Asher, however, couldn't look away. It wasn't because Olivia stood out among the glamorous crowd, but because she seemed unaffected, almost annoyed by the noise and the people. While every other woman in the club turned their heads in admiration, Olivia remained focused on her work, moving with purpose behind the bar. Her indifference was a sharp contrast to the attention he was used to.
He walked up to the bar, his steps measured and deliberate, expecting the same reaction he always got—stammering or flattery. But when he reached the counter, Olivia didn't even glance up.
"What can I get you?" she asked flatly, her voice betraying no interest.
Asher raised an eyebrow. "Surprised you're not curious who I am."
Olivia's eyes flicked toward him, cold and unimpressed. "If you're ordering something, speak up. Otherwise, there's a line."
Asher felt an unfamiliar twinge of irritation. He wasn't used to being brushed off so easily, especially not by someone who worked in a club. "I'm sure you've heard of me," he said, his tone sharp.
Olivia leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with him. "I've heard of a lot of people. Doesn't mean I care." She straightened up, pulling a glass from the shelf and filling an order for someone else without missing a beat.
Asher, caught off guard by her bluntness, felt something stir inside him—something he hadn't felt in a long time. Most people were either intimidated by him or tried to gain favor, but Olivia…she didn't seem to care at all. In fact, she was the first woman he'd met who wasn't remotely interested in impressing him.
"You've got a sharp mouth," he said, leaning against the bar.
"And I've got sharper things to worry about," Olivia shot back, not bothering to slow down her work. "Are you going to order, or are you just here to waste my time?"
For a moment, Asher's eyes narrowed. He was used to control, used to people playing by his rules. But this woman was playing a different game entirely—one where he had no sway.
"I'll have whatever you recommend," he said finally, curious to see how far her attitude would go.
Olivia set the drink in front of him without a word, already turning her attention to the next customer. Asher took a sip, his gaze still on her. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about her—something raw, unpolished, and utterly different from anyone else he'd met. He didn't despise her sharpness; if anything, it intrigued him.
But Olivia wasn't interested in playing games. She had no time for entitled men, no patience for their inflated egos. She had bills to pay, a sick mother to care for, and a younger brother counting on her. This wasn't a game to her—it was survival.
And she wasn't about to let anyone, not even Asher Lockwood, get in her way.
After their brief encounter at the club, Asher couldn't shake Olivia from his mind. It wasn't attraction in the usual sense; it was curiosity. She was like no one he had ever met—completely indifferent to his wealth, unimpressed by his status, and completely immune to his charm. He found himself thinking about her more often than he liked to admit.
Unbeknownst to Olivia, Asher had taken an interest in her. He had resources at his disposal, and using them was second nature. Through his network, he learned about her—her job as a nurse, her sick mother, and her brother still in school. It wasn't obsession. At least, that's what he told himself. He just wanted to know more about the woman who had so effortlessly brushed him off, the one person who didn't care who he was.
While Olivia went about her life, struggling to balance her two jobs and her family responsibilities, Asher kept tabs on her from a distance. He wasn't proud of it, but he justified it by saying he was curious, not intruding. He watched as she worked grueling shifts at the hospital, barely taking a break, and then spent her weekends at the club, dealing with all kinds of people. Her resilience, her toughness, intrigued him even more.
A few weeks later, fate—or perhaps chance—brought them together again.
Olivia had taken up an extra shift at a charity gala hosted by one of the city's wealthiest families. The pay was good, and she needed every bit of it to cover her mother's rising medical expenses. It wasn't the type of job she liked, but desperation had a way of forcing people into uncomfortable situations. Dressed in a simple black-and-white uniform, Olivia moved through the room, serving drinks and appetizers with the same no-nonsense attitude she always carried.
The ballroom was full of the city's elite, all dressed in expensive suits and gowns, mingling as though they had no care in the world. Olivia had no patience for their pretensions. She kept her head down, doing her job with the same focused efficiency she applied to everything. But her expression was cold, her face hard, and her eyes distant.
Asher spotted her from across the room almost immediately. His eyes narrowed, and a small, amused smile crept onto his lips. There she was again, her face as unbothered as ever, as if she couldn't care less about the glamorous event surrounding her. While everyone else was trying to outdo each other with charm and elegance, Olivia moved through the crowd like she was in a different world.
His interest reignited, Asher watched her closely, his gaze following her every movement. Her sharp, no-nonsense demeanor was even more striking in a setting like this, where everyone else wore masks of civility and false warmth. Olivia's bluntness, her complete lack of pretense, stood out.
As he observed her, a glint appeared in his eyes. She hadn't noticed him yet, completely focused on her work, but he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. He found himself curious about how she would react this time. Would she brush him off again, or would she finally recognize that they were bound to meet more than once?
When Olivia finally approached his section of the room, her face remained impassive, eyes scanning the crowd. She was too focused on her job to notice him standing nearby, until she reached his table. When she looked up, her expression didn't change, though there was a brief flash of recognition in her eyes. But instead of the shock or discomfort he might have expected, she simply raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "What are you doing here?"
"Asher Lockwood," he said smoothly, breaking the silence as she set a drink down in front of him. "We meet again."
Olivia crossed her arms briefly before returning to her tray, her voice sharp. "You sure seem to be everywhere."
He smiled, enjoying the challenge in her tone. "Or maybe it's you who's everywhere."
"I'm working," she replied, her voice hard, making it clear she wasn't interested in small talk. "Some of us have to."
Asher leaned back in his chair, his eyes glinting with amusement. "And you're very good at it. Though, I'm starting to think we keep running into each other for a reason."
Olivia didn't bother to respond, turning to walk away. But this time, Asher wasn't going to let her slip away so easily. "How about we skip the drinks and talk instead?" he called after her.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder with a look of mild annoyance. "Talk? About what?"
Asher smiled again, that same spark of intrigue lighting up his expression. "About why I can't seem to get you out of my head."
For the first time, Olivia hesitated, her tough exterior cracking just slightly. She had no time for games, but there was something about the way he said it—something different from the usual arrogance she dealt with in men. Still, she wasn't going to let him off that easily.
"That sounds like a you problem," she said flatly before walking away, leaving Asher sitting there with a glint of admiration in his eyes.