Unwrapped (Sugar & Spice #1)

12. Asher

Chapter 12

Asher

T he party becomes a blur after Ivy walks out, her words looping through my mind like a broken record. I force a smile, shake hands, thank people for coming—going through the motions while my thoughts remain elsewhere, circling around the one person who’s no longer here. I barely remember saying goodbye to the last of the guests, their cheerful wishes for the holiday season falling flat in my ears. Even the quiet ride back to my penthouse, the sound of the city muffled by the falling snow, is a haze.

But by the time I’m alone in my office, the weight of everything hits me like a punch to the gut. I slump against the edge of my desk, staring out at the Chicago skyline. The city is a sea of glittering lights, the streets below dusted with fresh snow, twinkling like a scene from a holiday card. Normally, this view gives me a sense of accomplishment, of pride. Tonight, it feels cold, hollow.

Because all I can think about is Ivy—about the way her voice cracked when she told me she didn’t belong in my world. About the pain in her eyes when she looked at me, like she was bracing herself for a disappointment she’d already accepted.

I press my palms against the cool surface of the desk, trying to steady my breathing, but the memory of her expression tightens around my chest like a vise. I can’t shake the image of her walking out, her shoulders tense, as if she was holding herself together by sheer willpower. And I can’t stop hearing her voice, brittle and uncertain, as she said, “I just don’t think I fit into your life, Asher.”

Zane’s words echo in my mind, warnings I brushed off too easily before. She’s not like the women you usually date. She’s got a future, a vision. Don’t mess with that.

He was right, damn him. I’ve been so focused on keeping up the image, on maintaining the persona that everyone expects from me—the smooth-talking CEO, the guy who always has it together—that I forgot what really matters. And what matters is Ivy.

She’s the first person who’s made me feel like I could be more than just the face of a company, more than a carefully crafted image. She’s the first person who’s seen through the act, who’s looked past the charm and found something worth saving beneath it all. And now she thinks she doesn’t belong in my life, that she’s not enough for me, when all I’ve ever wanted is to find a way to fit into hers.

I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair as the truth settles like a stone in my chest. I’m not afraid of losing my reputation or my carefully constructed persona. I’m afraid of losing her.

And suddenly, sitting here in my empty office, surrounded by the trappings of success, it hits me just how much I’ve been lying to myself. I’ve built my entire life around a version of myself that I thought people wanted to see, but it’s never felt real—not the way it did when I was standing beside Ivy in that Christmas market or when I kissed her under the mistletoe and everything else disappeared.

I don’t want to live my life behind a mask anymore. I don’t want to lose the one person who makes me feel like I don’t have to. I grab my phone, about to send her a message that I’m coming to her when I see a text from Zane with a link. I click it, my stomach dropping immediately when it populates across my screen.

"Sir?" Keri appears in my office doorway, her expression tense. I’m about to tell her to get back to the party when I register the look on her face. ”You need to see this."

I'm already looking at it. The article. The photos. The fucking comments that make me want to throw my phone through the window.

"Get our PR team on the phone," I growl, scrolling through the vicious remarks about Ivy. "And find out who leaked these photos."

My blood boils as I read each comment. These people don't know her. They don't see how her eyes light up when she talks about her dreams, how she stays late perfecting recipes until they're exactly right, how she makes everyone around her feel special without even trying.

@SocialiteSpotter: Remember when he dated that Victoria's Secret model? Major downgrade.

I slam my phone down, unable to read more. Running my hands through my hair, I try to steady my breathing. But all I can think about is Ivy reading these comments, believing these shallow, ignorant opinions.

My phone rings, it’s Zane.

"I know," he says before I can speak. "Need me to handle damage control?"

"No." I stand, grabbing my coat. "I have to go."

"Asher-"

"They're tearing her apart, Zane." My voice cracks. "Making her feel like she doesn't belong in my life, when she's the only thing in it that actually matters."

A pause. "Go. I'll take care of things here."

I'm already heading for the elevator when another notification pops up - a new article suggesting Ivy used inside information about Mercer Enterprises to secure funding for her bakery.

"Fuck!" I punch the elevator wall, ignoring the startled looks from other passengers.

This is exactly what I didn't want. Ivy deserves to be known for her talent, her determination, her incredible heart - not reduced to gossip fodder because of me.

My phone buzzes with a text from her:

Ivy

I think we need to talk.

Four words that stop my heart.

No. I won't let them win. I won't let them make her doubt us.

I text back.

Asher

Don't read another word. I'm coming over. We'll face this together.

Because that's what terrifies me most - not the gossip or the speculation, but the thought of losing her because my world is too harsh, too judgmental, too fucking shallow to deserve someone as genuine as Ivy.

They want a statement? Fine. I'll give them one they'll never forget. Because I'm done letting anyone make the woman I love feel like she's anything less than extraordinary.

I just hope I'm not too late.

With a new determination burning in my chest, I grab my coat from the back of my chair and head for the door. The late hour doesn’t matter, even though it’s now after midnight. The empty streets, the snow that falls steadily around me, none of it matters. Because it’s Christmas Eve, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I have to see her. I have to make her understand that she’s wrong—so damn wrong—about not fitting into my life.

