6. Aspen

CHAPTER 6

Aspen

“Ican’t believe we’re here,” Jesse said as we got out of the back of the limo that Crossland had sent over a half hour earlier. He’d flown us to Charleston, unable to travel with us because he’d come out early to help Bristol with a few things before her fashion show.

Cameras flashed in so many directions that you’d think we stepped into a nightclub with a strobe light. A red carpet lined the entryway, reporters and paparazzi and influencers on one side of a velvet rope while celebrities slowly made their way inside the building.

“I can’t either,” I said, unable to deny the surreal feeling washing over me as Jesse proudly took my arm and led me up the red carpet.

Thank God for Jesse. I don’t think I could’ve made this walk by myself.

Crossland had called earlier and mentioned that his sister needed his assistance, some last-minute low-stock fashion emergency, and was sad that he wouldn’t be able to walk me in. But he would meet us inside, and it practically melted my heart when he automatically included Jesse in this invite-only fashion event.

“If anything, this is a good networking event for you,” I said. “Show the industry how you’re a big-time designer too.”

Jesse grinned down at me. “I’m a small fish in a big pond,” he said. “But I like it that way. I enjoy knowing I can hand craft my pieces and drop them whenever I want. It suits me. But, you know I’d never turn down an invitation like this.”

“It’s definitely something, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

I’d met some celebrities at Weston’s wedding last weekend, but I was still starstruck at the amount of A-listers walking ahead of us on the same carpet. I may have felt out of my depth on Crossland’s private jet, but standing here? Smiling for cameras snapping pictures of Jesse and myself—Jesse striking poses that were absolutely model worthy while I did my best to smile and not cross my eyes—I felt like I was on another planet.

There was a literal movie star with a career spanning longer than I’d been alive, walking not six feet ahead of us. He stopped to talk to a reporter and we waited, not wanting to invoke some red-carpet taboo by walking behind someone as famous as him.

Ahead of him, I could see some well-known hockey and football players, lead singers, and other movie stars making their way into the building, not to mention models upon models that I’d seen on magazine covers and reality shows.

At least Jesse belonged here. He owned this vibe and was in the industry. I wouldn’t be surprised if some people in the audience were wearing one of his designs today.

This life was just unreal to me. A life with paparazzi and endless wealth? That only existed in fairy tales, but somehow, I was living right in the middle of one.

Yes, it had a turn me back into a pumpkin deadline, but that was a few months away. For now, I needed to do what Jesse kept telling me to do, which was enjoy the hell out of it while I could. I took a steadying breath, remembering the end game—Brecken would be taken care of after this all ended for me. That’s all that truly mattered.

“Aspen,” Crossland’s voice sounded over the calls of the reporters and the chatter around us as we waited our turn on the red carpet.

I scanned the crowd, finally locking eyes with him as he made his way toward us.

He wore a stunning midnight-black suit, each cut of the fabric made specifically for him, with an ice-blue tie that made his eyes pop. His smile beamed, his trimmed goatee shaping his chiseled features as he locked eyes with me, spotting us on the red carpet.

“You made it,” he said as he finally made it to us. He shook Jesse’s hand before extending an arm toward me.

And I fell under that arm like a magnet pulled me toward him. The move almost effortless now since we’d done it so much at the wedding.

The same wedding where we’d danced and laughed, and where I swore he got jealous when I spoke to that football player from Weston’s team. He’d assured me there was nothing to be jealous of, and I don’t know why those words stung, but they had. I’d quickly forced the small hurt away and chalked it up to my own trauma of not feeling like I belonged or being told I wasn’t worth the fuss while growing up.

Jesse took a calculated step away as reporters called Crossland’s name and asked him who he was with.

I glanced up at Crossland at the same moment he glanced down at me, and it was such an awkward moment that we both started laughing.

“This is my girlfriend, Aspen Reed,” Crossland said without looking at the reporters, holding that irresistible smile of his.

My grin deepened, and my heart expanded despite knowing this was all fake.

But dammit, Crossland said it like he was genuinely proud to have me on his arm.

In reality, he could have any of celebrity or model or heiress on his arm if he wanted. More than one, actually.

But he was here with me.

And regardless of the circumstances, I was going to take that as a win.

After the celebrity ahead of us finished answering questions and moved into the building, Crossland led Jesse and me inside. I breathed a sigh of relief at leaving all the cameras behind.

“You doing, okay?” Crossland asked, leaning down to whisper the question in my ear.

“I’m okay,” I answered honestly. “I’m just not sure I’ll ever get used to that kind of attention.”

