Ashton’s jaw clenched so hard I thought he might chip a molar.One of his hands twitched, like he was dying to grab me, but playing it cool.I stared at him.He stared back.Neither of us blinked.It was a Mexican standoff, except no one had a gun.The lights had dimmed—had they always been that low?His stupid smart home probably detected horniness and adjusted the mood lighting.I could feel my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, chest pressed to his.He wasn’t saying a word.Neither was I.Both were waiting for the other to make a move first.Pride’s a bitch like that.Then—fine. I cracked first.I shut my eyes, leaned in, lips inches from his, breath ghosting across his skin—His phone rang.I jerked back.Sat up ramrod straight. ‘Um, your phone.’He exhaled like he wanted to strangle someone. ‘Ignore it.’It rang again.And again.He stabbed the screen to hang up, but whoever it was had octopus fingers.The call came back instantly.I glimpsed the name—Cassian Langford.‘Might wan
Next morning, I got up before the sun like a guilt-ridden teenager post-sneak-out.There was no way Ashton hadn’t clocked the whole performance last night, and I was not about to sit across from him at breakfast pretending I was a normal, functional human.So yeah, I tried to dip.Sneaked downstairs, shoes in hand, bag swinging by my side.But guess what?He was already there.Sitting on the sofa like the king of the business world.Watching the news.Calm.Shirt rolled at the sleeves like a casual threat.I nearly yeeted my handbag at his face.‘You’re up early,’ I accused.He looked over, no expression. ‘Where are you going this early?’Busted.I bit my lip, the fake kind of innocent that only works on men who want to be lied to. ‘Yvaine wanted to do breakfast. I’m just gonna... yeah, head out...’I crab-walked towards the door.Then, right when my fingers grazed the handle—‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’My heart dropped straight into my shoes.I froze.Turned.Marched right ba
I walked in a minute later, tipsy, still giggling at some dumb meme Yvaine had just sent me.Something about a guy trying to deep-throat a corn dog and nearly dying for it—quality content.I didn’t think Ashton would still be awake.Definitely didn’t think he’d be sitting dead centre in the living room like some kind of final boss, staring straight at the door.Our eyes met.Shit.My grin froze.I snapped the phone shut too hard and wobbled sideways, pressing my fingers to my temples.‘Drank way too much,’ I mumbled. ‘Gonna crash. Nightttt...’I staggered like my knees had melted, clinging to the bannister like it owed me rent.Giving him a wide berth, I dragged my feet up the stairs, feeling his stare right up my spine.Don’t look back.Don’t trip.Don’t break character.The second I made it to the bedroom, I shut the door behind me like I’d just outrun a serial killer.I jumped straight into the shower and let the water blast me.‘Damn it.’ I thudded my forehead against the ceramic
The CEO’s office was silent except for the knock on the door.Dominic Everett stepped in, carrying a folder thick enough to strangle someone with. ‘Mr Laurent, this is everything on Nyx Collective.’He placed it on the desk.Ashton picked up the folder, flipping through it without a word.With each page, his jaw set a little tighter.By the time he hit the middle, the muscle under his cheekbone was pulsing.So that was what Mirabelle had been dealing with.Petty backstabbing.Undercut by her own team.Screamed at in meetings by people who couldn’t carry her shoes.‘Fucking hell,’ he muttered.He leaned back in his chair, report still in hand, fingers tapping against one name.‘This Rexford Caldwell—why does that sound familiar?’‘He runs Titan Growth Fund, which invests in Nyx Collective, but he’s not involved in the studio’s day-to-day running. He asked to meet you last week, but your schedule was full.’‘Right.’ Ashton rubbed his chin. The name clicked now. ‘Tell him I’ll make time.
The next night, we kicked off the rehearsal over dinner.Ashton sent the staff away at my insistence.Then, instead of sitting across from me as usual, he slid into the seat beside mine, like we were already at his grandfather’s party playing the happy couple.He pointed out where people would be sitting, who I needed to watch, which uncle faked being vegetarian to impress his green-juice-obsessed wife but secretly smashed steaks like a cave troll, and which one nearly blew up a construction site because—get this—he thought a pile of dynamite looked ‘fun’.Also, there was a cousin who might come for my throat because Ashton had apparently gotten her arrested for reckless driving.It was the most he’d talked to me since this whole thing started.And even though his tone was all dry and matter-of-fact, the stuff he said was… weirdly funny.I found myself loosening up and even occasionally cracking a laugh.The rehearsal continued after dinner.By then, I’d accepted my fate.It was just
Ashton’s hand moved in slow, careful strokes against my back, and after a couple of minutes that felt like twenty, my spine finally stopped trying to eject itself.Weird detail to notice, but I liked how soft his shirt was.And how he smelled—clean, expensive, with a faint, woody edge that calmed me down without making a show of it.I liked it.And I was starting to like the hug, too.It was just beginning to feel cosy until Ashton opened his mouth.‘Still too stiff. If you’re this awkward with me when no one else is around, you’ll never fool the people at the party.’Excuse me?I thought I’d already relaxed enough.If I were any more relaxed, I’d be in a bloody coma.What was wrong with the hug? Not intimate enough?I tightened my arms around him like I was trying to crack his ribs, then buried my face deeper into his chest.And accidentally breathed right into his pec.His shirt warmed up instantly.Fantastic. Now my embarrassment had body heat.He spoke again, low and close: ‘You’r