to my forehead and waited. I knew if I got up, it would be on trembling limbs. Nausea always accompanied my anxiety attacks, so I needed a minute to compose myself or I would eject the hors d’oeuvres I’d just eaten.
Releasing a shaky breath, I chastised myself. After the last time I’d visited Jamie in prison, the doc wanted to put me on antianxiety medication, but there was no way. I did not have good memories associated with those meds. Instead, I fought my way through the anxiety and depression and thankfully made it to the other side.
I hadn’t felt anxious in a long while, and I hadn’t had an anxiety attack in an even longer while.
Fuck.
That goddamn book. It reminded me of Jamie. It was making me see things that weren’t there. Shit.
“Okay, I did not expect to find you like this.” Asher’s soft voice brought my head up.
He was there. Lowered to his haunches in front of me, concern creasing his brow.
Relieved to see him, I reached out a shaky hand and he drew it against his chest. I felt his slow, steady heartbeat and relaxed a little. God, I loved him.
“Anxiety attack,” I admitted.
“Honey.” He gave me a commiserating look and pulled me to my feet. Anxiety was something we unfortunately shared. He got it. I cuddled into his strong chest as he wrapped his arms around me. “You want to go?”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m just so tired now.”
“Do you want to tell Patel you’re leaving?”
“No. Let’s just go.” I knew it was rude, but I was probably pale and shaken, and truthfully, I didn’t think he’d notice his art director’s absence.
“What brought it on?” Asher asked as we walked out of the house. There was a cool evening breeze, welcome against my clammy skin. Parked cars lined the drive and two valet guys sat drinking coffee near the end of the driveway at a pop-up table. Since Asher’s car was parked near the gates, he hadn’t surrendered a key fob. Not that he could or would.
Asher drove a Rimac Concept Two. The hypercar was fully electric, combining Asher’s eco-heart with his love for horsepower. I waited as the $2 million car scanned his face with its facial recognition software. The doors opened upward, like the Batmobile.
I’d never get used to Asher’s wealth, no matter how hard he tried to insinuate me into almost every aspect of his life.
Sliding into the tan, leather passenger seat, I didn’t speak until the doors closed. “I think I’m just exhausted,” I lied. “We’ve been working flat out.”
I didn’t want to tell Asher about hallucinating Jamie. I didn’t want him to suggest, for the thousandth time, that I see a therapist.
My best friend studied me, and I squirmed beneath his dark gaze. I hated lying to him. Those chocolate-brown eyes were so kind and warm, it felt evil to deceive him.
“You’re doing a great job, Jane. No one is questioning how you got promoted. It’s not about me—it’s about how good you are at this job.”
I gave him a grateful smile. He was the only one in my life who still called me Jane. To everyone else, I was Margot. I thought I could shed the name Jane easily. However, when our connection deepened, I realized how much I missed just being Jane and had asked Asher to call me by that name. He and Cassie, my friend from college, were the only people who did. It might have been confusing for some people, but not for me. There was still a part of me that wanted to hold on to a piece of the girl I used to be.
As the car reversed out of the driveway, barely making a sound, I forced my tired eyes to stay open.
“Anything on Foster?” I asked.
I hadn’t asked in a while. But hallucinating Jamie tugged at my guilty conscience.
“I can’t get Lisa to talk.” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “He’s paid her off. Like he has the last few. And they’re too scared he’ll ruin their careers. I have to be careful too. If Foster discovers I’m investigating him, it’s all over.”
My chest ached with sadness while bitter helplessness burned my throat. “Maybe it’s time I went in.”
“No,” Asher snapped. “We will not have this conversation again.”
At my dejected silence, he sighed. “Jane, a honey trap is too dangerous. And who’s to say whatever you discover would stand up in court? Worst-case scenario—and the most likely scenario—he takes what he wants