Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Naturally, I loved it the moment I saw it. I still love it, even if everything inside has been poisoned by memory.
My boots hit the same steps, but now everything’s changed.
The door swings open. “Frau Ivanya!” Jasper fills the frame, flour dusted across his forearm and a canvas duffel over his shoulder. His face splits wide as he rattles off a string of German, too fast for me to catch it all, but I get the bones.
The heating system works.
The pool filter was replaced.
The guest house roof got patched after the last storm.
I laugh, hugging him. “Hey, Jasper. You heading off?”
“Ja, holiday. One month. Back to Munich.” He taps his chest twice. “My distant aunt, she is seventy this year. Big party.”
I squeeze Jasper’s arm. “Tell her happy birthday from me.”
He nods, already moving, but stops. “Everything is good here. The garden, I will have someone come.”
My throat swells. “Go, Jasper. Enjoy it.”
I turn back to the open door and breathe in deep. This will be fine. So what if I’ve been dodging this place since everything went to shit. Asher is alive now.
Before I can enter into the house fully, the deep snarl of an expensive engine rolls up the driveway, and despite my better judgment, I glance over my shoulder.
A familiar matte black McLaren parks behind the Aston, and Asher climbs out in gray sweats and a black hoodie, with a pair of Jordans tied loose at his feet.
Pale eyes land on me, darkening and holding me there long enough for me to know he’s pissed.
He drags his gaze to Jasper, and all that anger melts into that boyish grin he’s famous for. Huh. He’s the biggest fucking play of all.
“Jasper, my guy.” He clasps his hand, yanking him into one of those one-armed grip-hug things men do. “How’s the boiler holding up?”
Jasper lights up. “Fixed. New valve, new pump. No more banging in the walls at night.”
Asher continues. “And the cabana fireplace?”
“Runs perfect. I replaced the ignition switch myself.” Jasper taps his temple. “YouTube.”
Asher laughs. “Legend.”
I watch it unfold from the top step. Why are they talking back and forth about maintenance issues like Asher owns this house and not me?
Jasper gestures toward the Aston Martin. “She drove your car here, yes?”
Asher looks up at me. The grin doesn’t fade, but the warmth behind it does. “Yeah.” He pats Jasper’s shoulder. “Does that surprise you?”
“No!” Jasper chuckles, continuing on his way. When it’s finally just Asher and me, I turn my back to him and enter the house, dumping the keys on the coffee table in the living room as the door clicks shut behind him.
This was the room where we had our almost first kiss.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, ignoring the kitchen on purpose. I keep my focus on the fireplace, but then I’m reminded of the night he ordered takeout…
This is why I never came back here.
“And what is this place? Veilarath, I mean?” I lower to the sofa. “Is the house we’re staying in the one you were waiting to be built?”
When he doesn’t answer, I lift my eyes to his. I shouldn’t have, because now I have to multitask to not completely fall apart. Weak, weak, weak.
Every second drags like an hour as he lowers down the steps and takes the spot opposite.
Another second.
He rests his head back against the sofa, eyes pinned on the ceiling. “I loved you.”
The words hit me right in the chest. “I...”
He shakes his head, cutting me off. “Don’t say shit until you’ve heard what I have to say.”
He shifts forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs.
Tension snaps through the room like a live wire, then his shoulders cave with a sigh and his head drops into his hands. The sound he makes is barely human.
My knees hit the floor and I cup his face, thumbs dragging along the rough line of his jaw.
“Hey.” I’ve never seen him like this. “Hey, look at me.”
He pulls back, hands rising to push me away, but I hold on until his fingers go slack.
“None of it matters.” I keep my voice low. “I know who you are. You know what I do for a living, remember? Whatever you think I can’t handle — you know I’ve handled worse.”
His mouth twitches, one corner lifting before it drops. His eyes settle on me, freezing my next breath halfway in.
He swallows, brows pinched tight. “There’s a saying where I come from. Les amants maudits.” His lips part, closing again as he leans back in the chair. The wood groans under him as he drags a finger over his upper lip, taking his sweet fucking time.
“Asher.” I squeeze his thigh. “Your fucking manspread has officially failed as a distraction. Speak.”
“Hmph.” He smirks behind his hand, pitching his weight forward again. “What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room. Not a text. Not a call. Not even to Luce or Jord.”