Break of Day Read online

  “Look, Asher, I—”

  But I never got out what I was going to say. Because at that moment, Asher’s cell phone chimed, announcing an incoming message. He pulled it from his pocket and his eyes scanned the screen. Then he cursed under his breath.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  He sighed. “Do you mind if we take the rest to go? I need to go meet my mother and give her something.”

  “Sure,” I said, surprised to feel sudden disappointment well in my stomach. After all, hadn’t I just wanted to get away from all this only minutes before? And here was the perfect out. “That’s fine.”

  “You could come,” he added suddenly.

  “Oh. Um.” I bit my lower lip. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

  “You won’t be. In fact, you can help me get away quicker. Otherwise my mom will want me to stay all night.” He made a face. Then his eyes locked on me. “Besides, I’m not ready for this night to end. Are you?”

  I should have been. But of course I wasn’t.

  seventeen

  PIPER

  When Asher said he had to meet his mother, I assumed we’d be going to his parents’ house. Or maybe to News 9 even, where she had her office; from what I heard she put in crazy hours there and would often stay quite late into the night. Instead, forty-five minutes later, we pulled into an elegant golf club in Rancho Santa Fe and before I knew it, the valet was opening my door, addressing me as ma’am.

  And here we went again.

  “Maybe I should wait in the car,” I stammered, looking around the parking lot at all the BMWs and Mercedes and Cadillacs. Gone was the down-home, warm vibe of Miguel’s and suddenly it was the Del Mar Yacht Club part deux. “I’m really not dressed for this place.”

  “Neither am I,” Asher said, tossing the valet his keys. At first I wondered if the man was going to turn up his nose at the very out-of-place Fiona, tarnishing their shiny, sparkling auto zone, but then I caught sight of the fat wad of bills Asher handed him along with his keys. He probably wasn’t judging too hard.

  That said, he might be the only one. The other guests, milling about, especially the women, were definitely staring at us. And judging. And giving me the evil eye.

  Asher seemed not to notice any of it. He grabbed my hand. “Come on,” he said, leveling those green eyes of his directly at me, as if I was the only person there. “The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out.”

  I nodded, squaring my shoulders and tilting my chin up high. Gathering together all my inner strength to walk past the staring women, as if I owned the place. As if I deserved to be here, at a country club, with Asher Anderson on my arm.

  As we entered the lounge, I looked around. The dining room was clearly designed to give off a rich but cozy vibe, with dim lighting tinged with purple and comfy armchairs surrounding a roaring fire. There were couches and candles and plantation shutters opening up to a sparkling deck overlooking what appeared to be a golf course.

  “This place is amazing.” I couldn’t help but marvel.

  Asher looked around, as if seeing it for the first time. “It’s pretty nice,” he agreed. “A little less obnoxious than some of the places my parents frequent.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I won’t subject you to my mother. Why don’t you wait for me at the bar and I’ll be back in five minutes?”

  My pulse kicked up in alarm, my confidence fleeing the building. It was one thing to be here with him. Quite another to stand by myself, looking so out of place. Still, what could I say? I couldn’t very well demand to butt in on his and his mother’s private conversation.

  “Sure, that’s fine,” I said. “Take your time.”

  Or, you know, hurry the hell up.

  He reached out, squeezing my hand in his before disappearing into the lounge. I watched him go, cradling the hand in question, trying not to focus on how warm and nice it felt from his touch. My mind flashed back to the make-out session on the dance floor at Miguel’s and I shivered a little, wondering where this night would ultimately lead. What was I still doing here? I should have never agreed to come along. We should have parted ways when the parting was good and not have tempted fate further than we already had.

  I sidled up to the bar, figuring maybe I’d order a drink while I was waiting. Just a glass of wine to take the edge off. But then I remembered what Asher had told me at the Mexican restaurant. He was two years sober. And while I myself had no issues with alcohol, I knew from my mom’s experience it could be tough to abstain while those around you were indulging. So when the bartender came to take my drink order, I asked for a Diet Coke instead.

  A four-dollar Diet Coke, I soon learned as she placed my drink and my check in front of me. Holy crap. Maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t asked for any alcohol.

  I reached into my pocket for my wallet, but to my surprise she waved me off. “You’re with Asher, right?” she asked. “I can just put it on his tab.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I can pay for my own drink.”

  I’d tried to insist on paying for my meal at Miguel’s as well, but Asher wouldn’t hear of it. When he wasn’t looking I slipped an extra twenty into the billfold as a tip. (Not that he hadn’t already left a generous one himself.)

  The bartender looked surprised but didn’t argue, just scooped up my money and walked away. I took my glass, bringing it to my lips, surveying the scene.

  It was then that I realized I was being watched—by a group of young women across the room. They were all dressed like they belonged here, in simple but expensive-looking sheath dresses and smart stiletto heels that probably cost more than I could have gotten for trading in my car. My skin prickled and I pulled out my phone, pretending to check my messages as I prayed Asher would return before they got brave and approached me.

