THE GAME

Asher Prescott

The stack of paperwork sat in front of me like a mountain, my eyes burned from exhaustion and my patience was nonexistent. I leaned back in my leather chair, exhaling a sharp breath. This was the fifth assistant I had fired this year alone. Five in eight months, I do not enjoy the reputation of being a cold, impossible boss, but if people insisted on making stupid mistakes, what choice did I have?

Tonight’s disaster was inexcusable, it was past nine, and instead of reviewing the finalized documents for a billion-dollar deal I was signing at noon tomorrow, I was staring at the wrong file altogether. A merger contract had been swapped for a marketing proposal. 

I grabbed my phone and dialed my secretary, “You gave me the wrong documents,” I snapped. “If I don’t get the correct file on my desk tonight, in my house, don’t bother showing up tomorrow, consider yourself fired.” I ended the call before she could stammer out an excuse.

I raked my hand through my hair. Why do I always end up employing incompetents? If people weren’t held on a tight leash, the empire my family had built with blood and sweat would collapse overnight. 

I was strategizing how to salvage the situation when the door to my private office opened without so much as a knock. Sarah slipped in, her silk robe parting just enough to reveal the black lingerie beneath. She leaned against the doorframe like she owned the place, her lips curved into a sultry smile. She carried herself like a woman who knew exactly what she was worth, and exactly how to wield it, confident and Seductive, dangerous in her own way. 

“Asher,” she purred, crossing the room with deliberate sway, “I came to spend time with you, but all you’ve done all day is bury yourself in work. And now that you’re home, you’re still doing the same.”

I clenched my jaw, the timing couldn’t have been worse.

“I told you this is a busy period, Sarah, you insisted on coming. Don’t blame me for your disappointment.”

She perched herself on my desk, blocking the papers I was trying to read, and tilted her head with practiced sweetness. “If I wasn’t missing you so much, I wouldn’t be here, but you treat me like an option, Asher. I need your attention, your love, your care. Not just scraps of your time.”

I almost laughed, I knew where this conversation was going, “Sarah,” I said flatly, “take one of my cards and buy whatever you want. Or go on another vacation, whichever makes you happy.”

Her expression hardened, “Listen to yourself, I don’t need your money for trips, I can afford it. We have been engaged for over a year and my parents keep pestering me about a wedding date. I told them before the year ends—”

I cut her off with a sharp laugh, “To another man, maybe. Because I never made such an arrangement with you.”

Her eyes flashed, but she didn’t back down. Sarah was desperate, and desperation always made people bold. I had seen it too many times in business deals and backroom negotiations. She wanted the title, the prestige of being the billionaire’s wife. Our so called “engagement” was nothing but a business maneuver. 

I needed to appear respectable for a client who wouldn’t work with single men. Sarah had been convenient, attractive, already dating me casually, and more than willing to play the part of a doting fiancée. I’d given her a ring for the show, but she turned the act into her reality. She posted it online, told her friends, told her parents. 

“Asher,” she pressed, voice rising, “you’ve changed since you said you have a crazy conversation with your grandmother. You have been colder and distant, I know she doesn’t like me, and frankly, I don’t give a damn—”

“Watch it.” My tone dropped. 

She went silent, but I saw the anger simmering in her eyes. Maybe she was right, though. I had been on edge since that day with my grandmother. Since I signed that cursed document.

It still haunted me, the memory. She had handed me papers to sign, swearing it was something minor, a harmless favor. I hadn’t read it, trusting her like I always had. And in doing so, I had bound myself in marriage to a woman I had never met. 

The idea infuriated me, I didn’t want to know her name, her face, or her circumstances. Anyone who would agree to such a contract had to be desperate, and I wanted no part in that kind of desperation. It reminded me too much of Sarah, only worse.

Grandma thought she was saving me from becoming like my father. My father had loved once too much and whenmy mother left him for another man, he had shattered. I watched him spiral, dragging our empire to the edge of ruin until Grandma’s iron will pulled it back together. When he recovered, he became a man whore, filling his bed with women but never his heart. I suspected Grandma feared I would follow that path.

But her “solution” was unacceptable.

She was leaving for Italy soon, returning to her roots now that her husband, my grandfather was long gone. She had raised me after my mother abandoned us. She had been my anchor and yet, she had betrayed me in the name of protecting me.

Still, I had a plan, I would reach out to my lawyer, ask him to draft a deal then i will have it sent to her in Florida before visiting her with an offer, a deal no sane woman could refuse, and buy my way out of this farce. Desperate girls always accepted money. 

Sarah’s voice yanked me from my thoughts. “Fine,” she muttered, sliding off my desk. “I won’t bring up marriage tonight, Just… I need you inside me, Asher, I’m really horny.” She loosened her robe, revealing smooth skin, her breasts spilling forward as she arched her back in invitation.

For a fleeting second, I considered it. She was beautiful, and the offer was tempting but the weight pressing on my shoulders was heavier than lust. I had no time for this.

“I need to call my lawyer,” I said curtly, moving past her.

Her lips parted in outrage as I brushed her aside. She huffed, following me into the hall, complaining about how I had been starving her, how she wasn’t asking for much. But her voice was drowned out by the ringing of my phone.

I glanced at the screen, my secretary, at least she wasn’t so incompetent as to forget my ultimatum.

I answered, my mind already shifting back to business, to damage control. Because soon, my company, my future, and maybe even this sham of a marriage would come crashing down if I don’t spring into action as soon as possible.