CHAPTER 2

Harper 

Although we had never met, I knew it was him instantly. He was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a sharp black suit that looked like it had been molded perfectly to his frame. 

His white shirt was left casually unbuttoned at the collar, completely omitting a tie, and his dark hair was styled neatly back from his forehead. He walked with an effortless, innate confidence, the kind that suggested he had never once in his life had to wonder whether he belonged in a room. His sun-bronzed skin contrasted sharply against the crisp white fabric of his shirt, and his deep, chocolate-brown eyes swept across the space with absolute assurance.

Then, his gaze settled on me. The moment our eyes locked, the air left my lungs, and my fingers tightened around my water glass until my knuckles turned white.

He was gorgeous. The thought flashed in my mind, involuntary and sudden, and I immediately slammed the door on it. I hadn't come here to admire the man, nor was I about to develop some pathetic crush. I was here for the money. Period.

He approached my table with relaxed but undeniably powerful strides, his expression a mask of cool composure.

"Miss Collins?" his voice smooth and deep.

I forced myself to stand, my knees feeling slightly hollow. "Yes."

He extended his hand toward me. "Asher."

I accepted his hand nervously, praying to whatever deity was listening that he wouldn't notice the slight dampness of my palms. "Nice to meet you."

His grip was firm, radiating a steady warmth. He held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, his chocolate-brown eyes weighing me before he finally released his hold.

"Likewise," he murmured.

He pulled out the chair directly opposite mine, sat down with a fluid grace, and placed his phone face-up beside his plate. The game had officially begun.

A waiter appeared beside us almost immediately, treating Asher with a level of deference that spoke volumes.

"Good evening, Mr. Hayes."

"Evening, Daniel." Asher barely glanced up from the menu. "The usual wine pairing for the steak. And bring us some sparkling water, please."

"Certainly, sir."

Daniel vanished as quickly as he had appeared, and Asher turned his dark eyes toward me. "Have you decided what you'd like?"

I lowered my eyes to the heavy cardstock of the menu. The descriptions were elaborate, a dizzying list of imported ingredients, and the total absence of prices made my stomach twist with discomfort. I had no way of knowing if these dishes were merely expensive or completely astronomical. I reminded myself that I wasn't the one footing the bill tonight. 

Still, when you've spent your some parts of your life counting pennies, the habit of calculating every single expense is impossible to break.

"I haven't," I admitted, a hot blush creeping up my neck.

"Alright," he said, his voice entirely unbothered. "Take your time."

I nodded, my lips pressed together as I tried to swallow my embarrassment. Without another word, he returned his attention to his menu, leaving me to stare at his profile for a long, quiet moment.

He was remarkably calm, radiating a quiet, unshakeable confidence. Watching him, I couldn't help but wonder: Did he do this every week? Was booking women through an agency just a routine part of his lifestyle? Was I simply another line item in his schedule, a task to be checked off before he moved on to the next deal? The thought sent a sharp, bitter twist through my stomach. Lowering my eyes, I forced myself to stare at the text on the menu until the words blurred together. 

Eventually, I settled on the grilled chicken with roasted vegetables. Asher ordered a rare steak, and with a polite nod, the waiter vanished into the crowded room.

Asher immediately returned his attention to his phone, his brow furrowed as if he were managing a massive corporate crisis. For several long moments, neither of us spoke. The silence pressed down on me, heavy and completely unbearable, until I finally cracked.

"So," I began, the syllable slipping out before I could stop it. I immediately regretted opening my mouth.

Asher’s eyes lifted from the screen, tracking slowly up to my face. "So?"

I swallowed hard, the fabric of my tight dress suddenly feeling suffocating. "Is this your first time using the agency?"

His expression didn't change, remaining a mask of smooth composure, but a faint glint in his dark eyes suggested the question had genuinely amused him. He cocked an eyebrow.

 "That's an interesting way to start a conversation."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Don't apologize." He leaned back slightly in his chair, crossing his arms. "And no, it's not."

"Oh."

"Does that bother you?”

I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. 

"I—" The word died on my tongue as the waiter reappeared with our drinks, cleanly cutting off the conversation. Asher offered a brief thank you, and I immediately busied myself with my glass, desperately trying to piece my composure back together. The truth was, it did bother me. It bothered me intensely, even though I had absolutely no right to feel that way.

Dinner arrived shortly afterward. The presentation was exquisite, though I barely registered the taste of the first few bites. I was entirely consumed by the presence of the man sitting directly across from me, the clinical desperation that had brought us together, and the heavy reality of what was waiting for us once we left the restaurant.

Asher, on the other hand, was the picture of perfect ease. He started asking a few casual questions, likely reading the tension in my shoulders and trying to lighten the suffocating mood. I found myself telling him that I was in my second year of college.

"What are you studying?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a steady rhythm.

"Business administration."

His eyebrows rose slightly, a slow, intriguing look crossing his features. 

"Interesting."

