Reckless Abandon(44)

How can I be such an idiot?

He plays the cello and the piano. The music room is his. That’s why he was never worried about Devon.

I’m not an idiot, I’m a moron.

My hands fall over my head at the thought of him playing me like that. Did he want me to believe he was the lowly boathand?

I bet his parents aren’t even dead. He was never poor growing up. He’s a rich * who made up a depressing story about his broken life so I’d fall like a ton of bricks. And I did.

I fell.

And I felt.

This time it’s my turn to be sick.

I run into the bathroom and throw up. I opened up to him. Told him my secrets, my fears. For months I’ve been too numb to talk about anything. Not Parker, not the accident, not my hand, and certainly not Luke. In three days I talked about all of it.

Did I open up to my very expensive psychiatrist? NO.

Did I open up to my caring family who have done nothing but dote on me while I was sick in the head? NO.

Did I open up to a psychopath con artist who creates false lives to lure women into his web of lies?

Hurl.

“Don’t do this. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Leah’s hand rubs my back this time. “I shouldn’t have said anything. We’re leaving here soon. It won’t make a difference who your Italian hookup was. Emma, please, don’t make yourself sick over this.”

Leah’s voice is a plea. A sad one. One I’ve heard before.

I lift my head and wipe my mouth, taking the same routine Leah did before. After my teeth are brushed I walk over to the bed and cross my legs. The iPad is still on the bed but I push it to the side, thankful the screen is black.

I promised myself I wouldn’t be this girl. The girl who makes everyone worry. I’m not her anymore. I can go fast now. I can say Luke’s name. And I can feel the music again.

The night Parker dumped me, Luke said something I’ll never forget. “Never let a man believe he broke you, because a diamond can not be destroyed.” I agreed with him. It’s probably why I was able to get over Parker so easily. It is also why I’ll be able to forget Asher.

Leah is sitting next to me, waiting for me to say something, make a move. Today is Luke’s birthday. We planned on celebrating it together and that is exactly what we’ll do. I’ll worry about this Alexander Asher nonsense tomorrow. Today is about me and Leah.

“Get dressed. We’re going out.”



I toss and turn all night.

Leah and I went out to dinner but took it easy on the alcohol. Her stomach was still too sensitive and my heart was too fragile. We didn’t talk about Asher. Instead we spoke about Luke. Leah was so happy to be able to mention him around me and tell stories without my falling apart. Hearing her talk about him reminded me how close the two of them were too. I was a fool to think his death only affected me.

When we get back to the room, Leah collapses on the bed, exhausted from a day of being sick. My mind is revving a million thoughts a second. I can’t sleep and I don’t even try. Instead, I hop on Leah’s iPad and google Alexander Asher.

Just as she said, there he is. Looking gorgeous. But instead of the guy I’ve grown to know, on the screen is a man of intimidating power. Every article is of businesses he’s developed, bought, or flipped. He went to Columbia University, confirmation he’s as brilliant as I knew he was. He owns three restaurants, a tech start-up, a media house . . .

And that doesn’t count the business he inherited when his grandfather passed away. That’s at least one portion of the story he is telling the truth about. His grandfather was Edward Asher, a Scottish billionaire and real estate developer who was a big deal in New York City.

I try looking up Asher’s parents, but nothing comes up. There are a few mentions of his mother. She was a very talented young woman, performing at Julliard and winning awards for her piano playing. But after the age of twenty, she vanishes. It’s as if she doesn’t exist.

One article mentions Asher’s career highlights and a charitable concert event he was funding. Of the four pages long article, it merely mentions his family, stating his mother died in a car accident and his grandfather took him in. The article makes his grandfather seem like a really good guy. Not the monster Asher alluded to.

I look over to the ground beneath the bed and see the magazine sitting on the floor. New York Magazine. On the cover is Alexander Asher standing on top of a tall building in Manhattan above the city he controls. The headline reads: Asher. The new face of an empire. I don’t even have the heart to open it up.

Something doesn’t feel right. Why would he lie to me? He is guarded and complex. He wanted to know if he could trust me. I thought I gave him every reason to believe I was trustworthy. I thought I had his trust.

I guess I didn’t have enough of it to have him tell me the truth.

I pop up from my spot of the sofa and walk to the window. The sun is coming up. My body is too antsy to sit back and wait for word from him. I need to see him now. If this is all a misunderstanding, then I need to hear it from him. And if he is a player, then I need him to tell me to my face.

Opening the sliding glass door, I peer out into the marina. Even if I have to hire a boat to take me to him, I will. Walking back to the room, I go into Leah’s suitcase and take out the binoculars. Walking them back outside, I raise them to my eyes and look for his boat.