3. Selma

three

Selma

The search for a photographer who would bring my new designs to life was a tough one. As I'd told Maria last week, I couldn't afford to hire one without vision, nor could I afford to hire one who was too expensive.

I was at an impasse. Expensive photographers were expensive for a reason. Where would I find one with all the qualities I was looking for without the cutthroat work rate?

Coming back had been a difficult decision, and everything, including my future, was riding on this. There was no room for mistakes. I only had the support of my mother and Maria, but unless they were professionally trained photographers, they were pretty much useless to me.

"Sweetheart, you have to call me more often. I haven't heard from you in so long," my mother complained.

I rolled my eyes at her theatrics, holding the phone to my ear between my shoulder and chin as I composed yet another email to yet another photographer I found on Instagram. He looked expensive but his work was great, and I only wanted great.

"We spoke yesterday, Mama."

"We did?" She actually managed to sound confused. "Hmm. Why don't I remember that?"

I smiled. "Don't be coy, Mama. I've been swamped, but I was going to drop by sometime this week." I heard something in the background that sounded similar to an oven. "Are you baking those chocolate chip cookies again? Save me some. You know I love your pastries."

"Sure thing, sweetheart. Or maybe I could bring some to you. They're very hot and would still be warm by the time I arrived."

My mother had been trying too hard to get me to invite her to my office—"to ensure everything was going well", as she said. I secretly knew she only wanted to check up on me. I spent all my time in the office trying to get things in order, and she missed me and worried I was working too hard.

I clicked send and leaned back, staring at the email. "I'm good, Mama. I already ate. Gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

I cut the call before she could argue any further. My mother was relentless, but I loved her all the same.

Sighing, I hoped I would get a response. In the past, I hadn't had to worry about people ignoring my emails. I never even had to send them. Everyone wanted to work with me. I'd been the one doing the rejecting. Fuck Alex and that conniving bitch. I hoped they burned in hell.

A knock sounded on my door. I straightened and opened my mouth to let whoever it was in, but the door was already opening, and Maria entered.

I gave her a look. "Give me a heads-up next—"

The words got stuck in my throat. An eerie feeling—I decided it was dread—crawled up the base of my spine, and my heart thundered in my chest.

No. It can't be. It just can't.

His gaze was equally fixed on me, but unlike the fear that spread through me, his eyes only showed shock.

Shit. He recognized me.

"Hey, babes." Maria, unaware of my internal struggle, walked further in toward me. "I know I should've called, but this was last minute. I finally got Ash to agree—"

Then she stopped, her gaze darting between me and…fucking Mystery Man.

"What's going on? Do you two know each other?" she asked.

"Peaches?" he breathed, lips ajar in wonder. "No fucking way. Somebody pinch me."

I jumped to my feet, my lips curling into a snarl. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to greet the man who rocked your world?" He smirked, revealing those fucking beautiful teeth that never left my memory.

"Rocked your world?" Maria said at the exact time I said, "Shut up."

What the fuck is he doing here? Oh, my God. Why me? Why did everything have to go awry for me? I was a good person. Really. I mean, what were the chances that I would run into the man I had a one-night stand with?

"Okay." Maria dropped her bag on one of the chairs in front of my desk. I pressed a hand to my forehead and inhaled, trying to calm down. "Somebody tell me what the hell is going on."

"We've fucked," came his oh-so-brilliant response.

"You what?" Marie echoed.

I threw her a quick glance. "It was a one-night stand. I barely remember it."

"Liar," he laughed.

My breath hitched. He stared at me, a smug smile dancing on his lips. It took all my strength not to march over to him and slap that smile off his face .

Asshole. Who does he think he is, walking into my office, spewing crap, and acting like he owns the fucking place? Wait a damn minute.

I squinted at him as though seeing him for the first time. What was he doing here? Unless…

I gasped. "You're Aston McCall?"

"Ashton. And yes, in the flesh." He made a show of walking toward me, and from the corner of my gaze, I saw Maria's eyes almost bulging out of her head. I didn't blame her. It wasn't every day my closest friend found out I'd had a one-night stand that unfortunately turned out to be not so one-night.

"So, you're Selma Volkov?" he said, grabbing the Vogue edition lying on my desk that Maria had been skimming through a few days ago and opening it. "Hmm. I'll admit you caught me off guard, and I'm not easily surprised."

I narrowed my eyes to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

As if bored, he threw the magazine on my desk and lazily lifted his gaze to me. "You slept with me because of this? What, did you think it would make getting me to work for you easier?"

I gawked at him. "What?"

Almost as if she had expected it, Maria sighed. "Ash, don't be an ass."

"What?" He tried to look innocent. "Imagine my surprise that the woman I slept with almost a month ago is the same woman whom I'm supposed to work for, and I don't work for just anyone."