Crossland’s smile fell, but he nodded. “I know it can be a hassle,” he said. “Especially when you’re not used to it.” He shrugged. “It does get easier,” he continued. “But it’s never really enjoyable. It’s just something you learn to accept overtime. I find I have a camera-ready mask and an I’m with my inner circle mask. It helps if you can compartmentalize the two.”

I tilted my head as we lingered in the entryway. “If that’s the case, then when are you just Crossland?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his hand settling in the small of my back as we crept forward, the crowds of people bottlenecking into the small entryway as they filed out into the much larger event hall where the fashion show would take place.

“You said you have masks,” I said. “Even with your inner circle. I’m just wondering when you’re simply you?”

“Did I?” he asked, confusion fluttering over his features.

I nodded, feeling sympathetic for the way he had to live his life. Constantly on alert in case somebody was watching or recording, knowing that his reputation, wealth, and family legacy all depended on how he behaved.

“I’m myself with my inner circle,” he finally said. “But it’s not like we live together,” he continued. “We’re not this entourage of chosen family who all dwell on one estate.” He chuckled softly as we moved forward. Jesse tagging along behind us, mingling like he always effortlessly did.

“So, I guess sometimes,” Crossland continued. “Sometimes, I fall into the person who I am when they’re around. And when I’m at home or when I’m with Bristol, I play a different role.”

I nodded, another little piece of the Crossland puzzle revealing itself to me.

“You have to be several versions of yourself,” I said. “Because you want to make sure everyone is getting the version of you they need. The big brother for your sister. The cocky comedic relief for your friends. And the playboy billionaire with a heart of gold for the public.” I gave him a soft smile. “And for me, the employer and guide to all things famous and wealthy.” I stepped a little closer, making sure I looked up at him and caught his eyes as I said the last part. “Who are you at home, Crossland?”

Crossland visibly swallowed, his lips opening and closing a few times.

He looked like I’d punched him in the chest as opposed to asking a simple question, and I realized I didn’t exactly like that look on his face. It made emotion clog my throat. Made an instinct creep up inside me to continue to push him, to pull more pieces of himself out in order to understand him better, in order to help him understand himself better.

The crowd ushered us forward, and Crossland blinked out of his stare. We continued into the main event hall without him answering.

And that was fair. He didn’t owe me anything personal because this wasn’t an actual relationship where that sort of give-and-take was expected. But it didn’t stop me from wondering, and it didn’t stop the pang of empathy for him not even being able to answer it.

I may be a broke barista from Brooklyn, but I was the same person slinging espresso drinks as I was standing here among the rich and famous. I didn’t know how to be anyone else because I’d spent my entire childhood trying to be someone worthy of my parents’ attention until I got older and learned that person didn’t exist. So, I gave up trying to be anyone other than who I was, and it’d worked out so far.

“Where are we sitting?” Jesse asked when Crossland paused, his eyes scanning the sparse open seats on either side of the catwalk that had been placed in the center of the grand room.

The lighting was muted, just enough for us to find our seats and see the other faces filling the crowd.

Crossland took a step toward the left, where he spotted three empty seats, but then he halted.

“We can’t go there,” he grumbled, and I followed his trail of sight to see a gorgeous model glaring daggers at him.

“Why can’t we go there?” I asked, even though I had a good guess.

“I wasn’t open to her proposed adjustment to our arrangement,” Crossland reluctantly answered. He stepped to the right, then stopped again. “Can’t go there,” he said, and I laughed.

“Let me guess,” I said, glancing at the other equally gorgeous woman glaring at him. Actually, there were two this time on the right side. “They wanted to be the ones to change your mind, too?”

“Yep,” Crossland said, shifting gears back to the left.

Jesse chuckled, then pointed to an unreserved single seat that was in the front row. “Can I just take that one?” he asked politely.

“Be my guest,” Crossland answered, waving Jesse forward. “I never take front row seating at my sister’s shows. I never want to take any of the spotlight off of her.”

“That’s considerate of you,” I said, then winked at Jesse as he rushed off to snag the prime seat.

“I can’t tell if the surprise in your tone is a good or bad thing,” he said.

“Good,” I hurried to explain. “I’m realizing I had poor expectations of how billionaires behaved. Every time you surprise me is a good thing.”

“I’m happy to change your perspective,” he said. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Bristol. Speaking of,” he continued, furrowing his brow as he scanned the crowd again. “I figured she’d be out here by now, but she must still be backstage. I’ll introduce you to her after the show, okay?”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” I said, and I really meant that. Crossland wasn’t shy about anything, but he especially loved talking about his sister and how proud he was of her. It was endearing, if not this side of charming, and it was something I could absolutely relate to.

