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"He needs you. My brother needs you, Bell."
Chapter 10
"Caleb only needs one person and that's himself," I say with complete conviction. "He doesn't need me. He doesn't need anyone."
"You're wrong." Asher points at me. "When the police handcuffed me yesterday, Caleb kept talking about calling you to tell you what happened."
"That was his guilty conscience talking," I counter. "He actually told me that I'm the only person who would understand why he had you arrested. How am I supposed to understand it? I honestly don't understand Caleb at all anymore."
"He was scared." He half-shrugs his shoulder. "I've never seen him that scared. He didn't know what to do, Bell. He pinned me on the ground."
"He could have really hurt you," I cringe as I say the words. I was witness to Caleb defending himself at a club in Hell's Kitchen one night almost two years ago. I was there with friends and once I heard that there was a scuffle on the street, I joined the crowd that was scurrying outside to get a glimpse. I was shocked to see Caleb pushing a stranger against the brick wall of the building while he pummeled the man's head with his fist. It's an image I can't shed. Caleb's never divulged the details of what drove him to the edge of losing control, but I know now that it's within him to take a life, whether he admits it or not.
"Caleb would never hurt me," he says grimly. "I think he thought I was on something."
It's not a preposterous conclusion to jump to. Both Caleb and Gabriel have held their breath the past few months hoping that Asher wouldn't fall back into his addiction. He's fought against it, and even though Asher has confided in me that Gabriel is proud of him, Caleb hasn't offered his reassurance that he believes his younger brother is on the right track. I know it pains Asher. He's told me as much.
"It doesn't matter what Caleb thinks." I pull on the hem of my dress, wishing I had taken the extra three minutes I needed to pick out another outfit before I raced to work. "You're not taking anything."
"I'm tempted," he admits quietly. "There's way too much temptation here."
I can't respond in any way other than honestly. My only vice is a glass of wine now and again and the occasional pair of expensive shoes. I've never felt drawn to try any illicit drugs. It's not because I've never been curious. It's simply because I'm too focused on my work and my goals. I don't do distractions.
"In New York, you mean?" I ask.
"This is one of the worst places for someone like me," he chuckles. "I go to meetings every day. I'm there sometimes two or three times a day but the draw is right there. It's always right there."
I nod. I may not understand the physical need to indulge, but I know what it feels like to crave something or someone. I've felt intense longings in my life but they've always been about men that were wrong for me. That's not comparable to what Asher feels, but it's the only experience I have to draw from.
"Can I help?" I ask even though I know that I can't. I've offered time and time again but although Asher and I may be close friends, our worlds beyond that don't collide.
"I think I'm going to take off for a few weeks." He gestures towards the large window in my office. "I've been thinking about going to see my mom."
Giana Foster had fled New York for the sanctity of her childhood home in Brussels after her divorce. Roman, her husband, had found not only opportunity and fortune in his business but a bevy of beautiful, young models willing to do almost anything to land the coveted spot of a place in the print campaign for the family's female fashion brand, Arilia. They'd named their first boutique after Giana's mother and now, twenty-five years later, they'd nurtured that brand along with the men's fashion line, Berdine, into a billion dollar business.
"Really?" I can't contain my surprise. "I think that's a great idea."
"Caleb fired me yesterday," He shakes his head in mock disbelief. "That means I'm going to have a lot of extra time on my hands. A trip to Brussels would be good."
I know he's likely right but I also know that Caleb wasn't serious when he fired him. "Caleb probably didn't mean it. I mean, I doubt that you're actually fired."
"I work there because I'm a Foster." He waves his hands in the air. "Don't get me wrong. I like the job. I'm good at it, but it's sucking the life out of me."
It's the first time I've heard him audibly express what I've been wondering for months. "You don't like your job?"
"Honestly." He tips his chin towards me. "I do it because my parents want to me to do it. I do it because it's their legacy. I don't even wear our clothes."
I laugh at the admission. "I don't either."
"I like that about you." He chuckles. "Remember when Caleb told you to go into the store on West 57th Street and pick anything you wanted? You never showed up."
I remember that day vividly. It was right before I started at Corteck. I was panicked because my work wardrobe consisted of the navy blue suit I'd worn to countless interviews, two white blouses, a pair of black slacks and a worn red pencil skirt. When I'd told Caleb I landed the job he first lectured me on the merits of working for him before he insisted I visit one of the Arilia stores to choose a new wardrobe as a graduation gift from the Fosters for me. I hadn't. I'd worn the few items I had to the office until I received my first paycheck and then I went to an outlet mall in New Jersey to buy dozens of items that were all discounted heavily. Caleb had been both livid, and mildly impressed, with my determination to get the most out of every dollar I earned.
"He's always tried to take care of you." Asher's lip slide into a smile. "You know he cares about your opinion more than anyone else's."
I've thought that at times. It's mainly been when Caleb's shown up at my office in the middle of the day with a scowl on his face and a desperate need to be reassured that he'd made the right decision about a new location or because he'd changed suppliers and was doubting himself. It's happened with women too. I was the first person he saw after Vena dumped him. He'd arrived at my apartment, completely unexpectedly with beer and pizza and a broken look in his eyes.
"If that were true, he wouldn't have had you arrested," I stop to raise my hand. I know Asher and I know that he's about to argue his brother's side of the story on his behalf. "It went too far. A year or two ago he never would have done that."
