Page 23 of Always Mine (The Barrington Billionaires 1)
Seeing himself through his father’s eyes was even less flattering. Asher would never intentionally hurt Emily. Yes, he wanted her. Yes, he lost his cool around her, but he cared about her. Proof of that was how he couldn’t seem to get out of his own way when it came to resolving anything with her.
Without pausing to think about it, Asher knew he could list a hundred things he liked about her. He liked how she saw the world and how he saw it when he was with her. He didn’t want to be a hammer if she needed a hero.
With a curt nod, Asher looked back at the exhibit door. He hadn’t said a word about it, but he knew how important the event must be to Emily. If he required proof that he was a jackass, it was right there, behind that door. “Dad, do you have the code to get into the exhibit?”
“Yes,” his father answered simply.
“Can you give me a tour of it?”
His father smiled broadly. “Gladly.”
As they walked through the exhibit, Asher stopped to touch some of Emily’s three-dimensional paintings. Like her mother’s, they were emotionally charged, honest. They reminded him of the sketches she’d left in his apartment in Paris. “Emily isn’t marrying anyone but me,” Asher said aloud without meaning to.
His father gave him a pat on the back. “I know, Son. I know.”
Chapter Twelve
‡
Emily was throwing her clothing into her luggage and gathering her things from her room at the Barrington house. She wasn’t about to stay in that house a moment longer than she had to. She’d call Celeste on the way to her house. She didn’t know what she’d say to Sophie about leaving, but she knew she couldn’t stay.
Kiss me and prove it.
I don’t have to prove anything to that . . . arrogant, self-centered, egomaniac of a man. I’m glad I told him what I think of him. He’s exactly who I thought he was when I first met him. I don’t know why I ever let myself imagine he had more to him than that.
The door to her room opened. She didn’t turn to see who it was. Sophie was always the one who hunted her down around mealtime. “I’m sorry, Sophie, but I can’t stay here anymore.”
“Don’t leave because I’m an asshole, Emily.”
Emily swung around to find Asher standing a foot behind her. If she was hoping he’d look contrite, she was quickly disappointed. He met her eyes with his usual, confident stare. “I’m leaving because you were right: I don’t belong here. This is your family, not mine.”
Asher sat on the bed beside her open suitcase. “At the moment, I wouldn’t put that to a vote.”
Emily continued to pack as anger surged within her. “Pardon me if I don’t laugh at your jokes.”
“The work that took me away from Paris was important and all-consuming.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Emily said angrily as she threw things into her bag.
“It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”
“Well, you did.” She turned to glare at him. “But I’ve had weeks to get over you, and I have. Now, if we’re done, can you go so I can finish packing?”
Asher didn’t budge. He studied her for a moment then said, “I had roses with me when I returned to the apartment. Roses and some gifts for you.”
Emily paused and put a hand on one of her hips. “Did you honestly think I would be there? After weeks of hearing nothing from you?”
He made a face as if he wanted to say yes but knew it was the wrong answer. “I said I’d be back.”
Emily shook out a shirt before folding it. “You told me to stay, but I’m not a dog.” Feelings she thought she’d put behind her came rushing back, and she clenched her hands at her sides. “Do you know what the worst part was? I knew what you were like, but when you took me to all those places I never thought I’d actually see and were so damn nice, I thought you cared about me. I thought—” She stopped herself from saying more.
“I do.”
Emily bent to retrieve a shoe from beneath the bed and then slammed it into the suitcase. “No, you don’t. People who care don’t leave you in Paris alone.”
“My staff had instructions to make sure you had everything you needed. You were hardly alone.”
“Fuck you.”
Asher stood. “Well, I can see you’re still angry.”
Emily looked up at him and her temper soared again. “I am.”
They stood nose to nose, both breathing heavily. “What do you want me to say, Emily?”
“Are you sorry about how you left me in Paris?”
“I said I never meant to hurt you.”
“But are you sorry?”
“I did what I had to do.”
“You can’t even say it, can you? What are you afraid of?” She turned her back to him.
After a long moment, Asher cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry.”
Emily looked over her shoulder. “My grandfather used to say, ‘Sorry means you’ll never do it again.’ I don’t know if you understand what being sorry really means.”
Asher held her eyes. “I’ve gone after everything I’ve ever wanted the same way, and I’ve always won. I don’t know how to win with you, Emily.”
She turned around to face him again. “That’s because we’re not on opposing teams. At least, we shouldn’t be.”
He brought a hand up to cup one side of her face. “I wasn’t pretending in Paris. I enjoyed being with you. My company has a facility in Trundaie that was under imminent threat of being attacked. Telling anyone where I was going or what I was doing there could have put lives at risk.”
“Trundaie? Aren’t they verging on a civil war?”
Asher nodded. “Working with them is profitable but not without risk.”
“You could have told me. I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone.”
“I’d known you for two weeks and lives were at stake.”
Emily looked away then back at him. She didn’t want to see his point at all and hated that she could. She reminded herself about what he’d said when he’d left her and how high-handed he’d been at the exhibit. A thought occurred to her and she blushed. “How much did Dale hear us say?”
He put his hands on her hips and pulled her gently to him. “Enough to lecture me on my behavior.”
Emily folded her arms across her chest, but she didn’t pull away from him. “He did?”
Asher hugged Emily to his chest. “He did. And he was right.”
Emily stood there tensely for a minute, then relaxed and wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest. His heart was beating wildly just as hers was. “I still want to kick you in the shin.”
“Let’s try it later, naked,” Asher murmured against her hair.
Emily swallowed hard. She knew if she looked up at him they would kiss, but her emotions were still too raw, so she simply hugged him tighter. He could have died in Trundaie. The thought twisted her gut. Yes, he had h
urt her, and the idea of opening her heart to him again was terrifying, but not half as much as the thought of never seeing him again. In the beginning she’d wondered if her response to him had come from simply craving intimacy with another person; now she saw it for what it was. Right or wrong, in Asher’s arms was where she wanted to be.
The door opened after a brief knock, and Sophie walked in. “Oh, good, you two have made up. Which doesn’t mean you’ll be sharing a room. None of that unless you’re married, but I’m happy to see you’ve worked everything out. Now, come on. Dinner is ready, and everyone is waiting.”
At dinner, Asher sat beside Emily and was filled with unlabeled emotions as he watched her interact with his family. The first unexpected realization was that all of his siblings, except Andrew, were in attendance. On a normal week, one or two of them might be there, but full attendance was usually reserved for holidays or the one week each year when they gathered for their mother. It was more, though, than simply the fact that they were all there. The usual underlying tension that made family dinners nearly unbearable was absent.
Asher studied the group as a whole and then individually as he sought the source of the difference. His gaze kept going back to Emily and how her presence appeared to affect his family. His mother was smiling and calm instead of looking emotionally fragile as she normally did during that time of year.
His mother put a hand on his father’s arm and said, “And then Emily asked if they were sisters. Cecelia was thrilled, but her daughter stomped off. You know how uppity she can be.”
Emily pointed across the table at his brother Lance. “Someone, although I can’t say who, told me they were sisters.”
Lance sat back in his chair and shrugged off the accusation. “I can’t tell Mom’s friends apart. Everyone over the age of eighty looks the same to me.”
His mother made a mock gasp of outrage. “Neither I nor my friends are even close to eighty. I should make you come to our next bridge club as my partner. Dale, don’t you think that would be a wonderful way for him to learn their names?”