"Wow. Your arrogance is alarming." Honestly, I couldn't believe it. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"You know what, why don't you ask Maria here, since she seems to think I'm your photographer-slash-savior?" He turned toward my friend as he said the words, giving her a look.

Maria's gaze kept darting between the two of us. Then she cleared her throat and blinked, releasing a deep sigh before looking at me.

"Selma, this is Ash, the photographer I told you about." She gestured to him. "Ash, Selma Volkov, my friend and the designer who has just hired you."

He angled his head to the side. "Uh, I don't remember signing a contract."

"You owe me, Ash, and this is me collecting. We talked about this."

"No, you talked. I was too busy downing an apple pie to care."

Alright. This madness had gone on for too long. "Maria? Can I talk to you for a minute?" It was his stupid smirk directed at me that made me scowl. "Alone."

Without waiting for a response, I stalked toward the window, away from my mahogany arched desk, where that asshole was choking up the place with his dickhead aura. Maria's heels clicked loudly on the floor as she approached behind me.

"When you said you were bringing me a photographer, you didn't tell me he would be an asshole too." There was an urgency in my voice that betrayed my calm exterior. I risked a glance at said asshole, growling when I saw he was seated in my chair; his eyes trained on me. He gave me a tight-lipped smile and a wave. I growled deeper.

"Just give Ash a chance, Selly. I swear he's not as bad as you think."

I dragged my gaze back to her. "No. He just has a giant dick attitude."

Her eyes were pleading. "You really need this. Besides his giant dick attitude , he's the right person for the job."

I sighed audibly, pressing a hand to my forehead. "Maria, for the love of God."

"Plus, he's going to do it for free."

That made me pause. Free? Okay. So maybe he isn't that annoying.

And if he was, who cared? It was nothing I couldn't handle—a small price to pay for greatness.

However, Ashton McCall didn't look like someone who would work for free. I watched him for a second. His leather jacket was expensive—I knew that because I'd gotten a similar one for Alex for his birthday four years ago—and his Rolex was a different type from before, though still expensive. Leather Derby shoes decorated his feet which were now fucking propped up on my desk. That desk cost me a fortune.

Nope. I would kill him before we even started. Free work be damned.

My sigh spoke of great anguish. "Anyone but him, Maria. Please."

"Have you gotten a response from any other photographers you've emailed?"

I narrowed my eyes. "How do you know I've been emailing photographers?"

She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, shooting out a hip. "I know you, Selly. Listen, Ash owes me. He's my friend and agreed to help me, thus helping you."

"Did you hear what he said earlier? He's not interested."

"Yes, he is. He's just being Ash."

I furrowed my brows at her. "What does that mean?"

"He's an asshole."

I shrugged, agreeing with her. She was also right about my needing this. After our conversation a few days ago, I'd googled him, and saying I was impressed would be an understatement. He'd come onto the scene around the same time I left three years ago, which was why I didn't know about him. Alex and Iris's betrayal had cut so deep that I had stayed away from anything that would remind me of my predicament, which meant going off social media and rejecting magazines.

Ashton McCall was a real dick, no doubt. And it was even worse that I had slept with him. But really, who would be the loser if I rejected him? Maria was pretty convinced this was pro bono work on his end, and it was uncertain whether I would find a professional photographer worth his salt who would agree to work for what I could pay.

And honestly, why look a gift horse in the mouth?

I crossed my arms under my breasts, fighting the urge to sneak a glance at him. I might regret this, but I had no choice. Besides, there were upsides to the recent development. Now that I didn't have to pay for a photographer, the designated money could go into the next critical challenge.

"So?" Maria's impatient voice returned my attention to her. "Are you doing this or not?"

I exhaled. "I guess. It's not like I have a choice."

"I know, right? You're welcome." She rolled her eyes, which made me chuckle.

"I'm sorry, Maria. I really appreciate your help. It's just that I didn't expect to have the man I had a one-night stand with show up as my new photographer."

She leaned in, acute curiosity swirling in her eyes. "About that…What the fuck, Selma? You had a one-night stand?"

I shrugged. "It just happened." Even I was surprised. For the first few days after that, I wondered if it was one of those times when my audaciousness would lead to my downfall. I'd known the risks involved, and while I'd had the forethought to don a disguise, there was only so much heavy-eyed makeup, and a brown wig could do.

I didn't want to think about what I would have done if it had been some other man. Gossip had a nasty habit of spreading like wildfire, and the last thing I needed was to be in the middle. Especially now that I was back to take my rightful place at the top.

But Maria's mind was obviously at the bottom of the gutter because she started wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, and a terrifying smile took over her face. "So…was it good? I've heard stories about Ash's superior sexual—"

"Okay," I announced, taking a step back. "We're not having this conversation."

But she was laughing and closing the distance I was creating between us, badgering me with questions whose answers I would rather not have a reason to think about.

Like all the different ways that asshole had made me burn, and why I hadn't been able to stop myself from thinking about how amazing Ashton's touch had felt.