  Sadly my prayers went unanswered and soon I found myself surrounded by the group. Each girl looked me up and down in turn, not disguising her curiosity, as if I was some exotic animal she’d discovered at the zoo. I squirmed a little, suddenly feeling like what a gazelle must feel like, surrounded by lions.

  It’s no big deal, I told myself. They can’t do anything to you. Just keep your cool.

  “Hiiii!” The first girl who had approached greeted me, her voice far too bright and cheery for my liking. “I don’t think we’ve met, have we? I’m Madison Van Voorhees! And this is Tracy and Rian! You came here with Asher, right?”

  She stuck out a well-manicured hand. Reluctantly I took it, giving it a hesitant pump. Her palm was ridiculously soft, as if she’d done nothing but moisturize it for the last six months. Maybe she had.

  “Um, hi. I’m Piper,” I said, trying to keep my voice casual and unaffected. “And yeah, Asher went to go talk to his mother. I’m sure he’ll be back in a second.” My gaze darted behind them, searching for the man in question, but unfortunately he was nowhere in sight. I wondered if it would be rude to excuse myself and run screaming away before this got any more awkward. But at this point they pretty much had me surrounded and pinned with the bar at my back. Any escape seemed futile.

  The girls exchanged glances and giggled. “I haven’t seen Asher in forever,” the second girl—Tracy—declared. She was beautiful and African-American and had the shiniest black hair I had ever seen, wound up in a tangle of braids.

  “Yeah, well, you know he thinks he’s too good for this place,” added the third girl, Rian, a brunette with a cute pixie cut that I could have never pulled off if I tried.

  “He is too good for this place, Rian,” corrected Madison with a dreamy look on her face. “God, he is too good for everywhere.” She turned back to me, her wide blue eyes locking on to my own, giving me a searching look. “Especially in bed. Am I right?”

  “Wh-what?” I stammered, staring at her, my face exploding with heat.

  She gave me a skeptical look. “Come on. You are sleeping with him, right?”


  Oh. My. God.

  “You’re embarrassing her, Madison,” scolded Rian. “And, come on! Is that even a question? I mean, we are talking about Asher Anderson, aren’t we? Haven’t we all slept with him at least once?”

  “Guilty!” Madison chirped, raising a hand. Then she smiled at me. “Guess you’re one of the tribe now, hon.”

  “I’m not sleeping with him,” I protested, my eyes darting around the room in total panic mode, wondering who might be overhearing this conversation. There could be people from News 9 here even—people who could affect my employment. “We’re just coworkers.”

  Coworkers who make out and go on dates, something inside me nagged. But I pushed it down. They didn’t need to know those gory details. It would only give them more ammunition.

  “Don’t listen to them,” Tracy said, putting a hand on my arm. “They’re just teasing. Besides, from what I hear he’s totally back with Sarah Martin anyway.”

  Wait, what? I frowned before I could stop myself. Sarah Martin? Who was Sarah Martin?

  “That’s right!” Madison agreed. “Oh my God, I totally forgot. He even took her out on the boat last night—how romantic is that? She called me this morning from his place, looking for a ride home. Of course she was completely wrecked from being up all night—if you know what I mean.”

  The girls giggled conspiratorially. I just stood there, the Diet Coke souring in my stomach. What the hell were they talking about? Asher was with me the night before. We’d had dinner. We’d kissed under the stars.

  And then you went home, that pesky voice reminded me. And left him all by his lonesome.

  We are talking about Asher Anderson, aren’t we? as Rian had so helpfully pointed out.

  “Are you okay?” Madison asked. She gave me a skeptical look. “You’re looking awfully pale all of a sudden. Do you want me to go get your . . . coworker . . . for you?” She laughed.

  “I’m fine,” I managed to say. “Excuse me.”

  I pushed back on my barstool so quickly it almost toppled over. Then I wrestled my way through the gang of girls, feeling their amused eyes watching me as I forced myself to keep my steps calm and casual. My heart was pounding in my chest and my stomach was churning.

  He even took her out on the boat last night.

  The boat.

  The freaking boat.

  Oh God.

  I stopped, for a moment not sure what to do. Where I should go. My car was back at the station where I’d left it, so I couldn’t just leave. But how could I stay—how could I face Asher now, knowing what he’d done?

  She called me this morning from his place, looking for a ride home.

  We are talking about Asher Anderson, aren’t we?

  Finally I spotted the sign for the ladies’ lounge and I ran to it like a lifesaver. Thankfully no one was inside and so I collapsed into a stall, locking it behind me. I sucked in a huge breath, trying to calm my racing pulse. Trying to scold my aching heart.

  This was stupid. Why was I so upset? Asher didn’t owe me a thing. We were just coworkers. We weren’t even dating. He had every right to take another girl out on the boat. The boat I had refused, I might add, to board in the first place. He had every right to wine her, dine her, bed her—whatever. It was none of my business whatsoever. I had no hold over him. No rights. I didn’t even want any. I didn’t want him.

  Except I did. Somehow, against everything I had tried, I totally did.

  Goddamn it.