“Crossland,” someone called near the back row on the left side, the crowd shifting just enough to show Gareth, one of Crossland’s friends that I’d had the pleasure of talking to at Weston’s wedding last weekend.

He was an intimidating-looking guy, but fairly easy to talk to after you got over the whole terrifying thing. He lifted his chin once Crossland spotted him, and we both headed that direction.

“Thanks for saving us seats,” Crossland said as we made our way to Gareth. Asher and his fiancée, Daisy—who I’d also met at the wedding—sat on the other side of Gareth. All three of them looked at me a little skeptically as Crossland held my hand to guide our way past them.

“Wouldn’t miss the chance to see you,” Gareth said as we settled into our seats next to him. “Especially when I have to fly out tonight. Thanks for inviting me,” he continued. “I’ve always been a fan of your sister’s clothes. Especially the suits. She makes them so they’re not so damn suffocating.”

Crossland laughed, clapping Gareth on the back before nodding at Asher and Daisy. “I’m grateful you all came,” he said. “It means a lot to Bristol when we show our support. Weston and Brynn only get a pass because they’re off skiing in the Alps for their honeymoon.”

The tight-knit group of friends fell into an easy conversation that I felt I stood just on the outside of.

I tried to give them space despite sitting right next to Crossland, while also being available enough if he wanted me to chime in as a girlfriend would be expected to. I was still trying to figure out exactly how to behave, and the more I thought about it the less natural I felt.

After agonizing over that some more, I decided the best thing to do was to behave exactly as I would if I were really dating Crossland. Yes, it was hard as hell to make my brain believe I’d ever be in a relationship with someone like him—all gorgeous cocky charm and endless wealth—but if I wanted to do this job well, I needed to make myself believe it.

A gentleman in his silver fox era passed behind Crossland’s chair where we sat in the back row and shook his hand in greeting. “Crossland,” he said with enthusiasm. “So glad you could make it. So proud of Bristol. She’s got the hottest line on the market.”

Crossland released the man’s hand and nodded. “I agree with you there,” he said.

The man glanced over at me after nodding to Crossland’s friends, arching a brow.

Crossland shifted in a seat, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “This is Aspen Reed, my girlfriend,” he said. “Aspen, this is Rene Landon. He’s a legendary fashion industry executive.”

“I don’t know about legend, but I don’t mind the sound of it,” Rene said. “Wonderful to meet you.” He extended his hand, and I quickly shook it. “What is it you do, my darling? It must be something fascinating if you’re able to hold down this one’s attention,” he joked, laughing at himself.

“Oh, I…” I said, surprised.

This was one discussion we hadn’t had, and sitting among billionaires and fashion legends, I suddenly had a hard time remembering how to speak. Then I remembered who I was and went with it. “I’m a coffee industry expert,” I said, grinning up at him. It wasn’t a full lie, but the title sounded so much better than barista.

Crossland laughed and cleared his throat at the same time, making it hard for me to not snort as well.

“Coffee expert,” Rene said, eyes washing over me with intrigue. “That’s absolutely fascinating. Do you have your own line of coffee beans that you distribute? I’m always looking for new flavors.”

“Not yet,” I answered, the words rolling off my tongue like I really belonged here, discussing collective empires. Like there was a part of me that had been researching coffee bean distribution for my own business interests.

It wasn’t too far off the mark. I had often dreamed about owning my own shop with a little bookstore connected to it or coming up with something fresher, like a coffee shop, bar, and bookstore. They were just dreams, though. Just like when I was a kid, I used to dream that I would be a rock star drummer.

I had one realistic dream, and that was seeing Brecken achieve her goals of majoring in family law at NYU. She was firmly on that path, and that’s all I could really ask for.

“Well, it was wonderful meeting you,” Rene said, then glanced at Crossland.

“Always a pleasure to see you and your sister’s work. I must go take my seat before the show starts.”

We shifted back in our seats, moving so we could face the stage as the lights dimmed, indicating the start of the show.

Music poured through hidden speakers, filling the room with a booming, exhilarating beat, and soon models strutted confidently down the catwalk, looking almost otherworldly in the beautiful clothes that Crossland’s sister designed.

Each piece had a special cut or theme and it all meshed together so cohesively it felt like getting a personal glimpse of Crossland’s sister without ever actually meeting her.

I leaned closer to Crossland’s ear. “Your sister is brilliant,” I whispered.

Crossland beamed. “She really is.”

