Chapter 7

ASHER

I can’t believe I’m awake, dressed, and eating breakfast while driving across town to work for Daniel, of all people. But I can’t let Mama down on my first day on the job.

I’m definitely going to negotiate for afternoon shifts because this seven in the morning thing is absolutely not my style. Despite my best intentions to be punctual, I didn’t account for the nightmare of finding a parking spot after the hellish drive.

Finding a spot, as it turns out, is no easy task. So, I end up walking through his office doors at five past seven. It’s not really that late, but you wouldn’t know it from the way Daniel loses his cool the moment I step into his private office.

“What time do you call this, Asher? Seven, I said, seven a.m.!” he rants.

I ignore him and try to sit down, but he starts barking orders at me. “No, we need to leave; pick up those papers.” He points to three massive folders full of paper.

“Seriously?” I mutter, disbelief and anger mingling. If this is how he treats me in the first thirty seconds, I dread to think how he’ll treat me for the rest of our working relationship.

Let’s just say I won’t be sticking around, not even for the money or any holy water he might offer.

Biting back my irritation, I walk over to the folders and pick them up, turning to him with one of those fake smiles Zach taught me.

“Where would the niece predator like these?” I ask, feigning politeness.

“Look,” he says, stepping up to me. He’s a bit shorter than I am, slightly aged but still youthful. His blonde hair looks out of place on my face because he looks so damn similar it pisses me off.

“This is a law firm; clients won’t appreciate hearing crap like that. Remember, Asher, you’re only here because Violet begged me to help you. I don’t want you here, and I don’t need you. This is a favor I’m more than happy to rescind if you cross the line again.”

“All right, old man. Don’t get in my face,” I retort, pushing him away with a hand to his chest.

“Get your hand off me, Asher. Get your act together. I’m not going to tolerate your nonsense because I’m not your parents. This is my business and my reputation at stake, and I don’t appreciate lazy workers. My money is better spent on assets rather than liabilities.”

Assets? That’s the word Dad always uses when he’s trying to get me to work. I swallow the lump of anger in my throat and nod, not because I’m scared of Daniel, but because of Mama.

I don’t want to let her down so soon into this job that she obviously worked hard to get for me.

“Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Where do you want these?” I ask again, this time with less attitude.

Daniel nods, a smirk playing on his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this assertive before. A few years under my sister’s watchful eye must have given him some backbone. Impressive, I suppose.

“My car?” he suggests as he walks past me.

“See you this afternoon, Lexie; make sure you have that contract printed and on my desk, please.”

I follow him, glancing at the girl behind the desk. She’s cute; I’m surprised Ella isn’t insanely jealous that Daniel spends all day with this girl.

But then again, Ella knows how to handle herself and has never lacked the confidence to claim what she considers hers.

I’m sure she’s had a word or two with this Lexie girl, and I don’t doubt Daniel has his rules he must follow. Ella’s just like Mama—strong-willed and independent but also so bossy that it’s unbearable.

Luckily for Daniel, his car is parked right outside in a spot that doesn’t have a meter and is large enough for a tank.

I guess he must pay for the space, and it just annoys me. Couldn’t he have paid for a few spaces? Made it easier for me to park on this insanely busy street!

I reach for the back seat to put the paperwork in, my hand on the door as he instructs me to put the papers in the netting in the trunk.

Sure enough, he’s not kidding about the netting. It’s a bag that’s fastened to both sides of the boot and zips up. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I suppose it makes sense—the papers won’t go far if they slip out.

I grudgingly follow his instructions, despising every moment of submitting to his orders. Every. Single. Moment.

Then, I climb into the back of the car, flat out refusing to sit up front with Daniel. He gives me a sour look as he merges into the thick traffic before I’ve even had a chance to fasten my seatbelt.

A slew of witty retorts races through my mind, but somehow, I manage to keep them to myself.

This is shaping up to be a brutal morning…why on earth did Mama volunteer me for this? I drag my hand down my face, a gesture of sheer mental fatigue.

I’m still massively hungover, likely carrying enough weed in my system to be legally questionable, and I can’t for the life of me understand why I agreed to this.

So, I watch the cityscape blur past, counting yellow cars like a toddler to pass the time until we pull up in front of the courthouse.

“Grab the yellow folder, please, Ash,” Daniel tosses over his shoulder.

“Asher,” I correct him.

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t use my full name, opting instead to exit the car and retrieve his briefcase.

“I fucking hate this job already,” I mutter to the empty leather seats.

But despite my loathing for this job and everything it represents—working for Daniel—I get out and grab the folder. I trail behind him like a dog chasing a bone.

I resent that my fathers have put me in this position.

I can just imagine them all having a good laugh, knowing how much I despise my so-called uncle. They probably find this whole situation hilarious. A lesson in humility, perhaps, for not being content with what I had.

“Mr. Henderson, it’s lovely to see you again,” a petite, clerk-like woman greets Daniel.

He’s cordial and warm but quickly moves on, citing his client’s needs. I suspect if he hadn’t, she would have chatted his ear off—she seems the type. Reminds me of my nana, who never knows when to stop talking.

“Sit there, don’t move, talk, or frolic. I’ll be out in half an hour,” Daniel orders.

His tone irks me so much that I mock him behind his back, making exaggerated hand gestures.

“Respect, Asher. Find it!” he retorts without even looking at me.