Knowing was one thing. Being honest and admitting it to myself is much harder. It leaves me feeling vulnerable and exposed. Now, seeing the kind of man Asher is, my fear of being rejected once more seems unfounded. I'm just hoping against hope that he might feel the same way.
For most of the day, I manage to avoid the apartment, even going as far as to shop for groceries when I only went two days ago. I just want to put off talking to Asher for as long as possible, but with the gala tonight, I officially run out of time.
When I get home, I find a note on the counter telling me he has gone to the office and that we will talk when he gets back, buying me yet another small reprieve.
Now that it's almost time to leave and Asher’s still not here, I'm a nervous wreck worrying that I’ve ruined everything with my declaration.
I stare at myself in the dress that I fell in love with, twirling a little so I can see the splash of colors peek up from beneath.
I’ve twisted my hair up into a neat bun, with a couple of loose tendrils to frame my face. I’m second-guessing the style now, noticing how many of my tattoos are on display. I’m not ashamed of them, and Asher certainly doesn’t seem to have any complaints, but I worry that his business associates might not be as liberal thinking as he is.
“You look beautiful,” a deep voice comments, making me jump out of my skin.
“Holy fuck,” I gasp with my hand on my chest when I look up and see Asher leaning against the door frame in a tuxedo looking like James Bond’s hotter brother.
“Sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump. And I'm sorry I'm late. I took the tux to the office to get ready, but I needed to make a pit stop somewhere first,” he says apologetically.
He walks around behind me and I watch him in the mirror as he lifts a necklace over my head and places it around my neck. I gasp when I see it—a black onyx stone with kaleidoscope hues looking like a rainbow inside it.
“Wow, Asher, it's beautiful,” I manage to get out as he fastens the clasp behind my neck before pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin of my shoulder blade.
“There's more,” he warns as I turn to face him just as he drops to one knee in front of me.
Taking my shaking hand in his, he slides a ring on my finger with a black stone in the center that matches the one at my neck.
“I know you think we did everything backward, but seeing my ring on your finger makes me think we did everything just right,” he says with that smile he reserves just for me.
“Asher,” I whisper, his name on my lips so filled with emotion it's impossible to miss.
“Marry me, Skittle. I know we did it once already, but this time I don’t want to miss a second of you becoming my bride,” he tells me softly, sliding a narrow wedding band on my finger behind the engagement ring. This one is platinum and studded all the way around with a variety of precious stones. It looks like a small rainbow wrapped around my finger and is a big step up from the gumball ring that started this all.
“Be mine—” he orders, but I cut him off.
“Yes,” I sob, throwing myself into his arms as he stands, forcing him to go back on one foot.
“I have so much to talk to you about, things that need to be said, but it will have to wait until after the gala or Graham might sneak in and murder me in my sleep,” he jokes, but I don’t miss the look of apprehension cross his face.
I chuckle and dry my eyes. Standing tall, I turn and check my face in the mirror. It's a little red from my tears but nothing too bad. Looking back up at him, I take a deep breath and smile wide.
“I'm ready when you are, handsome.” I feel the butterflies take flight when he lifts my hand and places a kiss over my rings before turning my hand over and kissing my inner wrist.
“Let's go before I decide to take my chances with Graham’s wrath,” he says gruffly, tugging me out into the sitting area.
“Do you have everything you need?” he asks.
Looking around, I grab my little black purse off the island countertop and my wrap from the stool beside it. I let him maneuver me out of the apartment toward the elevator in a daze, my impossibly high purple heels making a clicking sound across the marble corridor.
As soon as the elevator doors close behind us, he pushes me up against the wall and takes my lips in a searing kiss, leaving my already frazzled brain in need of a serious reboot. He pulls away as the door opens, looking as put together as always, whereas my befuddled brain is struggling just to remember how to do the walking and talking thing.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sloan. You look very snazzy tonight,” Sam greets us with a big smile from behind his desk.
I snap out of my Asher daze and smile at Sam in thanks. I’m surprised to see him tonight; he usually works the day shift. We have a new doorman named Thomas, who is much nicer than Russ was, who does the night shift.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight, Sam.” Not that I’m complaining, Sam is my favorite.
“Ah, I’m only covering Thomas for another hour as his daughter has a ballet recital he didn’t want to miss,” he answers.
“Oh, how cute.” I remember Thomas mentioning he had a nine-year-old dance-obsessed daughter. “We are going to a gala,” I tell him, making Asher look down at me with amusement as I chat away to his staff. “I'm a little nervous,” I admit.
Sam shakes his head in that fatherly fashion of his and comes around the desk to talk to us. “Hush now. Mr. Sloan here is going to have to beat people off you with a stick all evening,” he states, making me blush and Asher laugh.
I lean forward and press a kiss to Sam’s cheek, thanking him. This time, he’s the one who flushes.
“Thank you, Sam,” Asher says as Sam tips his imaginary hat at us.
“Have a good evening,” he calls as Asher leads me outside to the limo waiting for us.
Lifting the hem of my dress, I climb inside and slide across the seat, making space for Asher to climb in beside me.
“Hey, Davis,” I greet the man in question as he pulls away from the curb.
“Good evening, Mrs. Sloan, how was your day?” he asks conversationally.
I turn to look at Asher, who is watching me with such intensity my breath hitches.
“My day was awesome, thank you for asking,” I answer but my eyes are all for Asher. “The best day ever,” I whisper.
Twenty-Eight
Asher
We are cutting it close timewise, but seeing the look of happiness on Linda's face, I couldn’t care less.
I was surprised earlier—I never expected her to tell me she loved me, not yet, at least. But instead of turning me off, her words had the opposite effect on me. They made me feel territorial. Even when she chatted away with Sam and Davis, treating them like friends as opposed to employees, I had to fight to keep my reactions in check.
I want the world to know she belongs to me and it has fuck all to do with this deal with Peterson. That’s why I was late. Selecting rings that best reflected Skittle's personality was important, but knowing everyone would see those rings on her fingers and realize she was mine? Yeah, that made me feel like the luckiest bastard on the planet.
This woman has quickly become my everything and she doesn’t even know it. What I feel for her is something I've never experienced before, something I thought I was incapable of, and yet here we are.