The air in the room was thick, heavy with the scent of his expensive cologne and the salt from the ocean crashing below. My heart was hammering against my ribs, not out of fear, but from a dizzying, traitorous memory of the way he used to look at me before the world fell apart.
"You... you can't just say that," I finally managed to whisper, though my voice lacked its usual surgical edge. I put my hands against his chest to push him back, but it was like trying to move a mountain. His heart was steady under my palms—a slow, rhythmic thud that mocked my own racing pulse.
"I can say it because it's the truth," Asher murmured. He didn't grab me; he didn't have to. His presence was enough to pin me in place, the heat radiating from his body seeping through the thin silk of my robe. "The death certificate was for the world, Chloe. Not for us. In the eyes of the law, and in the eyes of the Church, you never stopped being mine."
"I stopped being yours the moment you chose to tag me as nothing less than a breeding vessel, Asher Reed!" I found my voice then, the anger finally burning through the fog of his attraction. I shoved him with everything I had, and this time, he allowed himself to step back an inch. "At that moment, I killed every memory and every feeling that made me yours! You turned me into a ghost long before you faked your own death."
Asher's expression didn't soften, but a flicker of something passed through his blue eyes—regret, perhaps? Or just the realization that the woman standing before him wasn't the compliant girl he'd married.
"I'm sorry about that, Chloe," he said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register. "I was blinded by my ego back then. I was too proud to admit what I truly felt for you." Then, the shadow of a smirk returned, arrogant and infuriating. "But are you really sure you killed every memory of us? Because a moment ago, your eyes and your body were saying something very different."
He chuckled, a dark, low sound that vibrated in the small space between us.
"You must be out of your mind, Asher. You know what? You can have the room to yourself. I will sleep in my son's room."
I turned to walk past him, desperate to reach the connecting door and the safety of Leo's presence, but he took me by surprise. His hand shot out, catching me by the waist and pulling me back until we were standing nose to nose. My breath hitched. I could perceive the sharp tang of the whiskey he had been drinking on his breath, mixed with that familiar, intoxicating scent of sandalwood.
For a heartbeat, I was certain he was going to kiss me. My body braced for it, my lips parting in a way that made me despise my own lack of control.
"I know you are mad at me, Chloe. I know you'd probably kill me if I gave you the chance," he whispered. His voice was masked with something unreadable—guilt, pain, love, or pure lust? It was a cocktail of emotions that I wasn't ready to dissect. "Let me make things right, Chloe. Let me show you that the man who stands here today isn't the man who treated you like a contract."
"Let go of me this instant!" I managed to snap, though the command felt weak even to my own ears. I tried to wiggle away, but his grip was like iron, anchoring me to the spot.
Asher's expression tightened. He stared at me for a long moment, searching my face for a sign of surrender that I refused to give. Finally, he exhaled a sharp breath and released me so abruptly I nearly stumbled.
"Fine. You can have the room to yourself, Chloe," he said, turning toward the balcony doors as if he couldn't stand to look at me for another second. He paused, his hand on the frame, and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, by the way... you still look great in that robe. Just like the first night you wore it."
He didn't wait for my retort. He stepped out into the cold night air, leaving me alone in the massive, charcoal-tinted suite.
I stood there for a long time, my skin still tingling where his hands had been. I looked at the bed—the silk canopy, the expensive linens—and realized I couldn't move. I wanted to go to Leo, but my legs felt like lead.
I walked over to the vanity and caught my reflection. My cheeks were flushed, and my eyes were bright with a mix of fury and something I refused to name. I was a surgeon. I was a mother. I was a survivor. But as I looked at the luxury surrounding me, I realized that Asher Reed hadn't just brought me to a sanctuary. He had brought me to a battlefield where the only enemy I couldn't cut out with a scalpel was my own heart.
I walked to the door and locked it, but the click of the bolt felt hollow. I could lock him out of the room, but I couldn't lock him out of my head. Tomorrow, I would find Marcus. Tomorrow, I would get the truth about the hospital shootout. But tonight, I would sleep in a bed that still smelled of the man I was supposed to hate.
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