"Yes, yes, you're a prim and proper menthil gentleman through and through. I understand."
Asher flicked open his watch, his eyes struggling to stay open. The wine he had drunk wasn’t doing him any favors.
Bloody hell, it’s quarter past ten. Does this woman intend to sleep here? He sighed. Ah, this minx will soon be the death of me. Not even work today was so exhausting.
He walked over to his couch, taking off his suit jacket and sitting down. It was a blessing he'd had the forethought to leave a second pair of clothes at work in case of emergencies.
He had already sent his bloody set to Anston Fine Cloths. It was a crying shame he wasn’t there to see the look on that silly cashmere-wearing salesman’s face when he opened the parcel.
I’ll certainly be getting my money's worth for that twelve pounds.
Before he could contemplate the complexities and implications of the fairy tale Renee had told him, he drifted off to sleep, unable to fight the exhaustion any longer.
---
Renee stood by the couch, gazing at Asher’s peaceful, sleeping face, a possessiveness swirling in her chest. She moved closer, her breath hitching as she knelt beside him. Leaning in, she nestled against him, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent—woody, warm, and intoxicatingly familiar.
Her lips curled into a disturbing smile, and a soft giggle escaped her.
“Nobody else... NOBODY ELSE!” Her voice was a frantic whisper, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. “They don’t understand you like I do. They never could. Tout à moi! Mine, mine, mine..."
She tucked a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, her fingertips lingering on his face. A sense of satisfaction washed over her as she nestled closer, her words fading into the stillness of the night.
---
Asher stirred as sunlight filtered through the window, the warmth on his face dragging him from his slumber. He blinked, the remnants of sleep still clouding his mind. He stretched, only to notice the absence of warmth beside him.
“Renee?” he called out groggily.
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There was no response.
He groaned, rubbing his eyes, and sat up. That’s when he noticed the note on the coffee table. Picking it up, he squinted at the hurried scribble.
Asher, I had to leave for an appointment. Don’t wait for me! —Renee
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
She could’ve at least woken me up...
Shaking off the remnants of sleep, he glanced at the clock and froze.
Bloody hell! I’m late for work!
He jumped to his feet, throwing on the first shirt he could find. His fingers fumbled with the buttons as he muttered curses under his breath. His mind raced through the tasks he had for the day, each one more daunting than the last.
Grabbing his bag, he dashed out the door, panic setting in as the reality of his tardiness hit him. The cool morning air stung his face as he rushed down the street, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.
Yet, as much as he tried to shake it off, Renee lingered in his mind. Something about their encounter felt... different. Why does it feel so strange this time? He couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to the fairy tale she had told him than he had initially realized.
---
Asher weaved through the crowded streets, his mind racing. He couldn't get the image of Renee’s laughter or the intensity of her gaze out of his head. His nerves were shot, and the weight of the day loomed over him like a storm cloud.
He rushed into the office, pulling out his watch just in time to see the minute hand click past 7:15.
Not that bad, he thought, feeling a small sense of relief. Nobody will notice.
Feeling a bit better about his situation, he strolled into the lobby and made his way to Liz’s desk.
“Good morning, Liz. Is the Captain in?” he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.
Liz took one look at him and burst into laughter, barely managing to stifle it.
“Asher, your shirt buttons are all mismatched, and you reek of perfume. You’ve got lipstick all over your collar!”
Asher mentally cursed, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. He muttered under his breath,
“Sink into the floor... sink into the floor...”
Before he could escape, Captain Bolard entered the lobby.
“Good morning, dear. Is my breakfast here yet?”
Asher quickly walked past the Captain, praying he wouldn’t notice anything amiss.
“It’s just arrived, Captain. Would you like me to bring it to your office?” Liz asked, barely containing her amusement.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll take it myself. Thank you, Liz.” Captain Bolard took his plate and turned towards the hallway.
“Asher?” the Captain called out, a grin tugging at his lips. “What’s the matter? Did she steal your wallet?”
Asher kept walking, ignoring the laughter that echoed behind him as he sought refuge in Henry’s office.
---
“Morning, old man,” Asher grumbled as he stepped inside.
“And before you say anything, shut it. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. I just haven’t come up with it yet.”
Henry looked up from the fire, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.
“Well done, lad. Didn’t think you had it in you after yesterday morning!”
Despite the chaos of his morning, Asher found some peace as he spent the next few hours pouring over historical documents from the firm’s records. His clothes had been returned from Anston Fine Cloths, and he promptly changed into them, with an admirable level of shamelessness he had also sent his current set back with the delivery man.
Lunch arrived courtesy of the Captain, and Asher was content as he ate while skimming his notes. The day had turned out far better than he’d expected.
---
Knock, knock.
Asher looked up from his papers, surprised by the sound. The office door was ajar, yet whoever it was still knocked.
In the doorway stood a young woman, likely around his age, no more than twenty. She had black hair, brown eyes, and while not particularly striking, she was certainly attractive. Tall and lithe, probably around 5'11 if Asher had to guess.
She was wearing a beaming smile, and her enthusiasm bubbled out uncontrollably.
“Hi! You must be the new guy! I’m Clarissa! Nice to finally meet you!”
She bounded into the room like an overexcited puppy, grasping Asher’s hand and shaking it vigorously.
Asher stood, letting his arm go limp, feeling more like a passenger in his life than ever before.
It seems this is Clarissa's world and I'm just living in it.
“Asher... pleased to meet you, Clarissa,” he replied, with all the enthusiasm of a dead fish.
Perhaps Renee had set the bar too high. He wasn’t particularly affected by Clarissa’s charm.