The Billionaire's Offer

Chapter 3

Asher

Standing like a teenager at Emma's doorstep, a mix of nostalgia and nervousness washes over me. Memories of the short time we spent together as a couple come flooding back, and I let out a deep breath to steady myself.

Running my fingers through my hair, I keep thinking this will not end well. I have no idea what is going on with my life right now, and seeing her after all these years messed with me in ways I'm not ready to analyze.

Yeah, I feel bad about how I treated her and I need to apologize. But I also can't ignore the fact that it only took one look at her to know how she still affects me.

After what feels like ages, the door opens revealing Emma with a puzzled expression. "Asher?" she says as if she is expecting someone else.

I hold out two large coffees as a peace offering, hoping to break the ice. "Can I come in?"

She crosses her arms over her chest, giving me a skeptical look. "Did Max put you up to this? Did he tell you to come and apologize?"

Meeting her gaze, I hand her a coffee. "I came because I was an ass and I shouldn't have treated you poorly. So, I'm sorry."

She takes a sip of her coffee and rolls her eyes. "This is my favorite."

"I know..." I meet her gaze, my heart tightening as I see a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. "Hell broke loose after you left yesterday, and I swear I never saw Max so pissed."

"Well, I can't blame him." She keeps her eyes on me.

"Right..." I nod. "I' shouldn't have treated you like that. I'm sorry."

"I wouldn't accept that money he offered if it wasn't..." she starts, but I cut her off gently.

"That's none of my business. You don't need to explain anything," I say, and she nods, opening the door wider to invite me in.

Part of me considers bailing, knowing this could end in more heartache. But hell, there's something inside me that's drawn to her. Call it masochism or just plain stupidity, but in a second, I'm inside her living room.

"Nice place." I look around, impressed. It's like she found her own sanctuary amid the bustling city chaos. The soft, welcoming colors and the scent of sweet-scented candles create a warm atmosphere that is undeniably inviting. The rustic charm of the wooden accents has an interesting appeal, reflecting her personality in a way I've always remembered.

"Thanks," she says after a second. "I moved here last year."

"What happened to your old place?" I turn to her, and she looks down.

"I was looking for a change of scenery," she murmurs as she leads me further inside.

My gaze is immediately drawn to the bookshelves gracing the walls, lined with books of various genres. The sight brings a smile to my face as I remember our shared love for literature.

Scanning the books, a black-and-white photo of our hands, taken a long time ago, catches my attention. It's neatly displayed on a shelf, and I'm amazed she still has it.

Curious, I walk over to it, feeling a rush of fond memories resurfacing. "I can't believe you still have this," I say, turning to her.

"Yeah..." she bites her lower lip, a nervous habit since she was a young girl and one that has always driven me crazy with the need to kiss her.

Taking a deep breath, I bring my eyes back to the photo. I remember I took it right after kissing her for the first time. We had just turned twenty-one and had run into each other in the city one evening.