It had been a while since Asher arrived at the office, yet the image of Amelia's smiling face lingered in his mind like a sweet curse. She was already a dangerously alluring woman—he'd known that from the very first moment he laid eyes on her. Hell, anyone with a functioning set of eyes could see it.
But the smile? That had caught him off guard.
She never smiled—at least not like that. So freely. So... genuinely. The way her face lit up had done something to him, and he didn't like not knowing what.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Asher?" he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "It's just a damn smile. People smile at you all the time."
He shook his head and picked up the document in front of him, trying to bury himself in work.
It hadn't been any better last night either. He'd stayed up late in his study, only returning to the bedroom around midnight. Amelia had already fallen asleep by then—which, frankly, he hadn't expected.
That left him with two options: crash on the couch… or climb into bed beside his legally wedded wife.
He chose the latter.
They were married, after all. And it's not like anything was going to happen.
At least… that's what he told himself.
But Amelia had a bad habit of clinging in her sleep. And Asher? Asher was a man.
A man with self-control.
Mostly.
Just as he was trying to clear the thought from his head, a knock came at his door.
"Sir, Mr. Ryan is here to see you," his secretary announced.
Asher blinked. "Ryan? What's he doing here?"
Before he could get an answer, the man himself waltzed in like he owned the place. His secretary silently slipped away, well-used to Ryan's dramatic timing.
"What's up, Her Majesty," Ryan greeted with a cheeky grin.
"What are you doing here?" Asher asked flatly. "Don't you have a mountain of shoots and commercials to do? Thought your schedule was fully booked."
Ryan gasped. "Wow. I clear time from my glamorous, star-studded schedule to visit my best friend, and the first thing out of your mouth is 'Why are you here?' Not even a 'Ryan, I missed your gorgeous face.' Honestly, humans are so ungrateful."
"Stop being dramatic. It's not like I begged you to come."
Ryan clutched his chest theatrically. "Unbelievable. I'll just leave then. So sorry for intruding in your very sacred office space."
Asher sighed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for god's sake—just sit your dramatic ass down."
Ryan scoffed but obeyed, flopping onto the chair like a wounded diva. But the playfulness faded quickly, replaced by something heavier.
"You remember the lead I told you we got?" he asked, voice lowered.
Asher's expression shifted. He nodded once. "Yeah."
Ryan's face grew serious. "We tracked it. It led us to someone inside the agency—one of the heads, to be exact."
"What?!" Asher's eyes widened, the paper in his hand forgotten. "You're telling me one of our own betrayed us?"
Ryan nodded grimly. "One of the originals. Someone we started with."
Asher swore under his breath. Of course it was someone close. That was his first mistake—trusting too easily, thinking loyalty came with a shared past. Never again.
"But that's not all," Ryan continued, voice dropping even lower.
Asher leaned forward, tension crackling between his fingers.
The conversation lasted a while. And by the time Ryan stood to leave, Asher's mind was already strategizing.
"Start looking into the others," he ordered. "If there's one rat, there may be more. I want the whole damn nest cleaned out."
Ryan smirked faintly. "Already on it. And don't worry—I've got the traitor. Thought I'd ask him a few questions before I send him off to meet his maker."
Asher's lips curved into a cold, approving smile. "Good. Make it painful."