My eyes widen as I try to bite back the tears building behind my eyes. My mind immediately goes to Jackson. Picturing my sweet blue-eyed baby all alone. It’s hard to imagine a golden child left broken from the loss of his mother. I push the thought into the back of my mind. I cannot get emotional.

“And your father?” I pry.

With his eyes fixed on the scenery below, Asher nods his head in affirmation that he too passed on. I feel like the air has been wiped from my chest.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He’s not looking at me, yet seems to know exactly what I’m thinking. “I’d hardly call myself an orphan. My grandfather wouldn’t stand for it. His motto is never look back, only forward. Take no prisoners. Run the empire. That’s what I’ve done.”

When Malory told me about Alexander Asher weeks ago, I pictured a disingenuous, spoiled kid who didn’t know what it was like to live in the real world. While Asher may not have wanted for anything material in his life, he has certainly known pain.

“It sounds kind of lonely, being your own empire.”

His eyes dart back at me, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. Both his and my own. His eyes do something to me whenever they look at me. While I know nothing about him, he acts as if he can see right through me. My emotions are transparent and he’s breathing them in.

“You are an enigma, Mrs. Monroe. You are the only person who doesn’t seem to know a thing about me. How is that?”

“I suppose I’ve been preoccupied.”

“I suppose you have… With your husband?”

I blink at him. “Asher, my husband is not the punch line or your defense for everything I say to you. You have to stop doing that,” my voice says in a scolding manner.

He winces. “My apologies. I didn’t know it bothered you so much.”

“And I see I’m back to Mrs. Monroe.” I lean in to him. “How many defense mechanisms do you have?”

He looks dumbfounded, and I know I’ve just hit the bull’s eye. For a man so powerful, he has enough tells to ruin a game of poker.

Steeling away from my glances, Asher opens the Citarella bag and starts to unpack a simple lunch. Simple as far as what I would expect from someone of his wealth and position.

From the bag he produces two prosciutto, eggplant, and mozzarella sandwiches on baguettes, an apple, an orange, and two small bottles of Pellegrino, each with its own cup.

Holding the apple and orange in each hand, Asher gestures for me to pick one. I choose the apple and take a bite out of it immediately. The fruit is crisp and the juices run down my chin. I raise the back of my wrist to my face to quickly retrieve the mess. Someone thinks this is amusing.

Seeing the mood is lighter, I try to broach the subject again.

“How do you ever get to know someone, then? If every one knows everything about you, then there’s no reason to have a conversation.”

“When I get to know someone, particularly women, there is no conversation involved.” Asher winks as he pours sparkling water into one of the cups.

“Calm down there, Casanova.” I take a cup from his hand, “What do you do when you’re not entertaining the women of New York?”

Bringing his legs up a step closer, Asher turns away and places the bottle on his other side. With his cup still in his hand, he turns his body back toward me and rests his elbow on his knee. “Well, you already saw my true passion, the cello. I also play the piano, but that is for very private audiences.” His smile is enigmatic, and I’m pretty sure I just saw that diamond glisten in his teeth. Man, this guy has a great smile.

“I’m sure.” Rolling my eyes, I take a sip. “What else do you do? Do you play any sports?”

“Ahh. No.”

“Why not?”

“Group sports are not my thing.”

“So you won’t be playing on the company softball team?”

“That’s a definite no.”

“Snob.”

“Nosey.”

“Narcissist.”

“Nar…?” Asher takes the rest of his wine and finishes it in one gulp. “Do you want me to tell you about myself or shall you continue to berate me with foolish names all day?”

I can’t help but show my grin. “Fine. What do you do in your free time?”

“Well, I work… a lot.” He lifts the orange and begins to peel away the skin. “My grandfather, as I’m sure you do know about…” he says with a wink.

I cringe at the notion that I’m the worst investigator in the world.

He continues. “My grandfather believes in hard work and only hard work. He takes these large companies, buys them for cheap, rips them a apart, and sells the pieces to the highest bidder.”

“Sounds like Pretty Woman.”

“Yes… like Pretty Woman but without the call girls,” he says with annoyance.

“No call girls?”

He looks up from the orange peel and gives me a hard stare. “I don’t pay for sex.”

I don’t doubt the man.

Tilting his head to the side, he leans his body toward me. “Shall I add ADD to your file when I get back to the office? I don’t talk about my personal life often, and you are making it very difficult.”

Fine, I’ll behave. “I’m sorry. Continue. So all work, no play.”

Asher pops an orange slice into his mouth. His lips glisten with the juices in the sun. “Yes, all work, no play has been the way since I was ten years old. Aside from the office, I work toward funding music programs and helping kids.”

“Why?”

He takes another slice and furrows his brows as if he doesn’t understand the question. “Why all the work?”

“Why the music and the kids?” I bite my lip, thinking of how to deliver my next statement. “You don’t seem like the caring, giving type.” I wince.

He bites back. “That was mean.”

I smile sweetly. “That was honest. You said you liked honest.”

He peers down at me. He’s only inches beside me yet feels like he’s mountains above me. “I do, but it doesn’t mean I like to hear it.”

Asher may not like it, but I may not get this opportunity again. “So why the music programs, the grand concert in the park to raise money for music education programs? Is it a big tax write-off?”

A frown creases his face. I know I’ve hurt his feelings.

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly.

“Don’t be. I know that’s how my grandfather sees it, but the motivation behind all of it is completely personal.”

“Can I know the reason?”

Alex thinks about this for a moment. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I have spoken entirely too much about myself today. We’re done talking about me. Now about you…”

Slowly unwrapping my sandwich, I look down at my lap and try to think of something interesting to say about myself. I don’t play any instruments or have my own charitable foundations. I don’t own a company, nor am I well versed in culture, history, and the arts.

Asher notices the expression on my face. “You are fascinating to me. You know this. I want to know you better.”

I take a bite of my sandwich and ponder what I could possibly talk about. The truth is… “I am so boring I can’t think of a thing to say.”

Shaking his head again, Asher places his fingers on my chin and raises them to meet his gaze. “Fascinating.” A singular word departs from his lips. I could answer that comment with a single word myself—mesmerizing.

“Okay, then.” He chides, “If you aren’t going to freely give up any information, I will ask the questions.”

I open my mouth to begin to protest, but Asher answers my concern in time. “I promise not to ask a single question about your husband.”

My shoulders relax and I nod in approval.

“Since being friends seems to interest you so much, who are your friends?”

Ugh, a dreaded question. “Well, Malory is probably my best friend, although I don’t see her that often or talk to her as much as I’d like.” Come to think of it, she’s a weak excuse for a best friend. Lately, every time I’m around her, I’m either insulted by something or uncomfortable with one of her comments.