We both clapped as one segment faded into another, and with each new model that took the stage, I relaxed a little in the surreal environment. I did my best to not jump in my seat every time I saw someone I recognized from the big screen or social media. Crossland and I even shared an inside-joke moment when I discreetly pointed out the actor who starred in the movie about the human-eating billionaire. And by the end of the show, I almost felt natural at Crossland’s side.

The show transitioned effortlessly into an after party, complete with more music and mingling, drinks, and food.

Jesse already made what looked to be an entire group of new best friends, and it warmed my heart to see him in his element. And as his best friend, I secretly hoped he’d meet some industry connections here, just in case he ever wanted to launch his line on a wider scale.

Crossland made some obligatory rounds, greeting those that he felt needed greeting, and altogether avoiding others. There were several places we couldn’t stop and chat because of past scorned lovers of his. It was actually quite amusing, especially with how apologetic he was about the whole thing.

“Shit,” he said, spinning us back around and making a beeline for where Asher and Gareth talked across the room. “I’m sorry.”

“Cross,” I said, stopping him before we made it to his friends. I took his hand and met his gaze. “You don’t have to keep apologizing to me. I understand you have a past. Sometimes our pasts fill up with things were not proud of. That’s okay. That’s human, and it absolutely has no effect on what I think of you. Okay?”

Crossland stared down at me, his eyes curious and distant. I was half tempted to wave my hand in front of his face to see if he’d decided to take a micro nap with his eyes open. He quickly blinked and gave me a genuine smile that didn’t have his usual mischief shaping it.

“Thank you,” he said, the words wrapped in this deep relief, as if he wasn’t used to that kind of honesty or understanding.

I knew his friends gave him shit about his playboy antics, but was it so bad that he constantly felt like he had to apologize for it? Or was that just for my benefit?

We made our way back over to Asher and Gareth. Daisy was off somewhere speaking to a celebrity that she had a connection with, and I found myself under the scrutiny of two incredibly powerful males.

Weston and Brynn’s wedding had been a whirlwind which hadn’t allowed for a ton of one-on-one time with Crossland’s best friends. Right now, despite the exciting energy of the after party, I felt like I was under the spotlight for the very first time.

I did my best not to show my nerves and hid behind my champagne flute in order to center myself.

Asher motioned to me, his no-nonsense attitude clear in the way he held himself. “I’m really glad to see you again, Aspen,” he said.

Gareth nodded his agreement, and I grinned at them both.

“I’m happy to see you guys again, too,” I said, meaning every word. I genuinely enjoyed chatting with them, and couldn’t help be surprised at how down to earth they were.

“I was worried,” Asher continued.

“Why is that?” Crossland asked.

Asher smiled sheepishly at me, then shrugged. “Well, I try not to get too attached to anyone Crossland dates. You never know when you’re going to see them again.”

“Ah,” I said before Crossland could respond. “Are you getting attached to me, Ash?” I said with an air of familiarity that I probably hadn’t earned yet, but we’d done the chicken dance together at the wedding, so I think that made us on our way to besties.

Gareth had obviously opted out of that dance, but he and I had shared a whiskey at the open bar, and I think I managed to get him to say seven words to me, so I’m sure we were on the bestie track, too.

“I appreciate the way you call Crossland on his bullshit,” Asher said, laughing as he nodded toward his friend. “It’s about time someone did.”

I grinned at that, then nodded toward Crossland, who stood next to me. “You have no idea,” I said, totally buzzing off of the role I was playing. It was just too damn fun to be somebody else for a little while. “I have this one completely wrapped around my finger.”

Gareth snorted, and Asher outright laughed.

Crossland gaped down at me, playfulness flickering over those Arctic blue eyes.

“You do not,” he argued, but there was a wide grin on his face.

“I think I do,” I said, smirking up at him. “After all, you’re the one who keeps whisking me off on these grand adventures without so much as a hint from me.” I turned my attention back to Asher and Gareth, motioning toward Crossland. “He’s quite the romantic,” I said.

They both looked absolutely shocked.

“It’s true,” I continued. “He gets me my favorite tacos whenever I ask. And he never demands anything in return. I think he does it just to make me smile.” I grinned up at him, and he pursed his lips, his features saying he was amused by how thick I was laying it on.

“He sounds like the perfect boyfriend,” Asher said, and I could detect the hint of skepticism in his voice, noting the same look in his eyes as he glanced between the two of us.

Shit. Maybe I was getting a little too carried away. I could tell they weren’t buying it, going as far as looking at Crossland with disappointment. I scrambled for a second, trying to figure out how to dig us out of the hole I’d walked us right into.

Then it dawned on me.

A public display of affection should do the trick.

“He really is the best,” I said.

