Page 90 of Ruthless Heir

As Asher pours it into my glass, sadness hits me that we’ve reached another natural pause where we should say goodnight.

It’s almost 3 a.m. Now it’s super late.

He has an early start and today is my first day at work. Weshouldgo to bed. I just don’t want to yet. The time went by too quickly.

Asher hands me my glass and looks at me as if he knows what I’m thinking. “You tired yet?”

“No.” I smile back at him. “Are you?”

“I’m not but I don’t think it’s a good idea to get you drunk mere hours before your first day on the job.”

“I can handle a few more.” I cock my head, gesturing to the bar. “I haven’t reached my limit yet.”

“Me neither.” That sexy half grin returns. “How about we make some cocktails then head to bed?”

Thank God. “Yes. I want to do that.”

“Alright, come over to the bar with me.” He takes my hand and tugs me to follow.

Like an obedient servant destined to follow him anywhere and do whatever he says, I go.

“What do you like?” He goes behind the bar and grabs a bottle of vodka.

“Anything with fruit and vodka.”

“Perfect.”

“Have you got fruit up here for cocktails?” I glance at the mini fridge.

“I do. When I’m working from home—which happens quite often—I love having cocktails. I like making them too. So Olga makes sure I have what I need.”

He opens the fridge and shows me the little pot of fresh fruit and juices ready to go.

“Olga is amazing.” I giggle, looking over the fruit.

“She certainly is.”

Asher sets out the fruit, the juices and an assortment of alcohol on the counter. Then he grabs two coupe glasses from the cupboard. “Let’s see who can mix the best cocktail.” Asher cocks his head with a challenge in his eyes.

“Game on. You first.”

“You sure?”

“Hmmm hmm.”

“Alright then Miss Bartender.”

Within minutes he shakes up a cocktail using a jigger of bright green liqueur that he says is made by Carhusian monks.

“Wow, this is great.” I’m impressed. The start of a buzz also zings through my mind, a signal that I’m nearly at my limit. “What is it?”

“The Asher special. Do you remember that time when Hunter, Luc and I got stranded in Ibiza?”

My shoulders sag. “No. I don’t remember.”

He touches my cheek and his fingers warm my skin. “It’s okay. It was just a funny story that sparked a running joke for years. We all had to work at a bar. That’s how I learned how to make cocktails.”

“Really? What happened?”

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