Page 13 of Asher

I play the words over again in my head as he watches me, no apology in his expression despite his words—and believe me, I’m looking hard for it. Instead, there’s a combination of expectation and demand.

That just makes me mad.

“I beg your fucking pardon?” Whoops, there’s that f-word again. Somehow, I’m okay with it, since my one-night stand who I never expected to see again is asking me to pretend to be his boyfriend… and his family seems to think I already am. The family I need to impress with my professionalism and capability.

“It’s complicated. Really complicated. But if you pretend to be my boyfriend while you’re here, I’ll… I’ll give you whatever you want. Pay any rate you want.”

A thrill of… something runs through me. Surely not excitement. No, it’s offense. I’m offended by his implication that I can be bought.

Not excited.

“I’m an anthropologist, not an escort,” I hiss. “Why—whywould you even ask this?”

He shrugs. “It was worth a shot?”

I stare at him. “It was…” Spinning on my heel, I head for the door, but he puts on a burst of speed and gets there before me, blocking it.

“Hear me out, please. I know this is weird, but… well, you’ve met my grandmother, right? Have you talked to her for more than two minutes?”

“Of course I have,” I snap. “She’s called me thirty times in the past three days.”

“So you get it, then. You know how… determined she can be once she fixates on an idea.”

I give him my best withering glare. “I very much doubt Damaris fixated on the idea of me being your boyfriend without even knowing that your supposed boyfriend was me!” I don’t even think that sentence makes sense, but he gets the idea.

“That’s really bad luck and stupid coincidence,” he admits. “Give me two minutes of your time, and I’ll explain.”

Folding my arms across my chest, I wait. Mostly because I’m super curious. Not because standing this close to him and inhaling his amazing scent is stirring memories of the other day and just how well we fit in bed.

“My grandmother is 973,” he begins. “She’s lived a long and full life, and she loves nothing more than her family.”

I thaw somewhat. As scary as Damaris is, I can’t deny that all her questions and concerns are based around doing the best for this village—including her family.

“She’s decided now that she wants to see a new generation before she goes to the spiritual plane. She’s already started a campaign of nagging my two cousins who have partners, but she also thinks the odds will be better if more people are trying… so to speak. And since I’m the oldest unattached grandchild, I’m the one she’s putting the most pressure on to find someone special and embark on a life of domestic bliss and babies.”

My arms fall away from my chest, but the stiffness of my posture remains. “Your grandmother wants you to meet someone and be happy, so you told her you were dating me?”

“No! I mean… yes.” He frowns, and I resist the urge to step back. I don’t know him all that well, but we’ve done unspeakable things to each other’s bodies, and his whole family is in the next room. I’m fairly sure he’s not going to hurt me, no matter how scary that frown is.

Unless that story about Damaris’s coworker is true and Asher takes after his grandmother.

Pushing that lovely thought aside, I raise a brow and wait for him to elaborate.

“It’s not just that she wants me to meet someone. She’s actively matchmaking. She invites people over when I’m here and tells me to pick one. The children and grandchildren of her friends have all suddenly started visiting Zurich and need me to show them around or keep them company. A few months back, one of them ‘won’ a Mediterranean cruise for two and needed ‘a friend’ to go with them. I’d never met this person in my life, and it was a couples’ cruise!”

I can’t help it: my lips twitch. He doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in his own drama.

“And then I got home yesterday, and she told me that she had amathematicalplan to find me someone. She wanted me to put together a list of criteria so she could find people that fit and take turns inviting them to meet me until I found ‘the one,’ like some stupid reality show that everyone knows is fake. How is that mathematical?” He sounds outraged as he says “mathematical,” making me wonder if his distress is actually because of the matchmaking or just deep offense on behalf of the concept of mathematics. Maybe both. Finance people are weird that way. “Anyway, I was panicking, but Ididn’ttell her I had a boyfriend.”

He didn’t? “So why does she think you do? And why does she think it’s me?”

CHAPTERSIX

Asher

“It’s Micah’s fault,”I declare, throwing my cousin under the bus without an ounce of regret.

“Who’s Micah?” he asks, looking confused in that exaggerated way non-demons do. It’s adorable on his face, which I’m very fond of after seeing it contorted in ecstasy. Not to mention, the memory of his soft, puffy lips stretched around my cock is one I’ll treasure for a long time. He gave me the hottest night—and day—I can remember in all my hundred and ninety-three years.

---