17. Selma

seventeen

Selma

"Move your feet to the left," Ashton instructed the model-slash-influencer in front of the backdrop as he held his camera close to his left eye. "Just a little more to the left. Alright. Chin up."

The model followed his instructions, her body twisting in a manner that highlighted the piece's essence. In his element, Ashton was a force to reckon with. He had a clear vision and was an expert at painting the image for all to see. I had no doubts he would do justice to my new line.

My designs were almost finished. Some already were. My dressmakers had been working night and day to meet the deadline so all my pieces could be ready for unveiling at Fashion Week in October.

That also brought me to another milestone: publicity. Maria had been helping me reach out to influencers with a wide social media presence, which did not come cheap because I was paying out my nose. The media had slowly picked up, talking about how I was making a comeback into the fashion industry. Some days, the blogs were mean, while other days, they were meaner.

Like Maria said, there was no such thing as bad publicity. Our unveiling strategy consisted of two methods: lookbooks and collaborations. The lookbooks would come later, once the entire unveiling had been finalized, but for now, we would be working with the influencers I'd hired to market my designs.

One of said influencers was currently being captured by Ashton, who was doing a fantastic job of making me look like a genius. I reminded myself to reward him for that later.

Speaking of rewards… Ashton and I had been having a lot of sex lately. If I weren't already pregnant, I certainly would be by now. He was insatiable, and yet I couldn't find it in me to be anything but flattered that my body drove him crazy with need.

We still hadn't spoken about the baby, and I was already two months gone. Soon, I'd start showing. While I didn't mind being pregnant, the thought of launching my designs with a baby bump visible for the whole world to see did not appeal to me. I was already a hot topic for the blogs, and finding out I was pregnant would make me the talk of the year.

Other than my mother and Maria, no one else besides Ashton knew about the baby, and I preferred to keep it that way. Once this was completed and my goals met, I would take a little vacation to some island in a different country and have the baby there.

A small part of me wished that Ashton could be with me, holding my hand as I fought through the woes of labor. But if wishes were horses, then every fucking person would ride. Besides, I meant what I said about raising the baby alone. We might be fuck buddies, or whatever the hell we were, but that was it. Nothing more.

I was done with men—with love in general, actually—and Ashton didn't want attachments. He'd made that more than clear.

And it wasn't like I wanted him that way anyway. As I said, I was done with men. Plus, I refused to bring my baby into this world under the same circumstances that I had come into. All that negative energy was too toxic, and I would be damned if I let it affect my baby's mental health as it did mine.

Maria approached me to discuss some of her ideas. After reviewing her Instagram followers, I decided to put her in charge of handling my publicity. Not only did this save me from spending a ridiculous amount on a publicist, but any other publicist I would hire would not have a million Instagram followers.

I nodded as we discussed it, though, from the corner of my eyes, I saw Ashton engaged in what appeared to be a casual discussion with the model even as he captured her. He grinned at her, and the model giggled—She actually giggled. Watching him interact so effortlessly with her stirred a tumult of emotions within me.

I recognized the more prominent one for what it was. Jealousy, sharp and biting, reared its ugly head, clawing at the edges of my composure. Why was Ashton being overly friendly with her? It didn't seem very professional if you asked me. Why wouldn't he just do his job?

"Selma?"

I dragged my gaze back to Maria, who was staring back at me with a frown on her face.

"Selly, are you listening to me?" she asked.

"Hmm? Yes. Yes. I am."

"What was the last thing I said?"

I blinked. "Uh…that you have very pretty eyes?"

Maria heaved out a breath, her jaw set. "I don't appreciate you zoning out during important conversations. What are you even looking at?" She swung her head in the direction my gaze had been in, and it didn't take long for understanding to dawn on her. "Ahh. Careful there." She turned to face me. "Your jealousy is showing."

I snarled at her. "I'm not jealous. That's absurd."

"Is it? You look like you're this close to marching over there and sawing her head off for even looking in his direction."

"Maria, stop it." I didn't know if I was angry at myself for feeling jealous and letting it show or at Maria for noticing and voicing it out loud.

"I don't know what you're getting so worked up over. It's normal to feel jealous when you like someone." Maria shrugged, oblivious to the fact that I was this close to strangling her if she didn't shut the fuck up.

"For the last time, I do not like him, and I am not jealous," I said, a little too loudly, because the bustling studio suddenly quieted, and every eye turned to us.

Angry and flustered, I stormed out, marching to my office. What the hell was happening to me? It wasn't possible that I was liking him, was it? I mean, the sex was great, the best I'd ever had, actually, but good dick didn't matter if there was no depth.

I barged into my office, slamming the door so hard that it almost ripped off its hinges. I would be lying if I said Ashton lacked depth. He was the most passionate man I'd ever been with, and I wasn't just talking about the bedroom. Anyone who knew him would know how much he loved photography.