A sudden heat warmed my cheeks, forcing me to concentrate very hard on the absolute precision of cutting my chicken. He didn't push me any further, and gradually, the tight knot in my chest began to loosen. When I did speak, he actually listened, though he kept the conversation entirely one-sided, offering absolutely nothing about himself. Not that I minded—the less I knew about him, the easier it would be to pretend this was just a job.

When dinner finally ended, Asher placed his linen napkin neatly beside his plate. 

"Ready?"

My fork paused mid-air. The word was simple. The meaning beneath it was anything but.

I carefully set the cutlery down and managed a small nod. "Yes."

He stood up, his towering frame casting a shadow over the table as he offered me his hand. I stared at his palm for a fraction of a second before placing mine inside it. His fingers closed around mine, helping me out of my chair with effortless strength, then he waited patiently while I gathered my cheap handbag. We walked out of the restaurant together, stepping toward the point of no return.

The hallway outside was much quieter, lit by recessed fixtures that threw a soft, golden warmth over the walls. Asher walked right beside me, the heat of his hand firm against the small of my back. 

When we reached the elevator banks, he reached out and pressed the button. I stood there staring fixedly at the glowing floor numbers, desperate for something to look at besides him. The doors slid open with a soft chime. Asher stepped inside, his hand guiding me into the mirrored car behind him. The ride up to the penthouse level was entirely silent, the heavy air thick with anticipation.

When the doors parted again, he led me down a plushly carpeted corridor toward a private suite. Pulling a sleek key card from his pocket, he swiped it and pushed the heavy door open, stepping aside to let me cross the threshold first.

The suite was absolutely massive. A sprawling sitting area took up one side of the space, anchored by a deep cream sofa, rich wooden accents, and another panoramic, floor-to-ceiling window showcasing the glittering city below. 

Through an open doorway, I could see a massive bedroom dominated by a king-sized bed wrapped in crisp, immaculate white linens. Everything was flawless. Everything was wildly expensive. 

I froze just a couple of feet inside the entryway, my arms hanging awkwardly, suddenly entirely uncertain what to do with my own hands.

Behind me, the click of the door latch signaled that Asher had closed it.

For a long, agonizing beat, neither of us moved. Then, the rustle of fabric broke the silence as he removed his suit jacket and unclasped his watch, setting them both onto the entryway table. He was watching me intently now, his expression completely serious. The easy, faint amusement he'd shown at dinner had vanished entirely. My mouth went bone-dry.

"Come here."

The words were quiet, but they carried an absolute, unshakeable authority. I forced my feet to move, taking a few agonizing steps toward him until there was barely any distance left between us. His gaze drifted slowly over my face, charting every flicker of my anxiety before his eyes dropped to mine.

"Undress yourself," he said.

A fierce, burning heat rushed to my cheeks at the direct command. 

"Okay," I squeaked out, the syllable catching in my tight throat. Reaching blindly behind my back, my fingers fumbled against the delicate fabric, searching for the zipper. 

My hands were shaking so badly I lost my grip twice, the metal catching before I finally found my purchase. With a slow, agonizing slide, the zipper gave way, and the tension of the bodice freed. Gathering every ounce of courage I had left, I pushed the thin satin straps off my shoulders.

The heavy burgundy fabric slid down my arms, whispering against my skin before settling in a pool around my feet. I stepped out of the fabric, leaving me standing completely exposed before him in nothing but a matching burgundy bra and panties.

A wave of heat flooded my face. Instinctively, I folded my arms across my belly, adjusting to the sudden feeling of exposure. But Asher’s focus remained steady. He didn’t laugh, nor did he make a single casual remark that might have made me feel uncomfortable. He simply observed with a quiet intensity that emphasized the remaining space between us.

"Don't cover yourself," he murmured, his voice low and firm. I slowly dropped my arms to my sides, but I couldn't force myself to meet his eyes. I kept my gaze locked firmly on the floor, managing the rush of anticipation and nervousness.

"Harper, look at me."

I forced my chin up, and the moment my eyes met his, my heart stumbled over its own beat. He stepped forward, closing the final inch between us, and his palm settled heavily against the bare skin of my waist. His chocolate-brown eyes searched my face, tracking the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, demanding absolute honesty.

I nodded immediately.

"Use your words."

"Yes," I whispered. Then, clawing my way through the panic to find a final shred of courage, I cleared my throat and added, 

"I'm sure."

His gaze held mine for one more agonizing second, testing my resolve. Then, whatever rigid restraint he’d been holding onto seemed to snap entirely. His grip tightened around my waist, spinning me around until my back met the cool wall. In a flash, he braced his large hand beside my head, effectively trapping me between the solid surface and the heat of his massive body.

I barely had time to draw a single breath before his mouth crashed down on mine.

He claimed my mouth like a man possessed, his touch starving and fierce. 

In an instant, the financial worries, the auction house atmosphere of the restaurant, and my own careful calculations were completely wiped clean. I couldn't think. I could only feel.