24. Ashton

twenty-four

Ashton

She expected me to leave.

To walk away and protect my public image so I didn't get dragged down with her.

And she wasn't wrong. I should leave. I'd worked so hard to build myself to where I am today, had put in the work and the finances to see myself through school where I'd majored in photography. And when I'd gotten accepted into a fellowship program in London to study with the best of the best, I'd been so fucking proud of myself that I'd called Milo on the phone and cried for over two hours because I couldn't believe that I'd done it.

So, yes. Being here with her, or even being seen with her, was detrimental to my reputation.

But I'd decided long ago that I could live with losing my public image. While I would admit that it was a huge part of who I was, it was not fully me. I had been the one to work for it, and if the time ever came again when I had to build anew, I would. Because my work spoke for itself.

What I couldn't bring myself to decide, however, was if I could live without Selma. These past few months with her had been some of the best of my life, even when we were at odds. I lived to see her face every day, I lived to taste her, and I fucking lived to love her.

She was everything that was and everything that was to come. She consumed me in her entirety, and I couldn't imagine a life where she wasn't in it. Where she wasn't carrying my child.

So how was I supposed to live without her?

I placed my hand on her stomach, feeling her jolt under my touch. She carried a part of me inside her, a part that I would never get back, nor did I want to. A part of both of us that I already loved before I even saw it.

"It's been eight weeks." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she stared down at the place our skin connected. "I'll start showing soon."

And then everyone will know that the blogs didn't lie. She didn't say it out loud, but I heard the remainder of the sentence.

Fuck the media, and fuck Alex.

"Have I told you that I'm happy you're carrying my baby?" I said.

Our eyes locked, and she sucked in a shaky breath as if she wanted to protest. Eventually, she swallowed down whatever it was she wanted to say before shaking her head.

"Well, I am," I added before getting to my feet. "And you look beautiful. Come on. Let's get you in the tub."

She stood, letting me guide her toward the inviting, warm water. She got in, sinking down and letting out a moan as the water surrounded her, rising just above her breasts. "Oh, that feels good."

I bit back a smile at the absolute look of pleasure on her face, letting my eyes roam over her lithe form. I could see her dark rosy nipples peeking out from under the water, and my cock stirred in my pants. I mentally scolded it, but it flipped me the bird. Literally.

Adjusting my pants so it wouldn't be visible, I sat on the side of the tub. "Water hot enough?"

She nodded, her eyes hooded. Then, as if she just realized something, her eyes snapped open to me. "Aren't you getting in? There's enough space for two."

I shook my head. "We both know there will be no bathing if I get in, and I want you to enjoy this."

Besides, she was vulnerable right now, and the last thing I wanted to do was take advantage of her. No matter how much I wanted to bury myself inside her.

Clearly not satisfied, she nodded, nonetheless. "Alright."

I rolled my sleeves up my arm. "Turn around and lean back. Let me wash your hair."

She smiled sheepishly and did as I instructed, leaning her head backward to give me access. I grabbed my shampoo bottle from the rack, squirted some creamy liquid into my palms, rubbed them together, and massaged it into her wet hair.

She released a low groan, and the sound traveled straight to my already hard cock, making it strain painfully against my zipper. I hissed, trying to focus on my task. Lather began to foam when Selma let out a high-pitched moan.

"Selma peaches," I growled, working overtime to calm my marauding erection.

"Yeah?" she sighed.

"I'm going to need you to stop distracting me."

"How?" she asked innocently before realization dawned on her. "Oh," she murmured. "Sorry."

I gently massaged her scalp with the tip of my fingers. "All good, baby."

A long silence passed as I continued to wash her hair before she spoke again. "Earlier. Where did you go?"

I'd hoped to keep this part from her. I didn't want her to overthink my meeting with Alex, and I didn't want to break her heart further than it was already broken. But she would eventually find out, and if she found out that I knew about it and left her in the dark, she would be angry at me.

"I went to see Alex," I said.

She tensed beneath my fingers, her body stiffening.

I gave her time to swallow down her shock before continuing. "He invited me."

It took a couple of seconds before she responded. "Why?"

"He tried to get me to work for him."

"So, basically, he asked you to abandon Volkov?"

"Yeah."

The words hung in the air, and I could almost predict her next question. A couple of seconds passed before she gave it a voice.

