Chapter 3 Back to my old life.

Asher's POV

“Mr. Sterling, you’ve got that investor meeting in twenty minutes,” Paul, my assistant, reminded me as I glanced through the figures on my desk.

“I know,” I said, not looking up. “Has Bennett confirmed if he’s bringing his legal team?”

“Yes, sir. They informed us yesterday that they were coming along with him today. And they want equity adjusted to forty percent.”

I dropped the pen. “How can he demand forty percent for ten percent of the work? They’re out of their minds. That's not happening.”

“They’re still coming,” he said.

“Then let them hear it from me.”

I got up, buttoned my jacket, and walked toward the conference room. My phone buzzed in my pocket but I ignored it. My sister wouldn’t stop hounding me about the family dinner my family was hosting and I had promised I would be present.

The dinner was in about two weeks so why was she disturbing me. But I knew better than anyone that if she didn't do these I would not attend. I never did especially after Melina's death. I wasn't a big fan of gatherings but Melina had always been one to drag me along. She always enjoyed socializing.

I walked into the glass-walled room where my team was already seated, and across from them, Peter Bennett, the investor, had that smug grin he always wore. The same one that made me want to walk out each time we meet.

“Asher,” he said, rising for a handshake I didn’t want to give. “Glad you could make time.”

“I always make time for bad deals,” I replied and took my seat.

He chuckled. “No need to be hostile. This is business.”

“Then don’t ask for something that sounds like a robbery.”

My legal advisor gave me a warning look, but I ignored him. I wasn’t in the mood to sugarcoat anything. I had already given them a fair offer. Bennett just wanted more control, and I wasn’t about to hand it over.

The meeting dragged longer than it should have. Peter Bennett kept talking in circles, arguing over the percentage of shares he wanted to own in the proposed merger which frustrated me. I wanted to shut him but kept quiet because he was the best choice among the investors I have seen around.

By the time we wrapped, my jaw was tight. I walked out of the boardroom, ignoring Paul who tried to brief me on my next call. I waved him off. My head was not in it anymore.

I didn’t speak to anyone. I just walked toward the elevator, loosening my tie. When I got into the car, Jacob, my driver nodded at me in the rearview mirror.

“Home, sir?” he asked.

“No. Just drive,” I muttered, sliding into the backseat. “I’ll let you know.”

The door shut behind me and I sank into the seat, tugging at the top button of my shirt. I stared out of the tinted window as the city blurred past.

I pulled out my phone and looked at the date. It had been two years already since Melina died. Her name still sat at the top of my emergency contact list. I thought I would’ve felt something by now but all I can do is still the void she left.

I hadn’t touched another woman since then. I had tried to move on once last year. It was a blind date, Bruce, a business associate insisted on. I left halfway through the dinner. Paid the bill and walked out. I can't even remember the woman’s name.

A lot of women had flirted with me. I had to get the security to throw one out the other day. I don't know how but she sneaked into my office when I wasn't there. Her pussy was shiny, glittering at me the moment I opened the door. She laid on the sofa in my office almost naked.

I genuinely wonder what motivated these women to throw themselves at men shamelessly. Oh, I forgot. Shame is now a luxury.

None of the ladies I have met felt like Melina. She was everything I never asked for but needed. She made me better. She was there before I made my first million, before the company went global, before the title of billionaire became something I was addressed with.

When she got sick, I didn’t believe it at first. I kept thinking we’d buy more time. I flew in several doctors to get her help. She still died. Just like that.

I never recovered. Not really.

Everyone at the company stopped mentioning her after the first year. Even my closest staff avoided saying her name. Maybe they thought I’d fall apart. Or maybe they figured I already had.

I looked at my reflection in the glass and didn’t recognize the man looking back.

Jacob cleared his throat. “Sir?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“Not in the mood for small talk,” I said, my voice low. “Keep driving.”

“Yes, sir

We passed a string of restaurants, then the downtown strip. Bright lights flashed against the car window. Music leaked into the streets from plain doorways.

People who had nowhere to be tomorrow.

I should’ve told Jacob to take me home but I didn't want to go back to the silent space that reminded me so much about my late wife with a pounding head.

