That’s because it’s a rare combination, one of the rarest hair and eye color combinations actually. Just as I thought, he just wants to add me to his collection because I’m an unusual find, the same way a boy wants to have a rare Pokémon card in his deck so he can brag about being the only one who has it among his friends.
I’m insulted.
“Also, I was impressed with that report you gave on uncertainty and elasticity of demand,” he adds.
Now, I wasn’t expecting that. I didn’t even know he was listening when I gave that report.
“I think your mind would be an asset to any large company.”
My eyes narrow. “Are you trying to recruit me?”
“I might.”
“But you want me to meet with people from other companies?”
“What can I say? I’m not afraid of competition.”
No, he’s not. In fact, I think it thrills him. I guess that’s one thing we have in common.
“For now, I’m just asking for one night,” Asher says.
And I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but right now, I’m leaning towards saying yes. I don’t like Asher. I still feel insulted by what he said earlier and I definitely don’t trust him. But I can’t deny that this is a good opportunity for me. Too good.
If you want to succeed in the corporate world, you have to look ahead. You also have to get along with people you don’t necessarily like. Enduring Asher’s company may be a small price to pay for an investment in my future.
“Fine,” I give in. “But I’m not counting this as a date.”
“I am.”
Look at him with that cocky, triumphant grin like he just won the lottery. But this will be my win.
I put up a finger. “On one condition.”
“What?”
“We keep this a secret.”
I don’t want him bragging about our date like some kind of trophy.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I never kiss and tell.”
Kiss? My gaze falls on Asher’s lips and my cheeks grow warm again.
I draw a breath. “There will be no kissing.”
“We’ll see.”
He thinks he can change my mind about that? Fine. I’ll let him hope.
“So I’ll pick you up in front of the café tomorrow at six-thirty? The party’s at seven.”
I nod. “Sure.”
~
I shouldn’t have said yes.
I wrestle with my second thoughts as I fight a losing battle with my stubborn curls in front of the mirror. They’ve always been stubborn, but I’ve never minded as much as I do now.
I tug at them with my brush and grit my teeth. “Come on!”
I tell myself I’m doing all this—putting my hair up, wearing my mother’s necklace, my best lipstick, my best dress and my least comfortable shoes—because I want to impress the corporate bigshots I’ll be shaking hands with. But in truth, I’m doing it for Asher.
It’s stupid. I know. This isn’t a date. I told Asher so. And I didn’t even want to go out with him in the first place. I still haven’t changed my mind about him being a jerk. Yet here I am wanting to look pretty for tonight.
No. Not just pretty. Perfect.
I didn’t even feel this way for my prom or my first date, which was with a guy named Chuck who I didn’t even like all that much.
Oh well. He is Asher Hawthorne, after all. I don’t want to be by his side looking like… well, like I shouldn’t be by his side. I don’t want to embarrass him. I want him to be proud of me.
Yes, he’s a playboy. Yes, he’s heir to billions. But for just one night, I can think of him as my Mr. Darcy. And I’ll be Elizabeth. And maybe, just maybe, we can have a perfect time together at this ball. Party, I mean.
If only I can get my hair into a Victorian-style updo.
I make a few more attempts at it, then throw my brush into the sink and let out a sigh.
“To hell with it.”
And if Asher doesn’t like how I look, he can go there too.
~
“You look stunning,” Asher tells me when the two of us are alone in the gazebo. “I know I told you that earlier, but I just felt like saying it again.”
For a moment, I consider telling him that he looks good, too, which he does in his maroon shirt, dark fitted jeans and tan sports blazer. I even think he smells good, the kind of good that makes me want to wrap my arms around him from behind so I can breathe in more of the scent from his nape. Not that I’d ever tell him that.
“Thank you,” I say instead while trying not to blush. Then I take another sip of champagne.
Why did I allow Asher to bring me here in the middle of the gardens where there’s no one else around? Yes, it’s a nice reprieve because it’s quiet here. But it’s too quiet. And a little dark. Also, kind of romantic with the flowers that are still in bloom swaying in the breeze and the fallen leaves scattered on the lawn looking like specks of gold under the moonlight.
Not a good idea. I must be drunk after having two glasses of champagne. Either that or my mental capacity must have diminished from trying to impress all those pretentious, pompous asses. I can’t believe I’m going to have to kiss a few over the next few years.
“I know you said the guest list at this party would be high-profile, but I didn’t think it would be that high-profile,” I tell Asher.
He gives me a puzzled look. “You mean I didn’t tell you that this was a birthday party Lloyd Finley was throwing for his father, Marcus Finley, and that he’d invited all of his former peers and protégés.”
“You know you didn’t.”
“And yet you still handled them all excellently,” Asher tells me with another smile that makes my knees weak. “I was right to bring you along.”
I take another sip of champagne as I fight off another blush. Why is he being so nice all of a sudden?
No. Not all of a sudden. He’s been perfectly nice to me all evening. Nicer than Mr. Darcy. Maybe that’s why I had no objections to following him here. Maybe I’m actually hoping he’ll kiss me next. He’s been so nice to me that I wouldn’t mind.
“By the way,” Asher says. “You’re right.”
My eyebrows furrow. “About what?”
“A mother’s love is not something I’m overly familiar with. She died when I was ten. And before that, she was sick for a long time. I barely saw her.”
Shit. I suddenly feel like punching myself in the gut.
“But I’d like to think that hasn’t made me a monster.”
I set down my glass. “Of course it hasn’t.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Really? But you said—”
“I’m so sorry about what I said,” I tell Asher with all the sincerity I can muster. “Especially what I said about your mother. That was a mean and careless remark and I take it back. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and takes my hand in his. “I forgive you.”
I let out a breath of relief.
“At least, I will if you tell me one thing,” he says.
“What?”
“You said I affirmed your belief that there were no decent men in the world. Who put that belief in your head? Who broke your heart? First boyfriend?”