The Billionaire Game 3(11)

“Kate!” Asher looked startled and almost pleased, his dark hair falling boyishly into his eyes as he stood hastily, coming towards me with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. I had to squash down an answering twinge of excitement and joy at the sight of him.

You need to talk to him, I reminded myself. But you don’t need to enjoy it.

He pulled out a chair for me to sit in, and instead of taking his own seat back behind his desk, pulled out another to face it. “Can I get you something to eat? Did the receptionist offer you anything? I still have some of that vintage we had on the boat if you’d like a drink—”

“I’m not here to drink,” I said shortly.

“Of course, of course,” Asher said. What the hell was up with him? He was practically babbling, chattering away like a caffeinated monkey. He kept glancing away and then quickly glancing back at me, as if he couldn’t believe I was there. “You’re here to talk. We have so much to talk about. I’m glad you’re here, because I’ve been wanting to explain my side of things—”

“I’m really not interested in that,” I said coolly, cutting him off. I tried to make my voice sound unconcerned; it was the only defense I had against the emotions roiling inside me, a storm that begun the second I decided to meet with him and that had only grown in intensity from the second I looked once more into those sea-green eyes. I went on: “I’m here purely on a matter of business, and I’ll thank you to keep our conversation to those topics.”

Asher did an amazing impression of a kicked puppy. “I—of course. As you wish.”

I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from apologizing. It’s just an act, I reminded myself. He’s a player, he’s got enough acts for a dinner theatre. You can’t afford to get distracted by those sad eyes, or that forlorn look, or the way his hair tumbles down over his forehead…

Suddenly I was assaulted by the memory of his breath against my bare shoulders as he thrust into me, the feel of his warm skin on mine, the overwhelming pleasure pooling in my cunt as I clenched around his hard cock—

Business! I reminded myself sharply. Business! Not love, and not sex; not anything but cold, hard facts.

Still, I could feel a blush threatening to creep up from my breasts to my cheeks, and so I looked pointedly away, out the window, as I laid out the situation: “We made a mistake. Our current situation is—a distraction. I want to repay your stake in the company and make a clean break, but I can’t do that all at once. So I would like your help in putting together a repayment plan.”

My face composed by now, I looked back at Asher to gauge his reaction. He was looking like I’d always imagined the picture next to the dictionary entry for ‘gobsmacked’ might look. “Kate—I don’t need my stake back. It’s crazy to take money out like that when you’ve just launched. There’s no need—”

I felt a stab of resentment for his pity and his patronizing attitude. Of course I knew he didn’t ‘need’ his stake back; hadn’t I just walked into this Versailles of an office, hadn’t I just seen irrevocable proof that that kind of money was just chump change to him? And with the ten million he’d already made off his bet with Brody, there was no point to Asher hanging around as a partner waiting for my lingerie company to provide a return on his investment.

“It’s worth it to me,” I ground out. “I want this…distraction gone. Your help has been very…helpful. But I don’t want to feel like I owe you anything, and now that the company is going full-steam ahead, I don’t need a business partner anymore.”

Judging from his face, the subtext of I want you gone had come through loud and clear.

Oh, Asher. I never wanted to let you go in the first place.

“You’re willing to scuttle your business just to see the last of me?” There was something in his eyes that hurt to look at; I couldn’t meet them. His tone verged on desperate. “Kate, that is what that will mean. Buying back my stake, just to push me out—even if you were fully established, that would bankrupt your company.”

His words were making a terrible kind of sense. I scrubbed at my eyes, fatigue threatening. My head throbbed and black shadows danced at the edges of my vision. Why had I thought that this was a good plan? What was I doing here, begging for more heartache? When was the last time I had slept?

“Shit,” I said. “You’re right. You’re—goddammnit, I’m not thinking straight.”

Asher leaned closer to me. His voice was soft. “You look exhausted.”