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How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not known it was him? All the signs were there. The flowers started a couple months after I started working for him. Now that I look back, he’s always had his eyes on me, although I didn’t realize it at the time. Sterling claiming I would know who he was by next week. This extended weekend trip. Asher’s strange behavior lately.
Hurt, betrayal, and remorse slam into my chest, stealing every last bit of air I have in my lungs. Tears spring to my eyes, and I roughly wipe them away.
“How could you?” I whisper low, but I know Asher hears me when he winces. I ignore the pain I see flashing in his eyes. He has no right to feel pain. He was the one that tricked me, made me look like a desperate fool.
God! I’m such an idiot!
“Poppy—”
“No!” I yell, holding my hand up when he stands and takes a step toward me. “Don’t you fucking dare come near me!”
He stops in his tracks, but I can tell he’s barely restraining himself. His entire body is rigid and his hands are fisted at his sides. I clutch the sheet tighter to my chest and try to breathe through the suffocating pain in my chest.
“Beautiful, please let me—”
“No!” I say sharply. “You don’t ever get to call me that again, you son of a bitch! Ever!” My voice breaks, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
When I open them again, Asher’s closer to the bed. He holds out a hand, looking at me pleadingly. His eyes look desperate and the pain in them, so raw and bare, has my heart aching more. I’ve never seen him look so undone. He’s normally so strong and self-assured. The man in front of me is anything but. Still, I can’t let it get to me. He betrayed and played me.
I scramble back against the headboard, seeking a way to escape. I can’t let him touch me. He puts a knee to the bed, stopping my movements with his knee on the sheet. There’s no way I’m climbing from this bed naked. He’s seen enough of me already. Why in the hell do I have to sleep naked?
I close my eyes in mortification when I remember what I did with Sterling—Asher—at the window.
I tug, desperately trying to pull the sheet away, but it’s no use. His solid weight is there, and from the determined look in his eyes, he knows he’s trapped me and will take advantage of it.
“I never wanted to hurt you, Poppy,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “That was never my plan.”
I shake my head and start pulling on the blanket frantically. I don’t want to hear this. I just want to get away from him. There’s no excuse for what he did. I thought we had something special, something real, but it wasn’t. I don’t know what it was to him, but it definitely wasn’t real. You don’t hurt someone you care about.
“The first time I saw you, you were at Maverick Holdings, waiting for an interview in the waiting area,” he explains, ignoring my attempts to get the sheet free. He doesn’t move closer, but doesn’t let me go, either. I’m stuck, and sure enough, he uses it.
“You were in a tight black skirt, light purple blouse, and fuck-me black heels. From the very second I saw you, you had me utterly enthralled with your beauty. I couldn’t look away. It was
like I was seeing the other half of my soul. For the first time in my life, Poppy, my knees actually grew weak, and I felt flutters in my stomach. Me, a man, felt a thousand fucking butterflies in my stomach. Men don’t feel that kind of shit, Poppy.”
He smiles wryly at me, but I hold my glare. There’s no way I can let him get to me.
“I told Colt not to hire you and to send you to my office. There was no way I was letting you go once I found you. From that moment forward, you were mine. I just couldn’t claim you yet.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “I followed you that day back to your house and sat and watched you for over an hour.”
I gasp in shocked outrage, but he talks over it.
“You captivated my mind and took over my life. Every second of my day seemed to be consumed by you. You were all I thought about, dreamed about, and all I wanted. It drove me crazy the couple of days it took for you to call for an interview—completely fucking crazy. You were in here.” He taps the side of his head. “And in here.” He taps his chest, right over his heart. “I know that sounds mental, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
“Stop!” I yell, throwing my hands over my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. I draw my knees up closer to my chest.
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t listen to him talk like this. I want him to leave so I can lick my wounds in private; so I can cry out my grief and try to pick up the tattered pieces of my heart. I don’t know what to do with his words because they seem so sincere. His eyes plead with me to believe him, and I do. I’m just not sure I like what he’s saying. On one hand, it seems creepy that he’s been so obsessed with me. But on the other, it makes my treacherous heart beat faster with the need to go to him
When Asher touches my legs, my eyes snap open, and I jerk them back further. He stops for a moment, contemplating on whether or not to push, then makes his decision by quickly reaching forward again. Before I know what’s happening, I’m flat on my back with him hovering over me, the sheet thankfully still between us.
“What in the hell are you doing? Get off me!” I scream, pushing against his hard chest, digging my nails in. Satisfaction rushes through me when I see him wince. His jaw turns hard and he grabs my wrists and pins them over my head. I’m sure my glare is glacial.
“I know I hurt you, Beautiful,” he whispers. I open my mouth to yell at him again, but snap it shut when he leans down so close, only an inch separates our lips. “It fucking kills me knowing that. A huge weight sits right on my chest, knowing I did that to you. But you’re going to listen to what I have to say. I’m not finished with my story, and I’d rather get everything out in the open now so we can get back to the good parts.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “Nothing you have to say matters. You lied to me, deceived me, and tricked me in to your bed. NOW GET! THE FUCK! OFF ME!”
My blood boils, and I yank my wrists as hard as I can and grunt as I buck my hips. I do this for several minutes, and it does me not one damn bit of good. The only thing I manage to do is make my wrists sore and, if the hard ridge against my belly is anything to go by, arouse the asshole.
I’m panting and out of breath when I sag back against the bed.
