The city was not a place that was ever still. It was always in motion. It was the people rushing somewhere, phones in hand, cars honking, babies crying, street musicians doing their thing.
Everything and anything always in motion.
But on that particular day, there was an exception. In a stunning skyscraper, all alone in his office there was a man. He was as still as a statue, his hands behind his back as he stared down at the bustle of the world below. The people looking like ants from his point of view.
Tristan Asher, the CEO of Asher Industries had been standing on that very spot for close to half an hour...thinking.
Something was wrong. Tristan could not put a finger on it but something was definitely not right.
It was not his body.
To confirm what he already knew, his eyes flicked to his reflection on the window. He was greeted by warm olive skin, his high cheekbones, and blue eyes.
He was perfectly fine...healthy...so was he feeling so uneasy? Could it be the company?
Still unmoving he wrecked his brains. The stocks were healthy. Business was booming. Sure there were a few slumps here and there, but overall, everything was going great. He was even thinking of diversifying their income streams some more. Maybe going over to minerals.
Perhaps there was something wrong at the company though. Maybe a scheme afoot, there was always someone plotting( especially his power hungry cousin Zachariah).
Some of the board members believed that at thirty, Tristan was too young for the power that he held( not that any of them complained when he was making them more and more money). They believed that his father retiring early and handing Tristan the reigns had been a mistake.
They thought him soft because he did not go around swallowing up weaker companies for the sake of it. Most of them also did not like the fact that Tristan was unmarried, and also did not have kids. He was single by choice, work was far too time consuming for him to waste time on relationships, but the board did not care.
"Asher Industries needs stability!" Was the familiar cry. The ones who often said that were also the ones who were all for cousin Zachariah being in charge. Afterall he was married( never mind that he cheated every chance he got, and all his kids were the products of his affairs).
Moving for the first time in a while, Tristan shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. It would do him no good to get himself worked up. The family lawyer was coming to see him that morning. Tristan had been putting off the meeting for months. Busy handling crisis after crisis.
Now the old fossil, Mr Riley, had forced Tristan to make time.
"If you skip this meeting Mr Asher, it will bring ruin upon Asher Industries," And that, Tristan finally forced himself to admit, was the reason why he was feeling so out of sorts.
He had no idea what the meeting would be about. But he got the feeling that whatever it was it would be something big.
No sooner had he begun thinking about the upcoming meeting, he heard the door open and then close swiftly. With a sigh, the CEO rearranged his features, a cool mask of control sliding over his face. All of the turmoil that he was feeling easily hidden away.
"Lucy, has Mr. Riley arrived already?"
His PA, Lucy Torres always answered promptly when questioned. A holdover from when she had been in the army. So the silence that followed his question had Tristan on edge.
Turning around he was met by the sight of an unfamiliar woman standing in his office.
Anybody else would have panicked, but Tristan'd had crazier things happen. He took a breath and forced himself to observe.
Her dark hair was in a high ponytail, green eyes fixed on him, her soft curves apparent even with her flowy skirt and light blouse.
She was the type of woman who got looks simply by walking down the street. But they were not out in the streets, they were in his office and she was trespassing.
Could she be there to harm him?
At the thought, Tristan casually slipped a hand into his pocket, and felt a pen there. It would not do much to help him if she turned out to be some sort of assassin, or a crazy lady. But at least he would have something on him.
"And just who might you be, madam?" His voice was smooth and crisp. If she turned out to be crazy, he did not want to aggravate her.
The woman stared at him for a bit.
Her green eyes wide, like she was not sure what she wanted either.
Ahh...the crazy theory was holding more weight by the second.
Normally, Tristan was not one to ask questions twice, but the woman seemed to be having some sort of episode.
"Who are you?" He asked, making sure that his tone remained even.
Then he slowly stepped away from the window.
His movement awakened something in her and she took a deep breath. Then she suddenly just came alive.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," She told him as she moved forward, decreasing the distance between them.
"My name is Ariel Jones. You don't know me and quite frankly, I do not know you. I just know your name and your title," She talked so fast Tristan barely followed what she was saying.
"CEO Asher, I am here to ask you for a favor," Here she paused, big green eyes settled on him, looking so earnest that the look tugged at something in his chest.
Letting go of the pen in his pocket, Tristan let out a sigh.
So she was not crazy...just desperate.
When he addressed her this time, he spoke to her using his business voice. The one that commanded boardroom meetings and made sure that people knew better than to mess with him.
"Since you have already admitted to the fact that the two of us are perfect strangers.
Just what sort of favour could you be here to ask of me?" He questioned, genuinely curious.
The last time somebody had done something so daring, the woman had asked him to sign her underwear. Lucy had gotten the lady in a headlock and had dragged her out. But back then, Tristan had been in the lobby of some hotel, but this woman had somehow managed to make it into his office. After he heard what she had to say. He would definitely be talking to security about this.
"I need you to borrow me a million in cold hard cash," Tristan could not stop his eyes widening in shock.