Instead, I found myself saying, “Pull over.”

He parked without a word.

I stepped out before I could change my mind. The air outside was cooler than expected. I slipped my hands into my pockets and walked toward the place where I could drown my pain.

The sign outside read: CRIMSON ROOM. A perfect name for temptation’s hideout.

I hadn’t been in one in over a decade. Not since before Melina. That life had ended with her.

Inside, the lights were low and the music loud. Neon flickered across moving bodies, dollar bills, and tired men pretending they weren’t alone.

I found the bar and ordered a whiskey. No ice. I just wanted to feel the burn.

I took a seat by the bar top. Needing quiet inside my own head even if the place around me was loud. Suddenly, the barstool beside me scraped across the floor. I turned slightly to see who drew it out.

My breath hitched in my throat. I was staring wide eyed at the lady who looked like a mini version of Melina. She wore a dress that left very little to imagination. Her blonde hair was flowy cascading down her, almost tempting me to feel the strands. My first glance at her made my cock throb in my pants.

Something I hadn't felt voluntarily since Melina died.

She looked very innocent to be in a place like this. There was mascara smudged under red, swollen eyes. Probably from crying. Her vibe screamed recklessness.

“Again,” she drawled, slamming her empty martini glass on the bar top.

“Did you come with someone?” the bartender asked, his eyes shamelessly dropping to her exposed tits.

Her behavior was funny to me but I could relate to her pain at the same time. She deserves to lighten up her mind.

She scoffed at the bartender. “Do I look like I need a chaperone?”

Before he could say another word, she turned to me, grabbed my half-finished whiskey without asking, and knocked it back.

Feisty? I loved her already.

Layla's POV

I scoffed. “Do I look like I need a chaperone?”

Who the hell was he to question my decision?

Before he could say another word, I turned to the man beside me, grabbed his half-finished whiskey without asking, and knocked it back. It burned more than the sugary crap I’d been drinking, still I welcomed the fire. Anything to smother the ache in my chest.

The man beside me just stared. But he didn’t say a word.

I tried to take another gulp, though the glass was already empty. I tilted it again, squinting like the drink might magically refill itself.

“What the hell is wrong with this cup?” I slurred. “Why’s the drink not coming out?”

The man gently took the glass from my hand. His touch sent an electric jolt up my spine.

“Hold on,” he said, his voice smooth and low. Then he turned to the bartender. “One shot of whiskey. For her.”

The bartender looked like he wanted to protest, however one scowl from the man shut him up. He poured the drink.

The bartender gave me a look, one eyebrow arched like he wasn’t sure what to do with me. I knew he’d seen worse in this place.

I looked like I didn’t belong there but who cares?

The drink was placed in front of me. I downed it without hesitation, the fire searing through me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, wiping my lips with the back of my hand. My lipstick smeared across the back of my hand even so I didn’t give a shit.

The loud music throbbed through my chest as I sat at the counter and kept an open tab for my drink, my eyes squinting against the neon lights and swirling haze.

I didn’t even remember the name of the place—just that it was the closest pub still open and loud enough to drown my thoughts.

I'd stopped at my apartment first, ripping off my work clothes and pulling on the skimpiest dress I owned. It clung to every inch of me, barely covering anything. It was the kind of dress that made men turn their heads to look at you except I didn’t care. I was done with the whole ‘modest in relationship’ thing.

The man beside me studied my face, his eyes fleeting to my tits occasionally. “Rough night?”

I gave a short, humorless laugh. “You could say that.”

I turned fully toward him. My eyes were glassy. “You know what’s funny?” I slurred. “I lost everything today. My job, my relationship, my sense of fucking dignity. And now… I’m here. In a goddamn public pub. Trying to forget.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Is it working?”

“Not yet,” I muttered bitterly.

He didn’t push further. Instead, he kept refilling my glass. “Then keep drinking,” he said calmly. “However pace yourself.”

I stared at him. He looked like someone I'd seen before. He had a face I would’ve remembered in another life. Late thirties? Maybe early forties. He was calm, composed, and too damn attractive for this place. His blue eyes lingered on my face a little too long.

His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of a tattoo on his chiseled abs. My eyes wandered on his body. He had the kind of confidence you couldn’t fake.

