Page 127 of Forbidden Hearts

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I roll my eyes. He can’t be serious. “Asher—” I nearly choke on his name. “You can’t ask me to move in. This is too much too fast. We can’t go from zero to a thousand overnight.”

“Why? I’m almost forty years old, and I have never once asked a woman to live with me. The fact that I didn’t hesitate to ask you, says something. I want you here, in my home, in my bed, and in my life every day.”

I shake my head, trying to wrap my brain around it. “I think we have to go slow—for Olivia.”

He sighs heavily, running his hands through his dark brown hair. “I don’t think Olivia will care. She loves you.”

“Yes, she does, but . . . she needs time to absorb that we’re dating before she finds out I’m pregnant and moving in with you. No, it’s a lot for her to take in.”

“If you really think she needs that, then fine, but it doesn’t change my answer to your question. I want you here.”

“I do think she needs time, and honestly, I need it.”

This relationship was never supposed to be. We were meant to be fun, and somewhere along the way, I fell in love.

“Why do you need it?”

“Because we’ve been doing this relationship behind closed doors. Sure, we’ve spent months together.” I move, taking his beautiful face in my hands. “We’ve touched, kissed, loved, and no one knew. To us, it makes sense for me to move in with you. But, to the rest of the world, you’re the grumpy jerk who thinks I’m a mess.” He grins, and I rub his lips before dropping my hands. “Which I am proving to be quite an accurate description of myself. Plus, I have to deal with Jonathan. I need to get him to sign his rights away or . . . I don’t even know. But he’s married and has a kid already, I can’t imagine he’ll fight me since he wants me to get rid of the baby anyway.”

“Jonathan?” he asks.

“The father—or sperm donor if we call him that. My professor’s name was Jonathan and . . .” I stop talking when I see Asher’s face.

“What does Jonathan teach?” he asks with his jaw clenched.

“Philosophy.”

“Is he old?”

I shake my head. “No, he was almost forty. Apparently, I have a type.”

“What’s his last name?” His voice is like ice cracking underfoot. My stomach drops, and I don’t know why.

“Loa.” As soon as I say the name, he tosses the sheets off and climbs out of bed. I swear I can see the anger rolling off him in waves. “Asher? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. He just starts putting his clothes on. I scramble off the bed, wrapping myself in the sheet.

“Where are you going?” I ask him, but again, he ignores me. He’s now fully dressed, and reaching into his side drawer, he pops open his safe. “Asher! What the hell are you doing?”

His eyes finally find mine, and the look on his face causes me to freeze. I’ve seen rage before, and this exceeds that. “Stay here with Olivia.”

No, no way. I move to him, grabbing his arm. “Stop! Why are you so mad?”

“I’m doing what I should’ve done years ago. I’m going to kill him.”

My heart is pounding as I try to understand what’s going on. “What are you talking about?”

Asher pulls his arm from my grasp and slams his hand on the wall. “Fuck!” He doesn’t look at me as he repeats the gesture. “I’m going. Stay here.”

“Please don’t leave like this. Please talk to me.” He practically tears the door open, and I chase after him, still wearing only a bed sheet. “Asher!”

When he gets to the end of the hallway, he pauses. “Call Brynn. Tell her everything, and you’ll understand.”

Then he leaves me, and I feel sick.

* * *

I called, texted, and waited for him to return for the last hour. When it was clear he wouldn’t, I called his sister, asking her to come over right away.