"And what was your response?" Her words were small and wobbly, and I couldn't tell if it was due to the heat of the water or if she was close to tears.

A sharp shot of anger went through me. What was it with Selma and believing I wouldn't stick around? Was it a trauma thing? What experience had twisted her mind so terribly that she didn't think any man could stay with her? Her father or Alex? Or had there been someone else?

Deciding I was done washing her hair, I grabbed the faucet, turned it to full blast, and began to rinse off the lather. Unlike the storm brewing inside me, it fell down her back and flowed easily into the water.

"I'm still here, aren't I?" I reminded her.

"For now." The words were so small, so tiny that for a split second, I thought I'd almost imagined it.

It was one thing to love someone, but it was another to convince them you did. Selma didn't seem very much like she wanted to be convinced. If my being here with her despite everything wasn't enough, I doubted mere words would do the trick.

Once I finished the task, I stood to my feet, wiping my wet hands on a towel hanging on the rack. "I'll be in the room. Come out when you're done."

I didn't wait for a response, but she didn't offer one. My bones tightened in fury as I closed the bathroom door behind me. I wanted to kill Alex. Bash his face into a wall for reducing a strong woman to a whispering mess who wasn't confident enough to believe that someone could actually love her and fucking stay .

God. How could she not see what I see? How could she be blind to how amazing she was? I was a big man, but she managed to reduce me to bones and ashes with just one look. One fucking look and I would gladly fall to my knees and worship her.

But all of that was useless if she didn't believe it. And for the life of me, I didn't know how else to show her without plucking my heart out and handing it over to her.

In the meantime, I had to think up a solution. Anything at all to turn this around. I couldn't let Alex win, but most importantly, I couldn't just sit back and watch everything Selma had worked for disappear like smoke.

The bathroom door opened and closed, filling the room with her intoxicating presence. She walked further into the room, and though I couldn't hear her footsteps, I could feel her clouding my senses. She smelled like my shampoo, the fresh scent of eucalyptus and mint permeating the air.

"Thank you…uh, for the bath," she murmured behind me, and I turned to face her, taking in the sight of her body wrapped in a towel.

The white material only got to her upper thighs, leaving the rest of her legs exposed and inviting. The round fullness of her breasts was visible, staring at me and mocking me as though daring me to close the distance between us.

Looking away, I swallowed down a ball of saliva, fire stirring in my loins. I doubted there would ever come a time when Selma's body did not excite me. She was absolutely breathtaking.

"All good. How do you feel?" I asked.

She nodded, going to sit at the edge of the bed. "Much better, actually."

I nodded, my feet planted to the ground. She might have been able to relax for a moment in a bath, but that didn't mean she wouldn't have to face reality soon.

"What if—and this is a big if—we took a different approach with the designs?"

Her brows snapped together, her torso twisting in my direction. "How do you mean?"

"The entire concept behind the designs is moral inclusivity, right? And that's a fucking excellent idea, but now that the entire world had seen them before the unveiling, they're useless. But—" I paused, going to sit next to her. "What if we changed the concept and tweaked the designs a little?"

Selma crossed her arm under her breasts, causing the towel to loosen slightly, temporarily distracting me. "Go on", she said.

I dragged my attention back to her face. "Right. So, what if we go from moral inclusivity to sexual inclusivity?"

Excitement buzzed inside my veins. Most jobs I'd taken were not very challenging. All I had to do was come in, take some amazing pictures, grab my paycheck, and go. Now, however, I was deeply involved in the design process, and it felt fucking good.

"Instead of designing for women to feel comfortable in their bodies," I explained, "you design for women to feel comfortable in their sexuality."

"Prioritizing sexual appeal over comfort and practicality."

I smiled. "Exactly."

I could see the gears in her head running and the excited glint sparkling in her eyes as she pondered over my suggestion. It was a reach, and fucking daring because there had never been anything like this before in the industry. No one designed clothes and thought of "normal" women to model them. Being thin was a prerequisite to succeed in this world.

"It's a stark contrast from the original idea," Selma remarked. "And there's no guarantee that it will work."

"But it's worth a shot," I argued. "It's an innovative market strategy. This way, you'd reposition your brand in the eyes of the public and let them know that while you took a hard punch, you're not down yet."

"I don't know, Ashton," she protested, looking away. "I mean, I've never thought about sex while designing before."

