22. Ashton

twenty-two

Ashton

Very few times in my life have I felt genuine anger. Years of therapy and yoga as a young adult had taught me that anger was like a knife. All it did was twist deeper the more it was fed with fuel and inadvertently hurt the person wielding it.

So, instead of bursting out in anger at the world, I'd settled for fighting my battles behind a lens where I could create my own emotions—even anger—if I chose. Photography was my safe haven. Nothing in this world gave me as much satisfaction as holding a camera in my hand.

Right now, however, staring at the text message I just got on my phone, I wanted to burst out in anger. Scream. Punch something. Someone. And I had a fucking good idea who.

After yesterday's debacle, Maria sent everyone home while I took Selma back to my place. She was in no condition to continue the shoot, and what was there to continue anyway? The entire world had seen her designs before she was ready to unveil them.

I'd been worried out of my mind at how still she'd gone. Like a fucking statue. Not even a blink during the first minute. The drive back to my apartment had involved some shouting, almost screaming on my end, and chilling silence on hers. Not one word had come out of her mouth.

But most of all, I'd been scared. Scared that she would fall into a bottomless pit that no one would be able to bring her out of. Frightened to my bones that this time would be the icing on the fucking cake. I was absolutely terrified that she would give up.

Because giving up was as good as losing. And I wanted her to win, goddamnit.

That thought had me driving like a lunatic to the address that just popped up on my screen. With Maria looking after Selma for the time being, I had enough time to attend this fucking meeting, deal with the problem and go back to her.

The restaurant was obviously expecting me because as soon as I stepped into the dim room, a waiter signaled for me to follow him. I didn't even have to drop a name. He recognized me as soon as he saw me. Perks of being famous.

The waiter led me through a narrow hallway to an elevator, gesturing for me to enter after pressing the button to the rooftop. I cracked my neck to ease some of the tension flowing through my body, preparing myself for the unknown.

The only reason I was even humoring the moron was so I could get some information out of him. I swear, if I heard any bullshit about love, I would sucker punch the fucker and walk out.

The elevator opened, and I stepped out. The first thing I noticed was that it was empty. There was no one here. Instead, I was greeted by twinkling fairy lights strung delicately across the wooden pergolas, casting a warm and inviting glow over the space.

I scoffed. What was this supposed to be, a romantic dinner?

I walked further into the space, sighing exasperatedly at the large plush cushions and cozy throws that were scattered on wrought-iron loungers adorned with delicate lace—

"What the hell is this?" I exclaimed, balling my fists. "Are we supposed to kiss or something? 'Cause I have something your face would rather suck on, and I'll give you a little hint: It's my fucking fist."

A laugh resonated from somewhere behind me. I turned in search of the voice, my mouth suddenly turning sour. All I wanted to do was wipe that fucking smile off his face, but I wouldn't put it past his devious mind to have cameras hidden somewhere in case I attacked him. He was, after all, in the business of ruining people's careers.

"Aw, come on. Loosen up so that stick up your ass can fall out." Alex walked toward me, then past me to sit on a chair. I swung my head to follow his movements, not trusting him to not have a knife ready to stab me in the back.

"Come on. Sit," he urged.

Holding in my anger, I sat down on the chair opposite him. "Why did you ask me to come here?"

"Don't you like the ambiance?" he asked, helping himself to the bottle of white wine on the table. "I had the place done up just nice for you."

I clenched my fists underneath the table to keep myself from reaching out and grabbing his neck and strangling him. "You have five seconds before I walk out of here."

"Fine. I'll keep my shit brief. Come work for me."

"Like I said, I don't work with frauds."

Alex smiled. "Frauds, legits, honestly, who gives a fuck?"

"I do," I said matter-of-factly. "I give plenty of fucks who I work with , in case they have any dirty laundry that could be washed outside and potentially destroy my image."

He took another sip of his wine, watching me closely. It was interesting to see how arrogant he was. He obviously had an inflated sense of importance, and I wondered if he knew I was a bigger dick than he was. If he didn't, I had no qualms with showing him.

"Then what are you doing with Selma? I read the news today. Another one of her linens has just been washed in front of the entire world. Does that classify as destruction to your image?"

I clenched my jaw. He was baiting me, and I would not give him the satisfaction of falling into his trap.

"Is that why you didn't put out my name along with hers?" I demanded. "So you could convince me to work with you?"

He chuckled low, falling back against the chair with one hand on the table, the other resting on his thigh. The perfect picture of laziness. "Funny story, actually. I didn't have to do much. Rosie did everything. Who keeps a secret pregnancy test on the table where anyone could see it?"

There it is. The reason I'd come. I tucked that tiny piece of useful information at the back of my mind and faced him.

"Tell me something," I said. "Did you ever love her?"

"Probably." He shrugged. "Right up to the point where she began to shrink me to make herself feel bigger."

I scoffed, looking away from him for a brief second. "Did you ever stop to consider the fact that you're just a really small man in here?" I tapped my temple mockingly. "Think about it. Selma never made you believe she never had barbs. You were so fascinated by the rose, so quick to pick it up and make it yours that you never thought to stop and look at it."

"Are you a poet as well as a photographer? That is the sappiest shit I've ever heard."

"I don't expect a cactus like you to understand what loving a woman entails."

Alex guffawed. "And you do? It must not mean much, given that you're attracted to the masculine type. Tell me, who does the fucking between you two? You or her?"

Anger gripped me like a vice. I was holding the volcano brewing inside me from erupting because I knew that once it did, there would be no holding it back. Ironic that yesterday, I was the one dissuading Selma from choosing violence.

"Keep running your mouth, and your face and my fist will make an acquaintance very soon," I promised.

"Aw, did I make you angry?"

"You don't deserve a woman like Selma, not when you're a useless, uncreative piece of shit who goes around stealing people's ideas because he's too dumb to come up with anything original," I snarled. "She's five times the woman your little girlfriend will ever be and double that of the person you'll ever become."

His nostrils flared at that, the first indication he'd shown tonight that he was angry. A shot of satisfaction spread through me. It fell when he suddenly rearranged his features, the smile reappearing. "Come work for me, Ashton. Alris would be happy to have you. Iris and I are doing some magical shit up there. Better than whatever the fuck Selma's got going on at Volkov."

Was he nuts? Why would he think I would humor him after what he'd done to her? The nerve of this man had to be studied. I was done listening to his shit. He'd played his hand, and now it was my turn.

Standing to my feet, I straightened my jacket and looked down at him. "I'll try to phrase this so it doesn't hurt your feelings. You annoy the ever-living fuck out of me, and the thought of seeing you every day makes me want to walk on hot charcoal. Barefoot."

He stared at me with anger dancing in his eyes, and he was still giving me death glares when I walked away from him, a humorless smile gracing my lips. I would make him eat his words. No matter the cost.

When I reached the elevator, I pressed the down button and turned to face him. "One more thing. If you do anything else to further ruin her reputation or stop her new collection from being released, then I swear to fuck, I will dedicate the rest of my life to making sure your brand dies a painful death, just like you tried to do to her. And you don't want to go head-to-head with me. I'm more well-known than you are, and I'm not above petty tricks to take you down."

Alex's eyes bore into mine as he lifted his chin. "I call your bluff."

The grin that stretched my lips could only be described as devilish. I made a show of walking into the open elevator before meeting his eyes just as the doors were about to close. "Fuck around and find out, sugar."