Page 75 of Asher Black (The Five Syndicates)
I can’t tell whose audio it’s coming from, but I hear someone shout, “Terrorist attack!”
It only makes the chaos worse.
But then I see it, a little gap in the crowd. There’s a body on the ground, and I’m stunned to realize that it’s Caroline’s. She’s lying there on the ground, her arms clutching her stomach over her bulletproof dress.
The evidence is there, right before my eyes, yet I can hardly believe it.
I’m the target.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mistakes are always
forgivable, if one has
the courage to admit
them.
Bruce Lee
It turns out living with Asher is easier than I previously thought it would be. After we learned that I’m the target, we both agreed that a lockdown is the safest route.
Unfortunately, there have also been whisperings of the vote being moved up, so Asher had to act. He ended up starting a new line of hotels at Black Enterprises. Because he’s the resident expert in real estate law and has the most connections, this is the best move. It’s making him invaluable to the company, so they had to push the vote back until the beginning of the next business quarter.
But scouting locations for new hotels also means he has been traveling a lot lately, so he’s rarely home. But when he is here, he’s easier to be around than I initially expected. We have a nice roommate thing going on here, where we leave each other alone until bedtime comes.
Since I let him sleep on the bed after my nightmare, he hasn’t moved back to the floor. And I’m not about to ask him to. After doing it a lot, sleeping with him isn’t awkward anymore. I actually like it. I don’t dwell on it, but I enjoy his touch at night and even miss it when he’s gone.
Sometimes, I’ll cook when he’s in town, and we’ll eat together. But he mostly works when he’s in New York, so our contact is at a minimal, typically limited to nights in the bedroom, where he’ll cuddle me to stop my fidgeting. At times, I toss and turn just so he’ll touch me. I’m playing a dangerous game, but I crave his touch, and with all the time we spend apart, I’ll take what I can get.
In fact, I’m starting to wonder how our lack of time spent together is looking to the public and the people we’re supposed to be selling this relationship to. We’ve only been photographed together three times, and we weren’t even technically in one of the photographs.
The first time was when we left Carmen’s Cantina together. It’s the only normal picture of us. We’re holding hands, and I’m smiling up at him with a goofy smile on my face. Last week, I caught a glimpse of Asher’s phone and saw it as the wallpaper for the home and lock screen.
He must hate me. I swear. That’s the only reason he’d set a picture of me looking like a stupid sap as his background. I have to give him credit, though. He’s really selling this whole fiancé thing.
The second time we were photographed together was a totally un-embarrassing picture of me sitting in Asher’s lap after the first shooting. In it, there are ugly tears streaming down my face, and Asher looks like he’s about to commit first, second, third, fourth and fifth degree murder.
Fifth degree murder is when you make eye contact with Asher while he has an angry glare on his face, and you’re stunned to death by his hotness. It’s like getting petrified when making eye contact with the Basilisk in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, only Asher is gorgeous and came from a vagina rather than a chicken egg hatched under a toad. (Yes, we all know what you did, Herpo the Foul.)
The third picture is of Caroline aka Fake Lucy on the ground, a hand over her stomach, while Damien aka Fake Asher holds her hand while they wait for an ambulance to come. Someone is stepping on Fake Me’s hair, and Fake Asher looks like he’s having a blast. It’s an odd picture, and I hope no one ever asks us to explain it.
But as far as the media and everyone else is concerned, Caroline/I survived because she/I was wearing a bulletproof vest under my dress—not bulletproof clothes. I still don’t know why Asher is so hush hush about the bulletproof clothes.
The craziest part is that picture has been spread all over social media, and people still think it’s us. When I found out that we’d gone viral, I just about had a heart attack, wondering if Steve has seen it. But that old goat would have to learn how to use the internet first, and that’ll never happen…
Right?
I’m in the living room with Eduardo, my so called tutor of all things WASP related, when Asher descends the staircase with a suitcase in one hand and a book in the other. I tilt my head a little to read the title.
Sleeping Beauty in the 21st Century: A Modern Retelling.
I snort, causing him to narrow his eyes at me. I back up slowly when he approaches me. The books I’m balancing on my head wobble dangerously.
Eduardo is teaching me to walk properly in heels, which apparently involves using my cranium as his personal bookshelf. Two of the books are thesauruses, which is ironic, considering the only words Eduardo seems to know these days are “Damn it, Lucy!” and “Straighten your spine!”
“Damn it, Lucy!” Eduardo chastises me. “Straighten your spine!”