“You really don’t have to⁠—”

I cut Crossland off, gripping his shirt with my free hand, pulling him down to my level to plant my lips against his.

Sparks shot across my skin, adding to the adrenaline from the role playing. Crossland didn’t react for a second before he took up his designated role and kissed me back. His hand flexed on the small of my back like he might pull me in for more contact, but I tugged myself away, grinning up at him before returning to our conversation.

“I just can’t get enough of him,” I said, patting his chest. “Anyway, where are you off to tonight, Gareth?” I asked, as if I hadn’t just kissed Crossland in front of two of his best friends.

“I have some business in Chicago,” he said without missing a beat.

I quickly realized that there probably wasn’t much that phased Crossland’s intimidating looking friend. Though I definitely didn’t get the violent vibe from him, not in the way my father was violent, but definitely in a way where he could handle himself if the situation arose. That was evident in all of Crossland’s friends. They simply carried themselves in a way that was both mature and composed.

We fell into some easy chitchat, with me carrying most of the conversation. Crossland stayed oddly silent. I kept up the PDA, especially when Asher and Gareth’s skeptic looks lessened with each easy touch. Still, Crossland was quiet, up until the point where Gareth had to leave to catch his flight, and Daisy and Asher left to make a dinner reservation.

The after party was still in full swing, and I’d barely said my goodbyes to Daisy before Crossland pulled me away from the crowd, to where we could hear each other in a darkened alcove of the building.

“What the hell was that?”

“Was I talking too much?” I asked, panic creeping up my spine. “I thought me and your friends were getting along great⁠—”

“You are,” he said, shaking his head. “That kiss. What was that?”

I sighed, the reality of the situation hitting me. “I’m so sorry. I thought that you’d given your consent when we had that discussion on the plane about kissing. And Asher was looking at me like he didn’t believe us, so I thought the kiss would help our story. I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

Crossland blinked a few times, his eyes softening. “No,” he said. “You didn’t cross a line.”

“Did you hate it?” I asked, mortification creeping over my body. God, it’d been quick, but I thought it’d been nice. “I won’t do it again if you disliked it that much⁠—”

“Hate it?” he asked, eyes widening.

“I mean, yeah,” I said, shifting my weight as anxiety clawed up my throat. “I know I’m not usually the girl you go for. If we have to do that again, I can take pointers, but it was just a kiss. Right? It wasn’t a big deal.”

I was rambling now, needing his assurance so he wouldn’t fire me. I needed this job, however unconventional it was.

“You didn’t think it was…” His words trailed off, his demeanor shifting completely as he walked toward me, forcing me to retreat until I hit the wall behind me. “You want pointers?”

“Of course,” I said, looking up at him. My breathing hitched as he leaned one arm on either side of my head.

“First one,” he said, our bodies almost flush. “It was entirely too quick.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, anticipation flaring beneath my skin as he dipped his head and captured my mouth.

The kiss was searing.

Hungry.

Frenzied.

It made me forget everything outside of the way his lips felt against mine.

Instinct swarmed my body, taking over as I slid my hands between his opened suit jacket and smoothed them over his dress shirt, greedily feeling the chiseled chest beneath.

Crossland gently gripped my chin, tipping my head back as he licked into my mouth, the contact making heat pool between my thighs. He teased and flicked his tongue against mine, no hesitance or timidness about it. I whimpered at being handled so confidently, my hands fisting in his shirt as I pulled him closer. He sucked on my bottom lip, and my heart raced. He kissed me like he knew exactly how to make me achy.

He pulled back, eyes wide as they locked with mine.

Our chests heaved, and I couldn’t help but look from his eyes to his mouth again, wanting—no, needing—more.

“Just a kiss,” he said, repeating my earlier words. “No big deal, right?”

What an absolute prick, I thought but couldn’t stop the excited smile from shaping my lips.

A gorgeous, funny, and charming prick.

Fine. Two could play that game.

“Right,” I said, boldly shifting my hips, rolling them ever so slightly, delight sparking beneath my skin at what I felt with his body flush against mine. I glanced down at the lack of space between us before flickering my eyes back up to his. “Definitely no big deal.”

His lips parted, mischief and challenge flashing in his eyes.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice raw and deliciously deep when I wiggled against him again. “You’re playing with fire. The last thing I want is you getting burned.”

I laughed softly, my head spinning with the game we were playing. I reached up on my tiptoes, bringing my lips to the shell of his ear.

“Maybe that’s what I live for,” I whispered, nipping slightly at his earlobe before freeing myself from the cage he’d trapped me in.

I walked away without looking back, totally needing air before I did something tragically stupid…

Like drop to my knees in order to bring Crossland to his.