Chapter 8

Asher

“Damn paperwork,” I cursed as I signed yet another document. It had been a tiring day with little to look forward to. I eyed the bottle that sat in the bar just opposite my work table. It was tempting, but my damned heart could only take so much. “Fuck the doctors,” I muttered as I stood and walked over to the bar. I picked up the bottle and looked at its label, Domaine De La Romanee Conti. I sighed and dropped the bottle back in the bar. It should be a crime to have this at home when I couldn't even drink to my satisfaction.

My phone buzzed, and I walked back to my table. The caller ID read: Jenny. It was the red hair I was with a couple of months ago. For some reason, she wouldn't stop calling. Something about not being able to get me out of her mind. I scoffed. It was always about the money—I gave up on love when I made my first billion. It had become clear that I was never going to find anyone who really loved me. Not that I was interested in love or any woman; at least, un