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“But fuck, you are... exquisite...”
“Lord Milton—”
“Just call me Asher, or Daddy, if you like.”
“Lord Milton! My name is Blakely Cohen. I work for your father, Andrew Symmonds. Kindly get off me. You are wetting my clothes.”
With that, he released her and straightened to his full phenomenal height sans his towel, and Blakely found herself staring at what she gathered would be considered a significant piece of male anatomy.
The desperate need to turn around and blush a thousand shades of red was not a luxury she could award herself because of who she was, as was plainly stated by her ex-boyfriend.
She took a deep sigh, climbed off the bed, closed the small distance between them, bent and retrieved his towel, then proceeded to wrap it around his waist again, carefully so she didn’t touch his penis in any way. She had to maintain the upper hand. Show a strong front on all accounts.
“I’m here to extend a personal invitation to a birthday party for your father’s wife, Tanya. She’s turning thirty-five, as I’m sure you know. If you’d like to get dressed, I have a car waiting, and I will be escorting…” Wrong choice of word.
“I will be accompanying you to New York. You don’t have to worry about packing a bag. I’ve already made arrangements for a wardrobe to be sent to Brairbrook House, which is where you and your brothers will be staying for the duration of your stay in New York.”
“And he sentyou?” Asher chuckled as he turned around and walked toward his closet. She spun around when he dropped his towel again and slipped into a pair of jeans that had seen better days by far.
“I’m more formidable than I look, Lord Milton. If you don’t mind hurrying up, Anthony is waiting for us.”
He came around to face her while putting on a T-shirt. She could now smell the scent of his cologne, and it tickled her nose. Staring her straight in the eye, he seemed to be sizing her up.
Asher Milton, honestly too good-looking for his own good, then perused her entire body from head to foot. She resisted the urge to breathe in case it sounded like a pant, which, given the circumstances, was no reason for her to be panting at all.
She also wondered if his air-conditioning system was working since it had become uncomfortably hot. She brushed aside her own weird physiological reactions and concentrated on the problem at hand: Asher Milton.
He looked as if he were contemplating giving her a hard time. She wished he wouldn’t. She would hate to have to start wearing him down two minutes into meeting him. He did not understand her level of commitment to getting the job done.
He folded his arms across his excessively muscular chest and used one hand to stroke the jaw on his perfectly symmetrical face, then nodded.
“All right.”
Even she seemed a little taken aback.
“Thank you. Your cooperation is appreciated.”
“Oh, I just want to see how you do with getting my brothers to come to New York with you.”
“I’m sure they will be as inclined as you are, Lord Milton,” she said, deadly serious, while also manifesting that was exactly what she wanted to happen. His laugh seemed to make her nerves act strangely, but she soon got herself in order.
She ignored him for the most part in the car en route as they were to his other adopted brother, Henry Bailey, the Marquis of Burshire. But Asher seemed content to just stare at her while she worked.
“Have you never seen a fully clothed woman before, Lord Milton?”
“Not as beautiful as you.”
“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”
“Yes, but I’ve never meant it before.”
“And that makes you entirely trustworthy.” She ended the conversation by excusing herself to take a call; she also didn’t want to hear him chuckle again.
She didn’t expect Anthony to drive to the middle of nowhere for her to meet Henry Bailey. All she could see was a massive building and then open land. Well, he knew the whereabouts of the Marquises better than she did, so she trusted him.
“Stay,” she ordered Asher, holding out her hand to him before she climbed out of the car.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sounding as amused as ever.
