What the hell just happened!?
Breathe, Kat. Just breathe.
The room still spinning, my head is a mess of confusion and I don’t have the energy to fight. When the door closes, I lean over and place the pillow over my head to block out the moonlight.
Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll suffocate.
I have no idea what time I went to bed. I wake up at an ungodly hour with an ungodly hangover and an ungodly temper. How could he have done this to me… again!
Okay, so the first time we met in the car wasn’t quite as compelling, but still. The night at the museum was intense, and he just disappeared. Now, last night, I thought he was going to make love to me. I thought he wanted me. I felt his need for me last night. I felt his lips on my skin, his palms on my body… I felt him!
When we came to the room, I thought this was it. But no, he made me look like a fool, again! I can picture him laughing at me. “I use women. They are my toys.” He probably ropes them all in, like the puppet master he is, with stories of his dead family and wanting one of his own. The big brooding billionaire can’t find anyone who loves him for him. Liar! I can’t believe I let him get to me. And with tequila!
Tequila.
My stomach dances and I can’t make it to the bathroom fast enough. The contents of my stomach expel from my body. My limbs go limp. My head pounds. I wish I could die here on the bathroom floor. This is the second time in two days I’ve found myself lying on porcelain. I seriously have to stop having such intimate moments with bathroom floors.
And then I hear the door open.
“Are you okay?” Asher rushes to me and wipes the hair away from my face.
What is he doing here?
“Get off me. I’m fine. Get out of here!” I shout and feel the need to get sick again. This time, Asher grabs my hair and holds it as I empty the rest of the contents of my stomach into the latrine. If I weren’t so sick, I’d be embarrassed.
No, scratch that. This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of my life.
When I’m done throwing up, Asher hands me a hand towel and I wipe my face. I look up at him, wishing it were all a bad dream.
“Come on, back in bed.” He leans down and carries me back to the bed. I get a striking sense of déjà vu. Did he carry me last night? Oh God, he carried me to bed. What’s with him and wanting to carry me everywhere? I am officially the most pathetic person on the planet.
“What are you doing here?” My head throbs and pulsates. Remember that throbbing I felt last night in my groin? Yeah, its relocated to my brain and it hurts. Or is it my heart? Could my heart have relocated to my brain? It’s quite possible.
“I brought you room service. I figured you’d be in bad shape so I ordered the Alexander Asher hangover kit.” His smirk needs to be smacked off his face.
He thinks this is funny. The bastard.
Asher sits on the bed next to me, while I lie in my shame.
“First order of business,” he says, “is Tylenol. Extra strength. Open up.” I open my mouth as he places two white tablets on my tongue. “Now wash it down with this.”
I shake my head. “A Bloody Mary? I think I’ve had enough to drink.”
“Nothing cures a hangover better than more alcohol.” He puts a straw to my mouth and I inhale. I feel so shitty. I’ll try anything to feel better.
“How are you not hung-over? You drank as much as I did,” I say, taking a bite of the toast he holds to my mouth. I take the toast from his hand and watch as he uncovers a dish of varied greasy breakfast foods.
“I’m twice your size. I should be able to handle more liquor than you. Though, I must admit, I didn’t expect you to get as out of control as you did.”
I drop my toast and feel the need to get sick again. For a second, I almost forgot about what almost happened.
“I want to apologize for getting… carried away. Last night, I…”
My eyes shut in mortification. “Save it, Asher. I was drunk and clearly had no idea what I was doing. There’s no way I would have danced like that if it weren’t for the tequila… and the sake… and the Sex on the Beach…” My stomach rolls, causing my eyes to open and face the source of my unease.
Asher’s face is pulled in, the corners of his eyes pushed down. His shoulders fall and he lets out a breath.
“That’s good news, then. Here I thought I’d have to let you down easy or something. I will now make a vow never to drink with you again.” He smiles and gives me his phony scout’s honor salute.
I know I said the words first, but his stung and hurt my heart. Both the one in my chest and in my head. My throat feels sore and my chest surges upward and I fight the urge to cry. I take a deep breath instead.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page. I promise it will never happen again.” I feel tears forming behind my eyes. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to get ready. Please leave.”
Slowly nodding in agreement, Asher places his hands on his thighs and rises from the bed. His hand on the knob, Asher opens the door and pauses for a second. His broad shoulders rise and fall a few times, his muscles expanding up and out, visible through the button-down shirt he’s wearing. His head sweeps to the right and he talks over his shoulder. “You are expected downstairs in the spa at two to get ready for the benefit tonight. They know not to let you pay for a thing. No arguing.”
Asher closes the door behind him, and I sob into my pillow.
I sleep the morning away. I call Gwen when I wake to check on Jackson and feel much better after hearing my little man squealing on the other end. I search my phone for any missed calls from Gabriel, but there are none. If it weren’t for Jackson, I’d swear off all men.
When I put the phone down, I notice Asher has left an invitation on the nightstand. It’s for tonight’s event. The Asher Foundation is hosting a soiree in the hotel event space. I glance over to the closet and spot the emerald-green dress peeking out. I guess that’s my uniform for tonight’s event.
I make my way to Bliss spa on time. When I check in, I’m surprised to see I have a full itinerary prepared. This must be Asher’s consolation prize for the unwanted. Whatever. I’ll take it.
For the first hour, I have a steam shower and my body scrubbed… literally. A brute of a woman rubs my body down with sea salt and washes all the toxins of Asher and tequila off my body. I’m thankful for her.
Next, I have a full body mask. Sitting in a pile of seaweed and mud, I let the good nutrients enter my body. I indulge in a full massage, a facial, a manicure, and a pedicure. I can’t believe how fast the last four hours have gone. I can get used to this.
Finally, I’m escorted to the salon, where my hair is washed and styled. Due to the heat, I ask for something simple and off my neck. The makeup girl is heavy on the eye makeup. She wanted my green eyes to “illuminate.” I let her have her way but ask her to go soft on everything else.
When it’s time to check out, I consider paying for the experience myself, out of principle. I know Asher said not to, but I have an issue with gifts, especially when they’re from him. However, upon looking at the extravagant total on the bill, I decide this is the one time Asher owes me and I charge it to the penthouse.
I make it to the room with just enough time to dress. I pull out the Lanvin, one-shouldered, crepe dress that falls above the knee. It is exquisite without being too formal. The stilettos go perfectly with the dress, but I’m not surprised, as a personal shopper selected them. I wish I had a bangle or cuff to go with the outfit, but I’m happy to have worn gold earrings yesterday.
Asher never said whether or not we’d meet in the lobby or in the room. Hell, he never said if we were to meet at all. I decide to head downstairs on my own.
The ride in the elevator has my stomach in knots. I still feel so foolish for the way I acted last night and angry over his reaction to it all. If I didn’t have to work with him, I’d vow never to see Alexander Asher again.