Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(115)

“I—” he said, still hesitating. “I know you know I’m married, and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea about what?” I said. And, what an idiotic thing to say? Obviously I knew what he meant! I was fooling around with a married man in a private alcove in a luxury restaurant, then asking him what he meant when he said I shouldn’t get the wrong idea? He probably thought I was stupid.

“You do… things… to me,” he said.

“Hm?”

“I expected to come here and talk business with you. A friendly meeting, though. Not strictly business, mind you, but… the question I asked you about yesterday? Lunch, too, of course, but the main reason we’re here is because of what I asked you before, about the favor for my wife and I. I’ve discussed it briefly with her and she’s not completely opposed to the idea, and I talked with one of my financial advisers about the technicalities. He said to see if you would do it for no cost, since he assumes you might, considering the nature of my proposal and who I am. I would never do that, though. I’ll compensate you quite generously if you agree, but I want you to know there’s no pressure if you disagree, too.”

“Asher?” I said. “Let’s just eat first, alright?”

“I’m not trying to be so formal,” he said. And with a laugh, he added, “Some romantic part of me wanted to say that you can give me your decision once we’re done. Meaning, you choose when we finish by stating your decision, and we can stay and have a nice time before that, doing whatever you like.”

“Romantic?” I asked, teasing. “Like this lover’s special? You are married, aren’t you?”

He grinned and shook his head in grief. “Romantic as in romanticized. And the lover’s special is just a sushi platter for two. It’s not my fault they named it that.”

“Yeah, I know.” I felt silly, but I grinned back at him. What was I, some silly schoolgirl with a crush? This was beyond me, he was beyond me, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. But… “Is everything alright with your wife?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

Asher frowned, but only for a moment. “She’s away,” he said, carefully. “She prefers it. The city is too stuffy for her sometimes. She needs to go to different places to feel more comfortable. That’s how she’s always been.”

“Do you miss her?”

He smiled. “You know? Sometimes I do, yes. But for better or for worse, right? I want her to be happy, too.”

But she’s leaving you alone! That’s what I wanted to say. This handsome, wonderful man, who went into amazing fits of passion like any woman might dream of, who had the foresight to request us this closed off room so I might feel more comfortable in the unknown atmosphere of a ritzy establishment, and who was quick to offer a massage when my foot ached. And, yes, he was a bit commanding at times, perhaps far too much, but my God I wanted him to be so much more commanding, too.

For better or for worse? He wanted to make her happy? There was nothing in his expression or his tone that said this, but I felt like he wasn’t—but should be—happy. And maybe that wasn’t her fault. I wasn’t anyone who should be dissecting their marriage and trying to figure out the flaws in it, since I had no clue about their relationship, but…

I couldn’t do this. I was setting myself up for something horrible and wrong and I wouldn’t allow myself to concoct these dreams and emotions of helping this man overcome his loneliness. For all I knew, he liked it that way. Maybe he had more time to himself. He was reclusive, right? That’s what every article said about him, and even if they were similar to tabloids, entertainment gossip, why would anyone lie about that?

He liked being alone, and his wife liked to travel, so perhaps they were a match made in heaven. I had no right to judge their relationship, or them.

“Would you pour me some sake?” Asher asked, snapping me back to reality.

I stared at him. “Can’t you pour it yourself?”

He grinned. “I could, but it’s Japanese custom for two people eating to pour each other’s drinks. I’ll pour yours if you’ll pour mine?”

“Is that like ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?’” I asked in a fit of sassiness.

“Similar,” he said with a laugh, “but not quite.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. I don’t know why. It was a silly, girlish thing to do, but he stuck his tongue out right back at me. I smiled, then reached for the ceramic pitcher and poured him a cup of the heated drink. The warmth of it let up a slip of steam. He returned the favor, leaving me with a cup of warm sake to drink.