Cupid by Kenya Wright, Jade Eby

couples and wondered why some stayed together while others divorced.”
    “This is not answering my question of why you’re reading the book.”
    “I’m getting to that.” He flipped another page. “So Dr. Morris studied hundreds of these couples and discovered that the successful, happy relationships had similar progressions of intimacy. They left a sufficient amount of time to advance to each stage. He theorized that with each slow progression in stages, it gave the couple a stronger bond.”
    “And the couples that rushed through all of these stages didn’t develop anything?”
    “They developed relationships, but their bonds weren’t strong, and most usually divorced.”
    She set her glass on the table. “But why are you reading this?”
    “It’s interesting.”
    “Well,” His mother crossed her legs. “I have another question.”
    He glanced up at her. “Are you going to let me read, Mother?”
    “No.”
    “Then by all means, go ahead.”
    “Why are you sending me off to Paris for a month?”
    He let out a long breath and returned his attention to the book. “I thought you liked Paris.”
    “I do.”
    “I’m giving you my plane and personal pilot. You’ll have no limit in expenses. What is the problem?”
    She frowned. “This sounds too good to be true. That’s what the problem is, Asher.”
    “You’ve been stressed. I thought that you deserved a nice vacation.”
    “Is there anything else going on?”
    He closed the book, kept it to his chest, stood up, and headed out of the library. “Goodnight, Mother.”
    “Why are they cleaning the west wing?”
    “They? Who mother?”
    “The staff, of course. They’re dusting, vacuuming, and all types of things in the west wing of our home.”
    “They’re cleaning that side for you. It’ll be a nice interior design project for you when you get back. I’m hoping to have you work on renovations in that area, after Paris.” He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.
    “You’re lying.”
    “Why would I lie?”
    “Is someone going to stay here?”
    “Why would anyone stay here, Mother?”
    “Do not talk to me like I’m crazy.”
    “I would never do such a thing.”
    “Why do you want me in Paris?”
    “To shop, of course.” He gave a fake yawn and backed away. “Maybe you can focus on finding interesting furniture and art out in Paris. Feel free to have fun. Grab several things. Be bold with your purchases.” He grinned. “Put a nasty dent into our credit cards.”
    She frowned. “You’re hiding something.”
    “There’s nothing to hide, Mother.”
    She spat the next words out with sheer annoyance. “Don’t mother me.”
    “Calm down.”
    “There better not be anything going on under my nose.”
    And with that, his patience withered away into aggravation. He grinned and targeted her with a scary gaze. “Or what? I better not have anything going on under your nose, or what?”
    She glared at him, and he kept a neutral mask on his face. The times of her bossing him around had ceased after he killed the third husband. In those years, she’d taught him one important thing.
    Death solved problems.
    When he was a boy, she could shrill out a demand and he’d fall in line. But, he’d grown, and learned how to take a life and get over it with ease.
    With her fourth husband, she’d seen the cruelty that Asher could execute. By then he was a teenager, he’d captured the old man’s neck with his bare hands, looked into his eyes, and watched the oxygen leave his body. His mother had asked him to kill her husband. She’s claimed he raped her. But in the end, there was never any proof.
    But by then, Asher no longer cared, when it came to murdering her husbands.
    “Asher!” his mother yelled. “Are you paying attention to what I’m saying?”
    He stared at his mother. “I am.”
    “No, you’re not.” She uncrossed her legs as if readying herself to jump up and attack him as she always loved to do.
    I wonder if that