The Billionaire's Offer

Chapter 17

Asher

Alone in my office, the glow of the computer screen casts a soft light on the spreadsheets before me.

Despite my best attempts to lose myself in the numbers, thoughts of Emma infiltrate every corner of my mind. The quarterly reports are nothing but a blurry backdrop to the vivid images of her accusing eyes filled with mistrust.

Guilt and frustration churn within me like a storm. I can't shake off the regret of walking out on her yesterday. It was a rash move, a knee-jerk reaction fueled by a whirlwind of hurt and confusion.

Yet, in the chaos, I had convinced myself that taking a step back was necessary to prevent irreversible damage from words spoken in the heat of the moment.

Now, I'm not sure I made the right decision.

People warned me about the pressures that would accompany Max's plan. The watchful eyes of competitors, the endless working hours, the invasion of privacy, and the constant speculation about our lives were all expected.

I just had no idea how the press would feast on every crumb of our personal life, how they'd be the ones building an edge between Emma and me.

Grabbing my phone, my heart tugs at the picture on the lock screen-a selfie of Emma and me when I surprised her with the penthouse. She's looking at the camera with a big smile, her eyes shining with happiness. Gorgeous.

Fuck! I'd do anything to go back to that day.

Everyone looking at the photo would see how far gone I am with this woman. While she's looking at the camera I'm looking at her with a whipped smile on my face.

How could she insinuate I'd sleep with another woman when I'm so in love with her?

The ache of her distrust clings to me, and I can't shake the feeling that I'm teetering on the edge with her. If I were in her shoes, I'd want an explanation too. But I'd never assume she'd cheat on me.

The knot in my chest tightens at the assumption that I would do that to her. Especially after she lectured me about trust when I expressed my discomfort with her talking to her ex.

Letting out a frustrated breath, I know I'll need to be the one to reach out first, so I send her a text.

ME: "Sorry for leaving the way I did yesterday. Can we talk, please?"

Just as I hit send, my secretary's voice erupts from the phone's speaker. "Mr. Sullivan," Parker says. "There's a Clare Stuart in the lobby asking for you. She's asking if you're free?"

My mind swirls with conflicting emotions as Clare's name echoes through my office, but curiosity gets the best of me.

"Ask her to come up, please," I tell him.

In a few minutes, Clare strides into my office. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and I quickly stand up to greet her.

"Clare," I say, motioning for her to take a seat on the lounging couch.

"Hey, you." She pulls me into a hug. "Sorry for dropping by unannounced. It didn't hit me until I got here that you're this big-shot CEO now."

I manage a half-smile. "Still getting used to it myself."

She settles into the couch, her eyes holding a trace of familiarity that makes me pause. "I was passing by and thought I'd drop these off," she says, producing two tickets from her purse. "There's a James Bennett's exposition going on this weekend. I have a last-minute business trip, so I can't make it. You should take Emma."