"There's a first time for everything," I objected, suddenly thinking of Rose. "By the way, I know who leaked the designs."

She jerked her face to me, her eyes flashing. "I thought it was Alex."

"Yes, but he didn't do it directly. It was your assistant. I always knew there was something off about her."

A look of hurt flashed past her face as she gave a bitter laugh. "I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?" She ran a hand through her wet hair roughly, and I almost stopped her because she looked very close to ripping the locks out. "How did you find out?"

"Alex and his blabbering mouth. I'm not even sure he meant to say it, but he doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. He called her ‘Rosie,' so my guess is that they're close."

"And the pregnancy leak, too? Was it her?"

I nodded. "Looks like it."

"I'm such an idiot," she sighed, pressing her index and middle finger to her temple. "I left the stupid test on the table for everyone to see."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know this would happen. Alex is a snake."

Selma nodded absentmindedly and seemed to drift away in thought. I knew she was hurt, no matter how much she tried to hide it. First, it had been an intern-slash-cousin; now, it was her assistant. She was undoubtedly wondering who to trust and who not to trust. I hated that someone she once loved had thrust her into this situation, but now it was my responsibility to bring her out of it.

For her and my child.

"You'll have to pay more attention to your security measures," I said. "Considering the recent leak, I think it's time for you to upgrade your digital safeguards. This means you must limit staff access to sensitive information and conduct regular audits to identify and address potential vulnerabilities."

Selma's gaze fell to the floor. She shook her head from side to side as if trying to understand how it could have come to this again from someone she trusted, someone she wouldn't have considered.

"She doesn't look the type," Selma said. "She was hardworking, honest, and meticulous to a fault."

"Believe me when I tell you this, wolves rarely look like wolves when donned in sheep's clothing. You could always sue her for leaking company secrets."

She shook her head. "There's no point in that. It'll only increase public speculation."

I thought the same thing. "And I'm glad we are of one mind on that. You can inform Maria about how to deal with her. Considering how much of a force Maria is, we can trust her to handle this perfectly. Make sure Rose never works in the industry again."

Selma's gaze again fell. When she looked up at me, I could see she was torn between choices. The last thing I wanted for her was to give up. She'd spend the rest of her life feeling miserable and inadequate if she did, and she would also spend the rest of her life feeling miserable and inadequate if she tried again and failed.

There had to be a lesser evil.

"What do I do, Ashton?" she whispered, as I inched closer to her so that our sides would press together.

Taking her cheek in one hand, I softly pressed my lips to hers. "Don't allow it to reduce you to ashes."

Her sigh fanned my face. Then she exhaled and seemed to think about it before nodding. "I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Let's do this."

My grin was so wide that I thought it would split my face into two. "That's my girl."

The following two weeks were spent in Selma's office, developing new designs. I had no idea if having sex was part of the design process or if she was just horny all the time, but I didn't complain and whipped out my cock every time she requested it.

It helped because her creative juices flowed as quickly as the ones between her legs. I gave her space when she needed it so as not to crowd her, instead working on repairing her bruised public image with Maria.

All hands were on deck. I called Milo, and he offered to help by using his influence in the music industry. I offered to give him a sloppy kiss in return, but the fucker was less than appreciative of my payment choice because, and I quote, "You're ugly, and you've got no titties."

Bastard.

On my end, I called in favors with the media houses that had requested my services on a scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours basis years ago. I'd never had reason to cash in these favors, but now that they controlled the public's minds on a matter that concerned me, it was only fair that I used them, too.

Soon, articles highlighting Selma's creativity and unique style began to roll out. There was some criticism, but that was expected. No one truly had it easy. But it got better. I anonymously chipped into a particular media house to drag their attention to Selma's odd series of sabotage and how it could be from a rival company.

That took the spotlight off Selma and onto Alex and his little backstabbing girlfriend. After all, Alex had broken up with Selma right before her brand took a downward tour, taking her intern slash cousin with him and starting their own company. Anyone with a brain between their ears could figure it out.

If that didn't scream, "I'm behind your downfall," then I don't know what did.

Pretty soon, it was all anyone could talk about. Twitter was ablaze with how Selma was the victim here and had been gravely misunderstood. Alex became the bad guy overnight, much to my pleasure. But that didn't mean Selma was out of the woods yet.

