Page 15 of All That She Needs

And I knew Dennis was right. This wasn't who I was. I hadn't reached where I was by being weak; I was strong and resilient. But with Aiden, I was so fucking helpless.

"What?" His eyes went wide as he talked with his mouth full. "Liam Banks. I googled him during lunch, and that man had an impressive rap sheet. And he's sohot." He emphasized thewordhotwith a deep sigh. "If there's any man that can be your equal, it's him."

"We're just friends."

"Asha." He rolled his eyes. "A guy doesn't make an elaborate lunch like this for just a friend. What time did he have to wake up this morning to prepare all this? And when did you even meet him? I'm so curious to get a glimpse of the man who's got everyone talking but remains so private that no one even knows what he looks like. And here he was, on the second day since he moved in, bringing you lunch."

"There will be nothing between Liam and me other than friends. Aiden came back to me. I'm not leaving him."

Dennis stopped eating immediately, setting his fork down with a heavy sigh. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, met mine. "You know I only want what's best for you."

"I know," I said, my voice soft. I trusted Dennis thoroughly, even before he knew about the mess with Aiden. He had proven himself to be loyal and dependable, able to read my thoughts and anticipate my needs before I even voiced them. He was also the most efficient assistant I'd ever had—smart, witty, and capable of keeping up with my fast pace without making me frustrated. Though he had a sharp tongue, he was not one for gossip, which was a relief. I remembered how HR persuaded me not to take him just because he looked different.

Sure, Dennis was smart, but so were the other candidates. What set him apart wasn't just his qualifications—it was his personality. He was applying for the position of Executive Assistant to the CEO, the highest paid and the most privileged out of all assistants, and he came to the interview wearing a bright purple suit and a red and yellow polka dot bowtie. His afro formed a perfect halo around his head, and thedark eyeliner highlighted his deep brown eyes. Dennis didn't care what anyone else thought. He was proud of who he was, and he would not change for anyone. It was as if he was saying, "If you want me, you're getting all of me—purple suit, bowtie, and everything." And I respected that.

"But letting him get away with this so easily isn't the solution," Dennis continued. His voice was solemn. He had been giving me speeches like this too many times, and even though he knew I would still stubbornly refuse to hear him, he tirelessly gave it to me, anyway. "He won't give you the respect and love you deserve and will blissfully live in denial, pretending that what he's done hasn't hurt you."

He was right again, but I had already made up my mind.

When I didn't reply to him, he sighed. "How about we go out for a drink tonight? You and me and Samuel. It's been a while since we hung out. You always loved Sam. He'll entertain you with his dorkiness. We will drink and laugh, and forget all about this fucked up situation you're in."

I contemplated it for a moment, but I declined. I wanted to be home just in case Aiden came home earlier. I was desperately holding on to the thought that last night wasn't intentional. He wasn't returning to the harsh, painful way he ignored me. That he really was truthful this time.

So, I went home at five-thirty and helped Sandy, our housekeeper, prepare dinner.

Then I waited for him. And waited. And waited. I wanted to call him or text him to ask when he was going to come home. But after months of being ignored, I stopped calling and texting him after hours. I was traumatized. My heart wouldn't be able to take it if he ignored me or rejected my calls again.

At 11:30 p.m., I finally gave up, went to bed, and cried myself to sleep.

Part 7: Aiden

I had just wrapped up my final meeting of the day, eager to head home and make up for last night's lateness. I was determined to spend some quality time with Asha, to show her she was my priority. As I made my way back to my office, thoughts of what I wanted to do with her filled my mind. I wanted us to retire early, lock the door of our bedroom and spend the entire night making love. I wanted to worship her like I used to. I wanted to make her submissive to me again. There were too many things I wanted to do to her; my head was spinning with all of it.

I quickened my pace.

But just as I was about to grab my things and leave, Sean, my new assistant, stepped in front of me, halting me in my tracks. "What?" I snapped, the irritation slipping out before I could stop it. I hadn't meant to sound so sharp, but I was eager to get home early for once.

Sean didn't flinch at my tone. He won points with me for that alone. "You have a guest," he said calmly. "She doesn't have an appointment, so I had her wait in the lobby."

I felt a flicker of annoyance at the unexpected interruption. "Her name?" I asked, already mentally calculating how quickly I could deal with this and still make it home on time.

"Vanessa Grey," Sean replied. "I believe she was your previous assistant."

The first thing I thought was that my mind was playing tricks on me. That couldn't be right. I was certain that I wasn't hearing him correctly, so I asked again, "Who?"

Sean compliantly repeated, oblivious to the hurricane whirling in my chest. "Vanessa Grey."

My heart gave a painful, wrenching thud when I realized I was hearing him correctly. In a matter of seconds, my mind raced through a million different thoughts—memories of heartbreak, sorrow, and the weeks I had spent relentlessly chasing her, begging her not to leave me. Then came the days after that, when I painstakingly tried to piece myself back together, forcing myself to move on.

And now she was here. In the same building, the same floor with me, and even though I hadn't seen her with my own eyes yet, I already felt as if everything I had lost, everything that had been so painfully ripped away, was suddenly within reach again—right there, waiting for me to reclaim it. The thought was intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

I wasn't sure if I would be strong enough to see her again. It was so difficult to get to where I was today, where I wasn't mourning her, remembering her, missing her, every second of the day. I was terrified that if I had just one minute in her presence, all my effort would be in vain, and I'd be back kneeling in front of her, sobbing at her feet, pleading for her mercy.

Vanessa showing up unannounced felt like a ghost from the past suddenly materializing in my present. Whatever she wanted, it couldn't be simple, and I had a feeling this unexpected visit was about to complicate things more than I could handle.

"Send her to my office," I heard myself say as I stomped my way back to my office, faintly hearing Sean say that he'd be heading home after he sent her in.

I chose to sit behind my desk, deliberately putting that solid, imposing barrier between us. I didn't trust myself to sit with her in the more casual seating area or even at the conference table where the distance felt too small, too intimate. I needed something substantial between us—something to keep my hands from betraying me, from reaching out to her in a moment of weakness, desperate to touch her.

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