With those words forced out the woman went silent, her hands clenching and unclenching, on her skirt. Her green eye pinning him in place a suspicious shine to them.
She stared at him and Tristan stared back. Then he blinked and waited for the punchline to come. None came. So he continued to stare.
What?
He was literally gobsmacked. Had she just rushed into his office and asked to borrow a million from him despite the fact that they did not know each other. Granted a million was chump change for him, but still it was the principle of the thing. The crazy theory was once again presenting itself as an option.
It was probably a bad idea, but faced with the absurdity of the whole thing, he threw his head back and laughed. Then looked at her again, the sound cutting off as he realized that she was still looking at him with a pleading look in her eyes, the hope there clear.
Was she serious? Did she honestly believe he would give a stranger that much money within minutes of meeting them? Who did she think he was?
Sure, his cousin had once given ten million to a pair of strippers on a whim, but Tristan was not the kind to just waste money like that. Humor gone, he addressed her again.
"Miss Jones, you seem to be going through something. So I'm going to give you only a tiny bit of kindness and trust me, not many people get this from me," Before she could begin to hope, he continued speaking.
"I'm going to count to five. You are going to walk out of this office, get out of this building and never come back. And in return, I will pretend like this never happened," She swayed in place like he had struck her. But then before he knew what was happening, she had gathered herself and rushed towards him.
She ended up between him, and the desk where his phone was. The phone that he could have been using to call security.
"Miss Jones..." His words cut off when she took one more step and sunk to her knees right in front of him. Seeing the desperation in her eyes suddenly made him want to look away. But he could not. Even if seeing such hurt made his heart ache Tristan forced himself too meet her gaze.
" Mr Asher, please...please I need this. I owe a loan shark money and they are going to break all of my bones, or sell me, or some other horrible thing if I do not pay them by the end of the month,"
Whatever little charity Tristan was feeling towards her dissipated at those words.
She owed a loan shark money.
That was a red flag as far as he was concerned. Even if he had been considering her crazy plea. The fact that she was irresponsible enough with her finances to go to a loan shark
for cash would have been more than enough for Tristan to not give her anything.
Rather than listening to her continue to talk, he decided that the conversation was over, and began to count as promised.
"Five. Four..."
"Mr Asher, please," She was begging in earnest now, but Tristan would not be moved.
"Three. Two..."
If she'd had any sense, she would have been running for the exit. But she was still kneeling, and Tristan had to look elsewhere when he saw he tear drops on his shoes.
He did not know her, why did he feel so bad?
"Please, please, please, I need this money," She begged. Then when Tristan tried to move away from her, she gripped his calf and bowed deeper, her ponytail brushing against the front of his trousers.
"Just this once, I know you don't know me but I promise I will pay you back. It might take the rest of my life but every little bit that I make from my food truck, I will give to you. Please Mr Asher,"
Just as he was about to shake her off. There was beep from the desk, and his PA's voice came through.
"Sir, Mr Riley is here, I am sending him in, as instructed," Just like that, the situation went from weird to serious. With the phone silent, he turned his attention to the woman bowing before him.
"Miss Jones, I'm certain that your problem is very important and all of that but I have a meeting right this very moment as you've just heard. Leave and don't come back," This time Tristan was a bit more forceful. Leaning down he gently put his hands around her shoulders intent on helping her stand.
She moved with him, but the moment that she tried to raise her head, she crashed back down to her knees, a pained gasp escaping her.
"Ow!" She hissed.
"What?" Tristan asked, watching as she brought her hand up to her ponytail.
Only then did he realize the problem. Oh no!
Her hair had somehow gotten caught in the front of his trousers around the button.
The sound of footsteps getting closer could be heard, and all of a sudden Tristan was very aware of how things looked.
A woman kneeling before him, her head uncomfortably close to a certain area of his body. Oh no, this would not go down well at all. There was no way anyone would think it was all innocent.
"Move, move, move," Now it was Tristan's turn to beg. Part of him scared that she would use his desperation to her advantage.
He breathed a sigh of relief when she moved with him as he made his way to the table, matching his steps despite still being stuck.
"Stay under the table and do not make a sound," He whispered hurriedly, his heart beating fast in his chest.
No sooner had she gotten beneath the desk, with Tristan sitting down and trying to act like everything was completely normal the door opened.
Mr Riley, looking closer to a hundred than the sixty years that he was, walked in.
"Mr Riley, lovely to see you," Tristan greeted, trying his best to act like he did not have a woman under the table. The crabby old lawyer did not even bother pretending.
"You brat, you've been ignoring me for months. If I hadn't twisted your arm into this you probably wouldn't have seen me,"
" Apologies, Mr Riley. What is it that you have been wanting to discuss this entire time?" He asked. The old man made his way to the seat opposite the desk and slowly sat down. Only once he'd put his briefcase on the table did he answer.
"I have been hounding you this entire time because we need to talk about your upcoming marriage,"
What marriage? Last time he'd checked he was not seeing anyone, and he had no intention to marry any time soon. What marriage could Mr Riley possibly be on about?