God, I will kill to have a man with this body.

His hand brushed my arm as he leaned in a little closer. His voice was low and unreadable. “You want to get out of here?”

I blinked at him, my vision swimming slightly from the whiskey.

My gaze drifted past him to the stage where two women danced around a pole, teasing some rich guy in a suit who looked half-drunk and fully obsessed.

The room spun a little. So did my heart.

“Yes,” I said suddenly, pushing off the stool, swaying as I stood.

“You sure you’re steady enough to walk?” he asked, grabbing my arm gently.

“Nope,” I grinned, my voice slurring. “Yet I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“I could carry you.”

“And ruin the full drunk-girl experience?” I laughed, twirling a finger. “I want to feel the room spin.”

He chuckled softly. I didn’t care where we were going. I just wanted to feel something else different from the pain I've felt today.

I walked ahead of him staggering a little as I jumbled my way among the crowd. I turned around suddenly, almost hitting my head on his chest.

“Shit! I forgot my purse,” I muttered, turning back.

He was already two steps ahead of me, heading back to the bar. While I waited, some creep leaned in close. “You lost, baby?”

I took a quick glance at his overall look. He looked rough and drunk.

“Back off.” I kicked off a heel and pointed it at him like a knife.

He grumbled something and disappeared.

How could he mistake me for a cheap fuck? I wasn't dressed that badly. I pushed myself to a random seat, feeling the room swaying a little.

I don't know what was keeping that ‘hot’ man from retrieving my purse. Tying my heels strap, I heard the man's voice.

“Here. I’ve been looking for you.” He said, stretching my purse to me. I collected it from him and stood up from the chair.

As we walked, he kept glancing at me. There was something familiar in his eyes, like he was trying to place me. Maybe I reminded him of someone. Or maybe I just looked like a mess.

I could tell he liked what he saw, though. His gaze lingered on my face then dropped to my lips and exposed tits.

My hair was messy. My makeup was probably a disaster. Yet he was staring at me like I was the only thing worth looking at.

The downtown lights blurred in the distance as the cool night air bit at my skin immediately I stepped outside the pub. My foot caught the edge of a loose stone making me stumble slightly.

He caught me around the waist before I could fall, his hand firm and warm through the fabric of my thin dress.

The heat of his touch sent something sharp up my spine. The scent of sandalwood and citrus clung to his skin. It made my head swim in a different way.

My mind should’ve been screaming what are you doing?, but it wasn’t. Instead, Ryan and Brielle's fucking scene flashed in my mind.

Fucking hell! I should feel something other than this.

I looked up at him.

“You’re very hand…some, you know,” I said with a sloppy grin. I reached up, locked my arms around his neck, and yanked him down. My lips crushed against his like I needed him to erase Ryan’s name from my memory.

Chapter 5

Asher's POV

The effect of her kiss was immediate. My cock throbbed, hard and aching, as she pressed into me. My rough stubble grazed her chin as I kissed her back with urgency. My hand found her soft ass, grabbing it firmly, dragging her tighter against my body.

Christ, I'd been watching this ass sway effortlessly as she walked ahead of me.

She tasted like alcohol and something warm—something sweet I couldn’t place. And fuck, she was an incredible kisser. The kind who knew how to leave you needing more with every flick of their tongue.

Suddenly, she pulled away from me, breathless and shaky. Her chest rose and fell in short, broken gasps. Around us, the air outside the building stank of alcohol, sweat, and the faint musk of bodies grinding in dark corners. Cars rocked in the shadows. Moans drifted from cracked windows.

“Where’s your car?” she asked, her voice raspy and thick with need.

I pointed toward a sleek black sedan parked nearby.

Without another word, she walked ahead of me, wobbling as she moved towards the car. I caught up in two strides, opened the door, and she slid in like she belonged there. I followed, shutting the door behind me, murmuring a quiet instruction to Jacob before the engine hummed to life.

The moment the door sealed, the tinted divider was rolled up.

The air between us changed. She was trembling beside me. I saw the way her fingers brushed her thighs, like she didn’t know what to do with them. Her knees pressed together, and I could feel the tension radiating off her skin. Her body was wound up and burning. I could feel it.