The night air is sharp as I step outside, but I barely feel the cold as I make my way to Ivy’s apartment. Snowflakes catch on my coat, melting as soon as they touch my skin, and the city around me feels strangely peaceful, like it’s holding its breath. My footsteps crunch against the freshly fallen snow, echoing in the quiet, and I can see my breath fogging the air in front of me.

I think about the dozens of times I’ve made my way through these streets, always in a rush, always with some goal or meeting or deal on my mind. But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, I’m not thinking about the next move or how to close a deal. All I can think about is Ivy—her laugh, the way she crinkles her nose when she’s deep in thought, the way she makes me feel like I can be more than just Asher Mercer, CEO.

By the time I reach her building, my heart is pounding in my chest, my breath coming in quick, nervous bursts. I hesitate outside, staring up at the dark windows, the quiet wrapping around the building like a blanket. Doubts creep in, whispering that she might not want to see me, that I might have already lost my chance. But I push them aside, clinging to the one truth that’s kept me moving forward tonight: I have to try. Because the thought of letting her walk away without fighting for her is more terrifying than anything else.

I press the buzzer for her apartment, my thumb lingering over the button, and wait. I hold my breath, praying she’s still awake. A few moments later, her voice crackles through the intercom, sounding surprised and a little wary.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Asher? It’s late. What are you doing here? We can talk tomorrow.”

I swallow, trying to steady my voice. “I told you we were going to face this together.”

There’s a pause, a long, agonizing silence, and I brace myself for the possibility that she might turn me away. But then the door buzzes open, and I push inside, taking the stairs two at a time until I’m standing outside her door, my heart pounding harder than ever.

When she opens the door, she’s wearing an oversized sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders, and the sight of her knocks the air right out of my lungs. She looks tired, her face free from makeup, her eyes red-rimmed, a wariness in them that cuts deeper than I expected.

“Asher,” she says, her voice hesitant, like she’s not sure if this is real or some strange dream, “did you walk here?” She notices the snowy clumps in my hair, the shiver that runs through my body.

I take a deep breath, trying to find the words, but everything I rehearsed on the way here suddenly feels inadequate. So I go with the truth, the raw, unpolished truth that’s been clawing at my chest since the moment she walked out of that party.

“I’m sorry, Ivy,” I say, my voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you don’t belong in my life. You have no idea how wrong you are about that. And I don’t know if I can make you believe it, but I have to try.”

She blinks, clearly taken aback, and she wraps her arms around herself, like she’s trying to hold back the uncertainty that flashes across her face. “Asher, I… I don’t even know what to say. This is all… it’s so much. Maybe we should keep things professional. You have this whole world, this life that I can’t be a part of. I’m not?—”

“Stop,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended, but I can’t stand to hear her doubt herself again. “Stop saying you don’t belong. Because you do. You belong with me, Ivy. And if I have to tear down everything I’ve built just to prove that to you, I will.”

She shakes her head, looking down at the floor, her shoulders trembling. “You don’t mean that. You don’t know what you’re asking for, Asher. I’ve seen the way people look at you, the way they expect you to be. And I don’t want to change you. I don’t want you to have to tear anything down to be with me. That’s not fair to you.”

I step closer, closing the distance between us, desperate to make her understand. “You don’t have to change me, Ivy. You already have. You’ve made me see that I’ve been hiding behind this… this image for so long, I forgot who I was underneath. But when I’m with you, I feel like I don’t have to be that guy anymore. I feel like I can just be me. And I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”

She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and for a moment, I see the cracks in her armor—the fear, the hope, the uncertainty. “Why, Asher?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Why would you risk everything for this?”

I reach out, taking her hands in mine, feeling the chill of her fingers seep into my skin. “Because you’re worth it, Ivy. Because you make me want to be better. And because… I think… I know I’m falling for you. I don’t know how else to say it, baby, and I’m sorry if it’s too soon or too much, but I love you. I’m so madly in love with you, Ivy.”

Her breath catches, and for a second, I think I see something soften in her expression. But then she pulls back, shaking her head, her eyes filling with tears. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ve built this whole life, this perfect image, and I’m just going to ruin it with my insecurities and my too sensitive feelings.”

“Maybe I want it ruined,” I say, my voice breaking. “Maybe I want to tear it all down if it means I can have something real. If it means I can have you. We can rebuild our life—together.”

She stares at me, her lips parting in a silent gasp, and I see the struggle in her eyes, the way she’s fighting to hold on to the walls she’s built around herself. But I also see the cracks, the places where hope is starting to seep through.

“I’m scared, Asher,” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath. “I’m scared that you’ll wake up one day and realize this was all a mistake. That you’ll go back to being the guy everyone else wants you to be, and I’ll be the one who’s left behind.”

I reach out, cupping her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “I’m scared too, Ivy. But I’d rather be scared with you than spend another minute pretending I don’t care. I’d rather take the risk than spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and she bites her lip like she’s trying to hold back the words she’s too afraid to say. But then she lets out a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging as if a great weight has lifted. “Okay,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Okay. Let’s try.”

The words are simple, but they feel like the start of something, like the first breath after being underwater for too long. I pull her into my arms, holding her tight as she buries her face in my chest, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

And as we stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms while the snow falls softly outside, I realize that this—being here with her, holding on to something real—is worth more than anything I’ve ever built.