Page 19 of Defending What's Mine

9

Asher

I’m standing at the bottom of the grand staircase, hands stuffed into my pockets, trying to look composed. But the truth is, I’m anything but. Tonight’s going to be a performance, and I need to bring my A-game. That’s what I tell myself, at least. But then my eyes drift to the top of the stairs, and all coherent thought goes straight out the window.

Charlotte.

She’s... stunning. That’s the only word that comes close to doing her justice. She’s wearing a midnight-blue dress that hugs her curves in all the right places, with a neckline that’s classy but just daring enough to draw the eye. The fabric catches the light as she moves, shimmering faintly, and her hair is swept up, exposing the elegant curve of her neck.

For a moment, I forget to breathe. She’s like a vision from a dream I didn’t even know I had.

Then she looks at me, and I swear the air shifts. Her gaze meets mine, and for a second, the world narrows to just the two of us.I can tell she sees me watching her, and a faint blush creeps up her neck, making her look even more stunning. Damn. I need to get it together.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, I step forward, offering my arm. “You look...” I pause, searching for the right word. “Incredible.”

Her lips curve into a small, an almost shy smile. “Thank you.”

Before I can say more, the blonde woman at her side clears her throat, looking at me with an amused glint in her eye. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Charlotte?” I already know who she is when Dean handed me the file before I took this assignment. I know everyone Charlotte is close to, and Melanie is her closest friend.

“Right,” Charlotte says quickly, snapping out of whatever spell we’ve both been under. “Asher, this is Melanie, my best friend. Melanie, this is Asher... my fiancé.”

Melanie’s grin widens as she extends her hand. “Wow. Charlotte sure knows how to pick them.”

I take her hand, giving her a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Melanie says, her gaze flicking between Charlotte and me. “So, is he always this charming, or is that just for tonight?”

Charlotte rolls her eyes, her cheeks turning pink. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

Charlotte threads her arm through mine, small hand tightening just enough for me to register her pulse rate—faster than baseline. As we move down the corridor, I run autopilot checks: chandeliers overhead (no direct drop risk), two servers staginghors d’oeuvres outside the dining hall (hands empty, threat level low), Wade’s voice carrying beyond the double doors (location confirmed, far end of table).

Her grip ratchets another notch as we approach the threshold. I angle my head, keeping my tone pitched for her ear only. “Breathe. Visuals and body language will sell the story. Words are secondary.”

She gives me the side-eye, tension creasing her brow. “You can guarantee that?”

“Because,” I say, halting us in the alcove just shy of the entrance, “we’re about to set the narrative before anyone else writes it.”

I rotate, capturing her free hand. She’s surprised, but then the flicker of uncertainty crosses her features and she tries to mask it. I don’t allow retreat. “Trust the op,” I murmur. Then I close the remaining distance, operational objective clear: create one indelible image that turns every potential skeptic inside that room into a believer.

Melanie opens the door to enter the dining area, but Charlotte and I hang back, our eyes locked onto one another.

The moment our lips meet, it’s like the world stops spinning. Her lips are soft and warm, and the faint taste of her gloss—something sweet and citrusy—lingers on my tongue. It’s supposed to be just for show, but the second she responds, tilting her head slightly, I lose the thread of the act. My hand moves to her waist, pulling her closer, and I feel her fingers tighten against my chest.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. There’s no dining hall, no audience waiting for us, no Wadelurking in the background. Just her. Her scent, her warmth, her quiet little gasp as I angle my mouth against hers.

When I finally pull back, it’s with more reluctance than I’d like to admit. Her eyes are still closed, her lips slightly parted, and she looks completely shell-shocked. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing uneven, and for a split second, I think about kissing her again. But then her eyes flutter open, and the spell breaks.

“W-what was that?” she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper.

I shrug, trying to play it cool despite the way my heart is racing. “Just selling the story.”

She blinks, her brows furrowing. “Selling the story? That felt...”

“Convincing?” I offer, as a hint of a smirk tugs at my lips.

She narrows her eyes, her blush deepening. “A littletooconvincing, but yes, well done.”

“Well done?” I smirk. This woman is adorable.

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