Asher by Shandi Boyes

Author:Shandi Boyes [Boyes, Shandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shandi Boyes

Chapter Nineteen

Zariah

My hands rattle when they accept my fifth glass of champagne from the bartender. I want to say my shaking is due to the numerous pairs of eyes I feel boring into the back of my head, but that would be a lie. It’s Asher and the crazy inane feelings my head is muddled with.

Only six weeks ago, he let one of his goons rough-handle me without speaking a word. Now, he’s having them killed for looking in my direction. My emotions have been all over the place since I was thrust back into his life, but that annoying trait doesn’t usually affect men like Asher. They’re too pigheaded to have feelings, much less act on them.

Lenin pushes a tray of hors d’oeuvres to my side of the bar. “Perhaps you should have something to eat between glasses.”

He’d never say anything, but I don’t need his words to know he’s worried I’m downing champagne too quickly. Someone who has lived a sheltered life like mine is a lightweight in general, but I need something to take the edge off. The hungry eyes of strangers aren’t the only ones bombarding me the past two hours. I’ve also captured Asher’s heated stare numerous times.

I thought he’d be angry I stormed away from him at the start of the night, but it had the opposite effect. He seems to appreciate the distance. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no denying I’m under his watch. I just thought what happened earlier moved us away from the game he’s been playing the past two weeks—the one where he watches me when he thinks I don’t know he is.

Although frustrated we’re back at square one, I’m grateful his eyes are on me and not one of the many women vying for his attention. He doesn’t give them an ounce of interest while schmoozing the men my father wined and dined back in his glory days.

Half the men in this room orchestrated my father’s demise. The front runner of the campaign was the same man who brought me to climax earlier tonight. I should hate Asher for it; my father didn’t deserve to be treated so poorly, but a part of me is also grateful. If he wasn’t forced from his throne, I’d most likely still be locked in the ivory tower my mother’s death shoved me in. I’m no freer today than I was six weeks ago, but I can feel my wings expanding. They’re clipped, but fanning out nonetheless.

Feeling better than I did a mere minute ago, I spin around to face the succession of people. Smoke lingers high in the air. The stench should be overwhelming, but since they’re smoking only the finest cigars, it has a nice spicy wood scent attached to it. Approximately two dozen women are scattered amongst the men. For the most part, they’re dressed similarly to me, but there are a handful of the ones you expect at every gathering who are less covered than their ritzy counterparts.

It’s impossible

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