It was like in those few moments when he got to hold a camera and peer over at his subject, he came alive. The kind of electricity that left you no choice but to burn, igniting every fiber of your being with a sense of purpose and excitement. The type of passion I felt while creating designs.

That aside, I admired him. For someone who'd grown up under such unfavorable conditions, he'd done very well for himself. It takes a certain kind of strength to rise vehemently, especially when the odds are against you. And he wasn't bitter. Maybe a bit of a dick, but nothing too extreme. My point is he didn't blame life for dealing him disadvantageous cards. Instead, he'd taken the cards and turned them into a royal flush.

So, did I like him? Probably.

Yes, in fact. But it wasn't wise. Sleeping with him didn't help at all.

The door to my office burst open, and Ashton came barreling in, looking frantic.

"What's wrong, peaches? What happened?" he asked, his eyes searching my face as he shut the door behind him.

Given my realization, I didn't think being alone with him in the same room was the smartest idea. In truth, Ashton scared the fuck out of me. The kind of power he held over me was petrifying.

I swallowed, shaking my head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

The deep furrows of his brows told me he wasn't convinced. "Are you sure? You seemed pretty upset."

"I'm fine," I said through gritted teeth, hoping he'd drop it. My gaze dropped. I couldn't look at him. It was too much. "We have to get back out there. With both of us gone, people might suspect something."

"Maybe that you were jealous?"

I snapped my gaze to look at him, and to my absolute horror, he was grinning. I immediately became defensive. "That's the dumbest thing you've ever said. Why would I be jealous?"

His grin only spread wider. "I didn't say anything. You just said it all."

I cursed my stupid mouth for not knowing when to shut the fuck up. "You're delusional."

"No, today is Monday. I'm only delusional on Wednesdays. On Mondays, I'm delightful."

He took one menacing step forward, causing me to take one back. The look in his eyes told me that he was up for a game of cat-and-mouse, which would undoubtedly end with me either writhing against or under him.

I held out a hand to stop him even as I took another step back. "Ashton, stop it. We're in the office."

His gaze darkened. "Then maybe you should try to be quiet, yeah?"

My blood heated at the insinuation, and my thighs instinctively clenched. At times like this, I hated Ashton's control over my body. We'd never done it in my office before. We were always waiting, building up the suspense until we crossed the threshold of my apartment.

As a rule, I made sure to never enter his apartment. It felt too intimate, too frightening. I preferred we had all the sex we wanted in my place as some sort of defense, so if the time ever came for anyone to leave, it would not be me. Because truthfully, I couldn't stand the feeling of rejection. Of having to go back to my apartment every morning feeling like a young adult sneaking out of her one-night stand's bedroom, never to be seen again.

The only slight difference was that I saw my one-night stand every fucking day.

"Don't touch me, Ashton," I said weakly, my back hitting the door.

Shit. I was trapped. Thinking quickly, my hands searched for the knob, but Ashton was faster, closing one hand over mine.

He pouted, dropping my hand to twist the key inside the lock. "You don't mean that. Do you? You'll hurt my feelings."

"I mean it." But I didn't sound convincing even to my own ears. Seriously, it was pathetic how much power he held over my body, and it terrified the fuck out of me. When would he not? when would I have my fill of him, and he wouldn't affect me so damned much?

"Okay," he said with a nod, entering my personal space and permeating the air with his spicy scent. "Let's play a game."

He suddenly flipped me around so that my cheek was pressed against the wooden door, his hot breath fanning my ear and sending shivers through my body.

"I'm going to touch you somewhere. Anywhere of my choice. And if you don't moan or make any sound, I'll let you go." His arousal dug into my lower back. "Deal?"

"Ashton," I whispered, his words making my pussy weep.

"Deal, peaches?" He licked the lobe of my ear, and I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from moaning. There was no way I was letting him win.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," I gritted out, horrified that my underwear was so soaked I could smell myself. And I was willing to bet that he could too, the asshole.

"I'll take that as a yes."

If anyone asked me where I thought the first place Ashton would touch, I'd have said my pussy. He would have dipped just one finger inside me, discovered how wet I was, and won the game. But I didn't expect him to slip his palm up my shirt and cover my stomach with it.

Caught off guard by the sudden electrifying intimacy, I let out a gasp, and immediately following was the shrilling realization that I'd lost the bet.

Ashton's low chuckle rumbled around us, and I opened my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself when his hands suddenly lifted my skirt up to bunch the fabric at my waist, hooked a finger into the thin fabric of my panties to push them to the side and entered me in one quick thrust.

