Asher lets out a deep exhale, and when he speaks next, I can tell he’s talking through gritted teeth. ‘I told you when this all started that we didn’t have a connection. I can’t force—’
‘And I told you I didn’t give a damn,’ Georgios roars. He lets out a disgusted noise. ‘I give you chance after chance, time and time again, and every time you prove that my initial assessment about you was correct. You’re dead weight. Nothing but a liability with my last name unfortunately attached.’
My heart pounds painfully in my chest. I should go back to bed and pretend I’m not here and that I didn’t just hear what I just heard.
Asher doesn’t say a word, and Georgios doesn’t seem to care. He continues on with his tirade undeterred.
‘You’re weak. You always have been. You think anyone respects you? They laugh at you behind your back. They see you for what you are – a charity case I keep around out of pity.’
Enough.
I can’t stand listening to another second of this. Subtlety be damned, I slam the door open with zero finesse and storm out into the living room.
Asher is slumped in the armchair, hunching in on himself like he wishes he could just disappear while Georgios stands over him, face contorted with rage.
Both their heads snap up to look at me as I enter theroom. I wish I could say that Georgios’ face becomes a mask of embarrassment or even shock once he sees me, but that would be a lie.
Instead, his lips curl upwards into a satisfied, smug little smirk.
He takes in the rumpled shirt, my bare legs, the way I’m very clearly freshly bedded, and his eyes practically light up. He doesn’t even bother to hide it.
‘Asher,’ he purrs, ‘I see you’ve finally managed to get something right.’
Asher flicks his gaze over to me and offers a small, apologetic smile. It’s the kind of smile that sayskill me nowandI’m so sorry you had to see thissimultaneously.
Georgios clocks the glance, and that smug expression on his face only deepens. He sweeps his gaze over me again. ‘Good. This is good,’ he says, almost to himself. ‘I’ll call Malcolm and get the ball rolling. There’s no sense in waiting, now that the two of you have clearly,finally, found the right chemistry.’
I don’t even care that he’s talking about us like we’re not standing right here in front of him. I just know that I want him out of here and far, far away from Asher.
‘I think you should leave,’ I say coldly.
There’s a long, loaded silence. For one glorious moment, I think Georgios is about to actually bristle with embarrassment, maybe even mutter an apology for embarrassing his son like this. But, of course, that would require some basic human decency and I’m starting to realise that it’s a trait neither of our fathers possess.
He glances at Asher, at me, and then at his phone. ‘I’ll see myself out.’ His smile is deeply unsettling. ‘Don’t disappoint me.’ And then, just like that, he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him with all the finality of a guillotine.
It’s quiet in the suite. Too quiet. For a second, neither of us move. Asher won’t even meet my eye.
‘I’m sorry,’ he finally gets out, voice roughened at the edges. ‘You shouldn’t have had to hear that. I didn’t want to let him in but…’ He trails off and shrugs helplessly.
It’s laughable, really. The idea that I could possibly care about my own discomfort when he looks like he’s about to vanish into thin air.
I cross the space between us and wrap my arms all the way around his shoulders. At first he’s so tense it’s like hugging a statue, but then he exhales, drops his head against my shoulder and melts into me.
After last night, I would’ve said that we had reached the heights of intimacy between us. Asher’s head between my legs and his tongue rolling torturous circles around my clit certainly feels like the very definition of it. But this? My arms wrapped around him while he breathes into the crook of my neck feels like another level entirely.
He takes in a few more shuddery breaths and then pulls back slightly. I take this as my cue to step away and give him some space, but he snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap.
‘Thank you,’ he murmurs, dragging his thumb absentmindedly along my hip, tracing slow arcs through the fabricof his shirt. He tips his head back against the chair. He looks tired. And it’s not just theI haven’t slept enough because I spent last night getting to know every inch of Imani Davies’ bodykind of tired, but the deep, soul-level exhaustion of someone who’s spent his entire life trying to brace for the impact of having Georgios Vouvalis as his father.
My heart lurches like it doesn’t quite know if it’s supposed to ache or flutter in this moment, so it settles for doing both.
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ I say, and I mean it too. I’m not sure whether he’s thanking me for interrupting Georgios’ tirade before he became even more cruel, or for sending Georgios away, or even for just sitting in silence with him. All I know is that I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Anything to stop him from looking like he’s seconds away from crumbling.
‘He’s wrong, you know,’ I say. ‘Everything he said. Every last word.’
Asher huffs out a dry laugh. He doesn’t let go of me though. If anything, his fingers grip a little tighter, like I’m the only thing anchoring him in this moment. ‘You want to know why my father hates me so much? It’s not just that I’m a disappointment to him. If it were that simple, I don’t think he’d even care too much. It’s that I remind him of the biggest mistake he’s ever made.’
He inhales shakily, and I can’t help but wonder when he last said this aloud, to someone other than himself during his darkest moments. ‘My mum was twenty-five, broke, and sick as hell when she showed up on Georgios’ door and toldhim I existed. I’m not even sure he remembered her at first. They’d had a one-night stand seven years before and hadn’t said a word to each other since.’
