Page 34 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
“I’m the one doing you a favor. I’m not taking the couch. I’ll take the bed.”
He shrugs again. “Go for it.”
I nod, satisfied. I leave him there, entering the closet instead to get ready for bed. It’s double the size of my dorm room and can easily be mistaken for a high end men’s clothing boutique. I shake my head in disbelief at the lavishness. After grabbing a soft cotton t-shirt, I take it with me to the bathroom, purposefully ignoring Asher, who brushes by me on his way to change out of his suit.
Like the rest of the place, the bathroom looks expensive with its white Carrera marble flooring and black modern cabinetry. There’s a toilet in its own little room. The standing shower, encased in grey marble, is separated from the room by a glass door. Inside of it is a bench and multiple waterfall style showerheads. Beside the shower is a white, jetted bathtub fit for five.
I go to the toilet. Afterwards, I wash my hands and pull out a drawer under the sink, finding an unopened toothbrush in it. I brush my teeth with it, rinse my face of mascara and grime, and decide to take a quick shower. After tossing my beloved LBD in the hamper. I stop at my underwear, realizing that I have no clean panties to wear. Mine was soiled by the whole dance floor incident. I remember how drenched they were and make a face.
Gross.
I won’t be able to sleep in those. I toss the underwear into the hamper, too. Then, I set my phone on the counter, after remembering to send a text to Aimee, letting her know I’m safe.
Lucy: At Asher’s place, safe and sound. Be safe tonight! See you soon.
And because I’m a coward, I turn off my phone before she can text me back. I know tomorrow I’ll be waking up to a million questions that I don’t know if I’m allowed to answer. I’ll have to talk to Asher about the parameters of this arrangement later. I still haven’t signed a nondisclosure agreement, too.
When I’m done with my shower, I have no other choice but to tug Asher’s soft t-shirt on over my bare body. I feel incredibly naked underneath. Wearing another man’s shirt is intimate enough, especially given the fact that I’m not wearing a bra nor panties. The knowledge that it’s Asher’s and he’s nearby, somewhere in the same penthouse, makes my cheeks flush.
When I reenter the bedroom after blow drying my hair, I’m frightened to find Asher in bed. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
I avert my eyes. “I thought we agreed that I’d get the bed.”
When I look back at him, he’s shrugging, but his eyes are focused on his shirt on my body.
“No one is stopping you,” he says.
“But…”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Who knows how long you’ll be here for? I’m not sleeping on a couch indefinitely in my own damn house.”
“This place is huge! It has to be, like, 10,000 square feet!”
“Twenty.”
My jaw drops. “Twenty thousand square feet and you can’t even make up a guest room for me?”
“It’s only a ten bedroom home,” the rich prick says.
He ticks each finger in a visual count.
One finger. “Master.”
Two. “Office.”
Three. “Library.”
Four. “Armory.”
Five. “Shooting range.”
Six. “Theater room.”
Seven. “Security room.”
He lifts all ten fingers now. “And the rest have been combined and renovated into a personal gym.”
I can’t believe this. The dude has a shooting range, armory, gym, theater, library, security room, and office in a New York City apartment? I know he has money, but this is just insane.
