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I frown. “What?”
“I like when you call me that.”
“Mr. Gerhard?”
There’s that growly moan again, sparking fire in my veins. “Yeah. That.”
“Focus, Asher,” I snap. “I’m not calling you about…you know.” Ugh, am I the least smooth person in the universe? I think I must be. I suck in a breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m calling because I might be able to help your business interests in Nord, after all. I have a proposition for you.”
A pause. Asher clears his throat, and his voice is cooler when he answers. “Of course, Your Majesty. I’m willing to hear your proposal.”
How does he somehow have control over this situation? I know he didn’t stage the protests. I know I have the authority between us—but still, I feel like I’m asking him for permission. It irks me and…excites me. Heat buds in my stomach, and I resist the urge to squirm in my seat. “Come to the palace tomorrow. I’ll have Frederick arrange an appointment with you.” I hang up the phone before Asher can say something else that will surely knock me off balance. My heart stutters as I close my eyes. I massage my temples, letting out a long sigh.
This idea, this plan…it’s the right thing to do. My people need me to think about something other than the heat moving lower in my abdomen. Asher Gerhard came to Nord for a reason, and whether or not part of it was to see me, it’s irrelevant now. I need his help—and his business.
My fingers drift to my lips, and I can almost taste Asher’s kiss. If I go through with my plan tomorrow, and he accepts, it’ll be the end of anything more between us. We’ll be professionals, and our relationship will be nothing like it was at Prince Gabriel’s wedding.
But for my people, for Nord, I’ll give anything up. Even Asher.
10
Asher
I’m not a nervous person. Business deals are where I feel most comfortable, but when the car slides through the tall gates leading to Stirling Castle, I have to admit I feel a tremor in my gut.
I wasn’t expecting a call from the castle so soon after Penelope left my office. I wasn’t expecting a call from her at all, if I’m honest. There’s something between us, but when a woman slaps you twice within the space of five minutes, that sends a certain message.
Not that I minded.
Penelope said something about a business meeting. She told me she would let me expand my business in Nord, but what does that mean, exactly? When she left my office, she seemed completely focused on not letting me do business here.
There’s something underneath my nerves, too. The buzz of excitement, warm and spicy. It tastes sweet on the tip of my tongue.
It’s her—the Queen. Penelope. The thought of seeing her again, of being in the same room as her, watching her lips move every time she talks, hearing her call me Asher or Mr. Gerhard or asshole or whatever other name she wants to throw at me…I’ll take it all and beg for more.
As a staff member opens the door for me and gives me a low bow, I’m not thinking about a business deal or being the successor in my father’s company. I’m not thinking about serving on the board or making millions for the man who told me I looked like a monster. I’m not thinking about Logan, or how he doesn’t deserve to inherit Father’s company instead of me.
I’m thinking about Penelope and the way she holds her head high. How regal she looks in everything she does. How badly I want to wrap my arms around her again, or drop to my knees in front of her and pledge my life to her.
As my steps resonate on the polished floor, I try to regain control over my racing heart. I’m supposed to be the man who brings in business. The man who sees opportunities where there were none before, then exploits them. Right now, I feel more like a hormonal teen going to see his first crush.
“This way, sir,” a man in his thirties says. He’s wearing a crisp, black uniform, his hair gelled back. His mustache is so thick it would make Burt Reynolds jealous.
“Can I ask you a question?” I say as we walk down the castle hallway, nothing but old paintings and statuesque guards to keep us company.
“Of course, sir.” The man inclines his head but doesn’t look back at me.
“Do you carry a comb around for your mustache? Or does it just naturally lie so perfectly?”
He bristles, every proper bone in his body recoiling at my question. I fight to hide my grin. He sweeps a hand toward a door to the right of us, and I nod.
When I step through the door, I’m led down a slightly narrower hallway. Smaller, but still opulent. White marble floors with gray and black veins, expensive paintings, chandeliers dripping with crystals. Every inch of this place has crown molding and intricate finishes. The paint is a delicate white color, with accents of red and purple. We pass a living room with walls painted blue—the exact blue of Penelope’s eyes.
Tension builds in the pit of my stomach. I can almost sense her. The Queen. She’s close. I can see it in the way the staff members stand up straighter. The buzz of excitement in the air. The unnerving silence, where all I can hear are my footsteps and the thumping of my own heart.
Stopping in front of a timber-paneled door, I wait for my guide to knock. He raps on the door twice and waits for a voice to come through from the other side.
My breath catches. The door opens, and she’s there.
