “Can you show me to my room?” I ask.
Asher spreads his arms out, as if to gesture that this is it.
I frown. “You’re giving me the Master?”
“We’re sharing the Master.”
I shake my head vigorously. “No. No way.”
Asher shrugs. “You could always take the couch.”
