Page 54 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
My first instinct is outrage.Who is he to tell me what to do? I've been working on this case for months!
"So we're all after the same target," I say as Asher's presence invades my personal space, making my every nerve tingle with awareness of his proximity.
Asher's thumbs brush my cheekbones in a gesture too tender to be accidental. The contrast between his commandingwords and gentle touch sends confusing signals through my body.
"Not 'we'," he corrects, voice dropping to a whisper as he leans closer, reducing the space between us until I can feel the heat radiating from his chest. "You're staying here where it's safe."
His words are soft, but the steel underneath them leaves no room for argument. My leg stops bouncing for the first time since we started the call, all my focus narrowing to the man looming over me, claiming my safety as his territory.
fifteen
Vanessa
Afternoon light creeps across Asher's formerly pristine living room. Three laptops form my chaotic command center in a half-circle around me, each screen displaying different fragments of offshore banking transactions.
My fingers fly across the keyboards as I switch between them, following money trails that vanish and reappear under different shell companies.
"Two-point-three million transferred to Cayman account ending in 4721, then split into seventeen smaller transactions." I mutter, leg bouncing rhythmically against the coffee table. The constant movement helps me think as connections form in my mind.
Asher's presence fills the kitchen doorway before I actually see him. That quiet, controlled energy hovering there, watching me. His gaze lands heavy on my shoulders, making my skin tingle with awareness, but I can't break concentration now.
"You need to eat." His deep voice cuts through my calculations, flat and non-negotiable.
I wave him off without looking up. "I'll eat when I finish tracing these offshore accounts."
My fingers drum rapidly against the trackpad, highlighting a suspicious transfer pattern. "Almost got it..."
Asher moves across the room toward me. He prepared food. Something that smells incredible, but food has to wait. This pattern is too important, too fragile to abandon.
"The timestamps match the dates when three women disappeared after signing with Vertex," I explain, though I'm not sure if I'm talking to Asher or myself. "If I can just..."
The screen goes black as Asher closes the laptop lid, his hand remaining firmly pressed on top of it.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I explode, jumping to my feet. The sudden movement sends a stack of financial documents sliding to the floor. "I was in the middle of..."
"Burning yourself out." Asher's voice stays calm compared to my outburst. "You didn't sleep more than three hours. Your calculations will suffer."
"My calculations are fine." Heat rushes to my face as I try to pry his hand off my laptop. It's like trying to move a marble statue. "Not all of us need military-prescribed eight hours to function."
His dark eyes sweep over the chaos I created. Empty coffee mugs, scattered paperwork, three different mechanical keyboards arranged in front of me. Something in his expression shifts from irritation to something harder to read.
"The laptops will still be here after you eat." The rigid set of his shoulders betrays his frustration. "Your body needs fuel to maintain this pace."
"My body needs to find whoever killed Jenny." My voice cracks. "And your hands need to get off my laptop before I hack into your bank account and donate everything to charity."
The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth tells me he's almost amused. Almost.
I drop my hands, swiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Exhaustion makes them burn, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
"Good luck with that, little bunny." Asher uses that ridiculous nickname that makes my skin flush. "My accounts have better security than most government agencies."
"Don't underestimate what I can do with proper motivation." I snap, stalking toward the kitchen to escape his towering presence. "And don't call me that."
My hip catches the edge of the island as I circle around it, putting the granite barrier between us. The barstool scrapes across the hardwood floor as I bump into it.
Asher doesn't follow me around the island. He walks deeper into his kitchen, and I hear cabinet doors opening, plates clinking. I take advantage of his distraction to pull out my phone, trying to access my laptop remotely.
"Going to need more time than that to trick me." Asher calls out without turning around.