  I squared my shoulders. This was exactly why I needed to stop this in the first place. Why I shouldn’t be here at all. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know Asher’s reputation. Everyone knew the games he played. He had seduction down to a science—make the girl feel all special so she’d do whatever he wanted. Then, once satisfied, he’d move on to the next. What made me think I was any different than the rest of them? Because he took me to his favorite restaurant? Big freaking deal. That was probably part of his typical MO. To make the girl think he was different than your average douchey rich guy. That he was complicated. Sensitive.

  But at the end of the day, it wasn’t complicated at all. In fact, it was glaringly simple. I needed him more than he needed me. And I needed to remember that. And keep my head.

  But was it too late? Asher could fire me in an instant. For some stupid reason—hell, for no reason at all. If I refused to play his games now, if I rejected his advances from this point forward, would I lose everything I had gained?

  I frowned, forcing myself to firm my resolve. It didn’t matter. I could lose my job, but I refused to lose my self-respect. I would not let Asher play me anymore. I would not subject myself to his whims or let my heart get carried away.

  He might be the Joker. But I was no fool.

  I rose to my feet, squaring my jaw. Stepping out of the stall, I headed back into the golf club ready to hold my head up high. I would cross the floor and walk straight out that front door, never looking back. I could take an Uber home. No big deal.

  But I never made it that far. Because when I stepped out into the bathroom, I found none other than Asher himself, standing there, leaning against the vanity.

  Waiting for me.

  eighteen

  ASHER

  I watched Piper freeze, her eyes wide, totally a deer in headlights. Not surprising, I suppose. She certainly wouldn’t be expecting me to be standing in the ladies’ room.

  I had just been finishing up talking to my mother when I caught her out of the corner of my eye surrounded by those basic bitches—as Jess had dubbed them one night when I’d dragged her out here—and even from across the room I could guess they were telling tales out of school. The way Piper had stiffened. The way her eyes darted around the room, as if desperate for escape.

  I scowled. I should have never brought her here. Never left her alone for a second. Still, even I hadn’t realized how quickly the wolves would circle.

  “What are you doing in here?” she demanded. Her voice was raw, the words scraping from her throat. As if she was trying desperately not to cry. My heart squeezed in my chest and it was all I could do not to cross the floor, to pull her into my arms and not let her go.

  But I had a feeling, from the look on her face, she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

  “Sit,” I said instead, motioning to the couch at the far end of the bathroom. The ladies’ lounge, I guess you called it, though why anyone would lounge around in a public toilet was beyond me.

  She glanced at the door, as if trying to decide whether to make a run for it. Then her shoulders dropped. She walked over to the couch and slumped down. I nodded my approval then turned to the sink, grabbing a towel and wetting it. I handed it to her without a word.

  “Seriously?” she said, looking down at it. “You have real towels in the bathroom here? Like made of cloth instead of paper?”

  I made a face. “Only the best for the one percent.”

  The towel thing had actually been my mother’s idea. She’d led this huge campaign with the other ladies of the club about how we must all work to save the environment and how using washable towels prevented waste. Which was ridiculous, in my opinion, since the water used to wash them between uses probably added up to more waste than a little recyclable paper. But I’d long ago learned my lesson on trying to criticize my mom’s campaigns.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, dropping to my knees in front of her, searching her face with my eyes.

  She turned away. “I’m fine. I just didn’t feel so good. Maybe it was the spicy food.”

  I plucked the cloth from her hands and dabbed her face with it. This close I could see the hint of tears at the edges of her eyes, and anger rose inside of me.

  “Come on, Piper,” I said. “You were fine a few minutes ago. What did they say to you?”

  “I just want to go home, okay?” she said, her voice pleading now. “We had our fu
n. But we have to work tomorrow. I would like to be well rested.”

  “If that’s what you want, fine. I will take you home. But not until you tell me what happened.”

  And not until those girls are sorry for making you cry.

  She rose to her feet, crossing the bathroom until she was standing in front of the full-length mirror. “Look, you have every right to live your life the way you want to live it,” she said quietly. “I have no say in that. But I also need to do the same.” She turned to me, her face a mask of devastation. “And I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.”

  “Do what? All we did was have dinner.”

  “Come on, Asher. Don’t play me like one of those stupid girls out there. I’m not an idiot. I know where this is leading. And it’s not somewhere I want to go. Not with you anyway.”

  Her words hit me with the force of a ten-ton truck. I rose to my feet, stalking over to her. When I reached her, I grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to face me. “What did they tell you, Piper?” I demanded, my gaze bearing down on her now. “What the hell did they say?”

  Her face turned bright red, but to her credit, she didn’t look away this time. “They told me about Sarah,” she said.

  My grip tightened. Fuck.

  “Don’t blame them. It wasn’t their fault. I told them there was nothing between us so I’m sure they thought it was no big deal. And it isn’t a big deal, either,” she added. “You’re a single guy. You can sleep with whomever you want to. It’s none of my business.”

  I snapped my teeth together so hard it almost hurt. It was all I could do not to punch the mirror. “I didn’t sleep with Sarah,” I said.

  She practically rolled her eyes at that. Which sent a jolt of pain straight through me. Because of course she would believe them over me. Because that was the kind of guy she thought I was. The kind of guy who would double-down on his dates until he got one to spend the night.