Then she tugged at my shirt.

“Can you kiss me again?” she whispered. “No….please, sir, I want you to kiss me again, please.”

What the hell? Was she really a version of Melina?

The way she said “sir” sounded made my stomach twist. I stared at her, my throat tightening. I hadn’t heard that word in this needy form in two years.

She tugged at me again, her hot breath brushed against my skin, sending an unexpected jolt down my spine. Her eyes were pleading furiously.

“Is something wrong with me?" she asked, lips parted, eyes wide and unsure. "Do I taste wrong? Smell wrong?"

“No, Layla,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. My voice came out low and rough. “That's not it.”

I was trying my best to restrain myself but this girl was unraveling me.

Her hazel eyes were glassy and half lidded as she spoke.

“Then why does it feel like no one wants me for anything real? I am just twenty two….” Her voice cracked. “And my life hasn't been happy….. I've never enjoyed the comfort of any man. That bastard was my first boyfriend but he used me.”

She guided my fingers to her mouth and bit down softly, her eyes never leaving mine. Then, slowly, her lips parted, and she sucked my thumb into her mouth, dragging her tongue across it with aching slowness.

Fuck! I stylishly used my hand to cover my bulging crotch. My cock pressed painfully against my slacks. Precum soaked the fabric at the tip.

“Even if it's just for a night,” she whispered, still sucking on my thumb. “I want you to help me forget my pains and everything that ever happened today.”

My gaze darkened. I cursed myself silently. My control was slipping faster than I imagined it could. My jaw clenched as my knuckles dug into the leather seat.

I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. We were still in the car, for fuck’s sake. But every second she looked at me like that, like I was the only man who could put her back together, something in me snapped.

And she wasn’t the only one losing her mind. Her legs were tense, thighs clenched, and I knew without even touching her that her pussy was soaked. She looked at me like I was her first and last salvation. Like she’d burn without this.

I slid my fingers beneath her jaw, holding her there.

“You’re making this very hard for me,” I muttered.

The moment her lips grazed my throat again, all of that burned away. Logic, grief, guilt—gone. What was left? Hunger. For her. For this.

And fuck it, I wanted to feel something alive for once.

My body moved before I could stop it.

I crushed my mouth to hers in a kiss that stole her breath, that tore through every layer of resistance I had left. My tongue slid along her lips, demanding entry. She complied and opened her mouth slightly and I plunged in, tasting her, claiming her.

There was no hesitation. My lips devoured hers like she was the one I had been waiting for.

I groaned into her mouth. Her moans melted against my tongue as I hauled her onto my lap. Her dress slid up, bunching around her hips. Her legs straddled me, her soaked underwear grinding against my cock through the fabric.

She gasped, her fingers threading through my hair.

The car had stopped which meant that we were in my estate.

I felt her tense when I pulled out her breast halfway from her dress. Her thighs tried to press together, but couldn’t with the way she straddled me. My groan was muffled by her mouth as my fingers pinched her nipple.

Hmm…so fucking sensitive. I liked it. I retract the statement I made once before that there was no way on earth a lady aside Melina could make my desires run wild because who on earth is this?

What this lady was making me feel? Out of the world. I'd pay whatever amount she requested just to experience this whenever I needed it. Because sincerely? This was exactly what I needed, my true coping mechanism.

She made me feel things I thought I'd locked up.

She gasped as soon as my lips left hers. I cupped her breasts, squeezing them together, and brought both pink nipples into my mouth, sucking hungrily.

I moved her hips slowly over my lap, the thick ridge of my cock rubbing against her folds through the thin fabric of her underwear. Her moans spilled against my neck.

It was reckless. Too fast, even. But nothing else had ever made me feel like this for a long while. I was almost tempted to ask where the hell she had been when I was miserable.

I felt her hands slide beneath my shirt, touching my taut muscles and the heat of skin. She gasped as my hands brushed her underwear.

“We’re going inside,” I growled as I tore my lips from her breast and lifted her effortlessly in my arms. “But if you stay, you need to know. I don’t do relationships.”

She stared at me, confused for a full second, before nodding in agreement.