Maria posted a teaser on her Instagram page about the leaked designs not being Selma's actual designs. Then she made a TikTok explaining in detail how the new designs were size-inclusive, regardless of shape. It was well received by women around the world, and the contagious excitement spread like wildfire.

In all my years in this industry, I'd never seen this much buzz behind a designer's upcoming collection. Honestly, I couldn't believe the damage control had worked.

However, while we could curtail the effect of the design leak, there was only so much we could do about the pregnancy news leak. I concluded that I would never work with him, albeit very late, because he was admittedly slow, and Alex had gone ahead to reveal my name.

It was still speculation, as nothing had been proven yet, but that was enough to take some of the spotlight back on Selma. While getting pregnant was a normal occurrence when a woman had unprotected sex, the public didn't believe that Selma, or any unmarried woman actually, whether famous or not, should engage in any sexual activity that could lead to pregnancy.

Or maybe it was a 'don't get caught' kind of shit because everybody was fucking. They only judged the people whose personal lives were out there for them to feast on as the vultures they were.

In my opinion, it was a stupid notion, especially given that they had nothing against the man, who was me in this instance. Not even one single finger had pointed toward me. It did take two to tango, but apparently, it was the woman's fault for not being careful enough.

I wouldn't lie; it irked the fuck out of me. How society was so quick to place blame on the woman when the man could as well have prevented this kind of shit. Leaving aside the fact that sex was an activity to be enjoyed by every single individual at the right age and with the proper awareness about it, there was also the slight inconvenience of the misguided sense of importance people had toward another person they knew nothing about.

Fucking hypocrites, all of them.

In the end, sex sells like crazy, and it always would. And having dabbled in the industry for years, Alex knew that, and he used it to his advantage. There wasn't a day since that night on the rooftop when I didn't wish I'd pummeled his fucking face into the ground.

In a few weeks, Selma would begin to show. I had no doubt the paparazzi and their flashing cameras would be waiting in tow for their next juicy story about how Selma had truly gotten pregnant by her photographer. And then the public would bring out their nasty claws and blood-sucking fangs, hoping to further tear apart a career Selma had built by herself for the past couple of years.

Because that was precisely what the media did. They saw you lying helplessly on the ground, and they stomped you even more, dashing any hope to recover enough to get up.

I would be here with her, making sure she didn't have to go through it alone. And when the baby came, I would still stay and show her that I was nothing like her father. No matter how much she expected me to be.

Until then, we needed to focus on the new designs. The unveiling window was very short. Given that Maria already posted that nothing had leaked and everything was going to plan, Selma had to ensure the designs were ready at the appointed time.

"What do you think?" Selma asked me one week before the unveiling, handing me her iPad from the opposite sofa in her office. Her shoulders were tensed, and dark circles were forming under her eyes. We'd gone to a doctor's appointment last week together, though Selma tried to talk me out of it. The doctor had said that stress was not good for Selma or the baby.

However, this couldn't be helped. I gave her a massage every night, but I might as well have been pressing into a stone because she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the bed.

I watched her as she slept in my arms. I noticed the way her lashes flickered, and her eyelids fluttered in tandem, as though images ran in her mind and she was watching them fly past. I studied her heart-shaped lips and the slight pink hue that kissed her cheek.

My heart swelled impossibly with affection. It was one of those moments of epiphany when you knew you loved someone, but didn't realize how much you actually loved them until it hit you like a moving truck.

I swiped at the iPad, taking in the color patterns and rough strokes. I'd seen the designs already but wasn't any less blown away than the first time.

"I know I've not said this to you before," I chuckled, "but you are amazing at what you do."

She smiled, but it was tired and slow. "Thanks, Ashton."

"And you need to fucking sleep. You look like something out of The Walking Dead. And not the heroes."

"I can't," she sighed, falling back against the sofa. "The dressmakers are already on it, and I have to walk them every step of the way. What if they can't reach me?"

"Then I'll send Maria to them. She's got an eye for colors too."

She yawned, stretching her limbs in an unflattering way. "I don't think so. Everything has to…to be perfect…" But her eyes were already closing, and she lay on her side and folded her legs up into her.

I smiled, my eyes darting down to the iPad. We were entering dangerous ground, but I had a feeling that we would come out on top.

Scathed, but on top.