Edmund
I was just coming back from the gym when I heard my father's voice through the slightly open door of his study. I was still breathing hard, sweat clinging to my shirt, towel slung over my shoulder.
I slowed down as I got closer to his study. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop on his conversation or anything but it just happened and I overheard a few things that made me intrigued.
"The deal still stands, Julio," my father said. "That bastard isn't even my real son, but he doesn't have to know that. Dragunov and the entire bratva pack would never find out. It's like killing two birds with one stone."
My hand froze on the doorframe. Who was he talking about? And who the hell was Dragunov?
There was a pause. Then a slight movement. My father turned and saw me standing there. His face changed in a second. Whatever had been there before vanished.
"I'll call you back," he said quickly, then ended the call.
He cleared his throat. "Edmund. What can I help you with now?"
I stepped fully into the room. "I want to go over my trust fund."
He frowned. He seemed really taken aback by my statement.
"Your trust fund?"
"Yes."
"Why?" he asked. "Why all of a sudden?"
I shrugged. "I just want to know how much I have."
"You've never cared about that before."
"I've always cared but you said I had to turn a certain age first," I said.
He watched me for a moment. "It's not time yet."
"I'm not asking to touch it. I just want to know."
"You're not asking to touch it. But yet you want the details."
"I want information on how much I have. They're two different things, father."
He leaned back in his chair. "There's nothing you need to worry about."
"That's not an answer."
He ignored that. "Aren't you supposed to be at the office today?"
"Asher's team sent a memo," I said. "I'm to report much later."
He nodded slowly. "Soon enough, you'll like it. There'll be nothing to worry about. I'll make sure the company is handled in your absence and as for your trust fund, it's in good hands."
I smiled. "There's no need to say that, Father. I'm still here. It's not like the company is crumbling or I'm going anywhere."
He didn't say anything after that.
I left his study. Fuck, I stink. I was badly in need of a shower.
Upstairs, I took off my clothes and got into the shower, letting the cold water massage my skin.
After I was done, I dropped to my bed. I stared at the ceiling for a while, then grabbed my phone. I tried not to over think it. I just opened the tab and went straight to Asher's profile.
Photos of him at events immediately appeared before I could finish typing his name.
He had a lot of followers and his comment section had a lot of people fawning over him. He barely replied to any of them. I smirked. Typical of him. He was an arrogant ass and would make sure that everyone knew he was not on their level. That was the thing about Asher.
He wasn't just powerful or the average billionaire who built his empire from scratch. He commanded a certain edge of authority that was way beyond the office walls. There's just something so strange about him and I can't quite put my finger on it.
That aside, why? Why was I here, scrolling through his page like a stalker? Well, maybe that's because you are.
I am no stalker! There's nothing wrong about going through your boss's profile, people do that all the time and I just happen to be one of them.
Yeah right.
Headlines about recent deals and acquisitions were plastered all over his highlights. Arrogant prick. If I were him, I'd do the same as well. In fact, I would have it all over my page, so the world knows how fast I'm growing.
A few tagged posts from people of popular reputation. I kept scanning his profile with so much interest, you'd think I was a teen trying to get to know their crush. As if that's not what you're doing.
I scrolled longer than I meant to. His profile didn't have many pictures but I kept staring, reading comments and completely lost track of time.
I checked the time and swore. "Fuck I'm late!"
I jumped up, showered again, dressed fast, and ordered the driver to take a shortcut.
My stomach twisted the whole way.
When I got there, the secretary looked at me with a pitying expression. "Asher is waiting for you."
Fuck.
I was twenty minutes late.
I walked into his office. It was empty. I tried to calm my breathing and mentally prepare myself for what I would say was the reason for my lateness. I was doing that when a masculine scent completely gripped my nostrils and practically serenaded me with heat.
Fuck! Asher had good taste in perfumes. I angled my head like a thirsty dog and took in the scent even more. I was so lost in it when the hairs on my neck suddenly stood and the air became hard to breathe in. The entire atmosphere was soaked as hell. And truth be told, when his voice came up behind me, the atmosphere wasn't the only thing that was soaked.
"Why are you late again, Edmund?"
His voice slid down my spine in a way that terrified me and did very dangerous things to my groin region.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
"I'm talking to you, Edmund." I could feel him towering over me and for some odd reason, I was restraining myself from dropping my head against his chest. Get a grip of yourself you touch starved fuck.
That was all the confirmation I needed. I had to get laid, soon and fast. Because why else would such thoughts even be crossing my mind?
I turned. His eyes hit me like a wall. I stepped back, misjudged the distance, and nearly fell. I thought this was it.
My shame. My humiliation. But suddenly, strong hands shot out and grabbed me almost immediately and I was pulled back before I hit the floor.
He slammed me into his chest and fuck, he smelt so fucking good.
I looked up to see his face and immediately wished I didn't. The intensity of his stare, plus the closeness of our bodies, had me wishing that I'd fallen on the floor instead. Fucking hell! He was so…..
"You still haven't answered my question, Edmund," he said my name in that fucking deep voice. Almost a whisper.
"I'm sorry," I blurted. "I had to do something for my father. It won't happen again."
He didn't let go right away. His gaze stayed on my face, heavy and unreadable.
"You're not going home tonight," he said, then suddenly released me like I burned him.
I stumbled but stayed upright. My heart was racing. What did he mean by that?