The Billionaire's Offer

Chapter 16

By lunch, my patience wears thin, and I send him a message with a link to the pictures.

ME: Care to explain?

He answers a few seconds later.

ASHER: You should know better than to trust what you see online.

ME: Should I, now?

ASHER: Clare works for the international magazine I used to freelance for. She's based in New York too. We happened to be having dinner at the same restaurant, and she invited me for drinks with her colleagues. I thought they'd all go, but they declined, and I didn't want to be rude.

Reading his message brings a mix of frustration and uncertainty. My unease from earlier solidifies into something more potent and it brings me to a dark place I haven't been in a long time.

Deep down, I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the pictures and online comments have triggered a storm of emotion within me.

Knowing I need to focus on the pile of paperwork in front of me, I toss my phone back in my purse and return to work.

*****

Sprawled on my couch, wine in hand, and a decoration magazine forgotten, I resist the urge to go online.

The silence in the room is deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city outside. I take a sip of my wine, its bitter taste mirroring the bitterness that has seeped into my thoughts.

The images of Asher and that mysterious woman replay in my mind like a relentless loop, intertwining with the echoes of Zack's lies. The memories of his false assurances, the carefully constructed lies, and the unraveling of trust linger in my consciousness.

I hate I became this woman who is defined by the deceit of someone I trusted. But being a reluctant partner in a macabre waltz has left me questioning not just the intentions of others but also my own judgment.

The sound of the bell startles me, and I rush to answer it, my heart pounding with anticipation.

As I swing the door open, I'm met with Asher standing there with a soft, apologetic smile on his face.

"Can I come in?" he asks, and I nod.

The door closes with a soft click, and there's a moment of silence before he turns to me. Without uttering a single word, he reaches for me. His hands find their familiar place around my waist and he pulls me into an embrace.

"This feels good," he murmurs, his hold on me tightening.

Trying to organize my thoughts, I don't say anything as I lean into him.

Eventually, he pulls back a little, his eyes meeting mine. "Are you okay?"

"I thought we were trying to avoid the social media speculations." I tilt my head to the side to study him, noticing how tired he looks.

"Fuck! I hate all of this!" He takes a step back, rubbing his face. "Why are they so goddamn interested in our lives?"

"You and Clare looked really cozy in those pictures..." I cross my arms over my chest. "Maybe we should start with that."

"We worked together for years, Em. I didn't know-"

"Have you guys ever slept together?" I cut him off, and he has the decency to blush.

"Are we talking about people we've slept with now?"

"So, it's a yes." I swallow, hating the ball of insecurity settling in my gut.