Unlike the other times when he entered me, he didn't give me time to adjust to his massive size. Ashton stretched me impossibly and, almost as quickly, adopted a merciless rhythm that had me sobbing.

"Shhh," he cooed into my ear. "You don't want your employees to hear you taking my cock, do you?"

I pressed a hand to my mouth, arching my back to take as much of him as possible. His thrusts were short and quick, driving me to that edge of no return. My cries were swallowed by my hand, and I prayed to God no one was behind that door because I was not doing a very good job of keeping quiet.

Wrapping a hand around my pelvis, he grunted. "Admit it." Thrust.

The pressure of his arm pressing down on my pelvis had me wailing. I felt every inch of him. I released my hand from my mouth wide enough to reply. "Admit…what?"

Thrust. "That you were jealous." Thrust.

Biting my lower lip, I squeezed my eyes shut at the sensations that rippled through me. "You're talking nonsense…ah…"

Another thrust. "Stop being stubborn and fucking admit it."

I had no idea what Ashton did with his hips just there, but it caused me to shudder and let out a scream, his hand covering my mouth as I spasmed against him. Trails of fire rippled through me, and I fisted my hands so tightly that my knuckles bleached white.

Ashton held me to his body, his thrusts increasing to a brutal pace before he groaned harshly behind me, squirting his seed inside me. When the world righted, I opened my eyes slowly, heaving out a breath.

"Fuck." Ashton pulled out of me slowly, and I heard vague movements behind me. "Spread your legs, peaches."

I did, my chest heaving. A second later, I felt a soft cloth swipe between my thighs twice. Then he rearranged my skirt, pushing it down to its previous position. It was already rumpled, but nothing that I couldn't fix.

My tongue swiped out to lick my lips, and I tasted lipstick. Turning around to face him, I found his eyes already on me, watching me with that intensity that left me feeling utterly exposed.

We couldn't keep doing this, I thought. It was complicated.

"Ashton—"

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't the truth, then save it."

A tiny burst of anger exploded inside me. "What the fuck do you want me to say? That I'm jealous of some young girl because you were laughing and talking with her like you are best friends?"

He gave me a wry smile. "You and I both know that it's true. It doesn't matter how much you deny it."

"Fine." I threw my hands up. "Alright then. Yes, I was jealous. But Jesus Christ, can't you see that it doesn't make sense?"

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because!" I exhaled, this close to pulling out my hair. How was I the only one thinking clearly in this situation?

"This," I gestured between us. "Whatever this is, it is temporary. And after last time, I'm not interested in pursuing anything with a man."

He blinked, narrowing his eyes like I'd just insulted him. "Wait a fucking minute. Surely, you…you can't be comparing me to your pussy of an ex."

I let out a sigh. "Let's stop having sex."

"I don't want to," he replied matter-of-factly.

My nostrils flared in anger. "Well, too bad. If a few minutes of pleasure is all it takes to blind you to the fact that we are not compatible, then that's your problem. I can see things clearly, and I'm telling you it's done."

He ground his jaw, looking away for a second before his gaze darted back to mine. "A few minutes of pleasure? Is that what you're going to call what we've been doing these past few weeks? You're a fucking coward, Selma, and I can assure you one day, that stony exterior you're hiding behind will fall apart. People will finally see you for what you really are: empty."

Okay. That stings. Way more than it should have.

I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the prickling behind my eyes at a minimum. I would not cry in front of him.

"Thank you, Ashton, for reassuring me that my decision to keep you away from my child was the right one. Thank you so much."

It was the first time the subject of the baby and having custody was coming up in two weeks.

He scoffed, his lips twisting into a snarl. "The heavens will fall before I let you win that battle, Selma. The heavens will fucking fall."

"Then be prepared for Hell, because they will."

"You do not want to fight me on this. It's not a warning, Selma."

Fury gnawed at the frayed edges of my restraints. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

With one step, he closed the distance between us. He was so close to me that a pin couldn't pass between us.

"I'll do you one better, peaches," he snarled. "Fuck around and find out."

And then he brushed past me harshly and walked out of my office. I stood there for a few minutes, my chest heaving with furious breaths.

Threatening me? Who did he think he was to make demands regarding my child? This baby was no one else's but mine, and I would be damned if I allowed Ashton McCall to do to it what my father did to me.

The inconsistency, broken promises, and withered hopes—a childhood of merciless disappointments and ephemeral expectations—never. The cycle began and ended with me. I would do everything in my power to make sure it didn't happen to my child.

The door burst open, and Maria came flying in, her eyes glued to her phone. "Selly, oh my God. You have to see this."

"What is it?" Interest suddenly piqued, I peered into her phone and gasped. "Well, fuck."

My name was right there, on the list of celebrities who were to attend the Soraa Gala, the biggest and most exclusive fundraising and networking event in the United States.