Chapter 9

Nine

"Flirting?" Aria crosses her arms and glowers at me, and I swear she's going to start breathing fire at any moment. "He was freaking flirting with you." She stalks toward me. "And you were flirting back," she adds, emphasizing each word with a hard poke of her finger to my chest.

" Ow, and I was not.

"The hell you weren't."

"I wasn't ," I insist. "And neither was he." I don't care what the evidence shows, I've already decided that I don't want him to be flirting because I don't want to go down any path where flirting might lead.

Well, want is a relative term. Can't. I can't go that route. Not with anyone, but most definitely not with him. He's too close. Too tied in with the Stark family. Too connected to all the memories I don't want. And to the ones I don't have…but am terrified will come back some day—and not only in my nightmares.

I don't, however, tell Aria any of that. Instead, I just stand with my arms crossed and stare her down.

"He's tied in with this somehow," she says.

I shake my head. "No. No, I know him. He would never do that. Anne's his little sister."

Ari cocks her head and gives me her you know nothing, Jon Snow stare.

"Sister," I repeat. "Sweet little girl. He adores her. He would never."

"And let's review the timeline, shall we?" She taps her index finger to the corner of her mouth. "Back when you and Anne were kidnapped, Damien knew all about his secret son and things were all snips and snails and puppy dog tails between them."

She cocks her head as I scowl. "Oh, wait," she continues. "That's not quite right. Damien didn't have a freaking clue. And as for your boyfriend?—"

"Dammit, he is not?—"

"—he was off working to become another Master of the Universe, with his primary motivation being to make enough money so that he could basically flip Damien and his entire family the bird by jamming that middle finger down into Stark's life and totally nuking that family's happy little existence."

She's not wrong. Over-the-top, but not wrong.

"In other words," Aria continues, "he wasn't exactly feeling warm and fuzzy to the Stark family. Was he?"

When I continue to say nothing, she takes a step toward me. "Was he?"

"If you ever decide to settle on a career, you should really look into being one of those scary professors you always see in movies."

"He hated Damien," she continues, completely ignoring my snark. "Like hated hated. Damien may have been clueless about Ash, but Ash knew all about Damien. He grew up watching this man—this freaking billionaire—live his amazing life with his kids and his beautiful wife. I mean, resentful much?"

Again, she's not wrong. But—as I very reasonably point out—they mended fences. Ash knows why Damien never knew he existed. "They're good now," I say. "They're a family now. He wouldn't do that to them."

"Maybe not now. But back when you were taken…"

I shiver. "No. It's just not possible."

"You're being naive," she says.

"You don't know them," I tell Aria. She's only ever talked to any of them in passing. "You have to take my word on it. Ash isn't someone who could?—"

I cut myself off with a shiver. No way did Ash have a hand in what happened to me and Anne. No way at all.

Are you sure?

The snarky voice in my head is my own.

Aren't you forgetting Rory? You trusted him, too. You would have made this same speech for him, wouldn't you? But he took you and Anne. He locked you up. And you're only now learning what else he did.

"Bree?"

I snap my head up. "What?"

Her eyes are wide and a little scared. "I don't know. You zoned on me."

"I'm fine." I shake off the memory. "Ash isn't Rory. He wouldn't do it." I say the words firmly, but this time I'm not sure if I'm trying to convince Aria or myself.

For a moment, she stays perfectly still. Then she nods. Shrugs a little. "Okay, you say you're sure. I won't argue. We'll assume that he didn't have anything to do with the kidnapping. But that doesn't mean he's not involved now."

I settle into the corner of the couch and rub my temples, fighting a building headache. "Why are you so determined to think that Ash is part of this?"

"You really believe it's a coincidence that he was at the coffee shop?"

"Yes," I say. But I have to admit there's a tiny, tiny part of me that wonders.

"Well, I don't think so," Aria says. "Especially when you consider everything."

I cross my arms and glare. "Everything?"

She starts to pace. "Just hear me out, okay?"

"Fine. Whatever." My head is about to explode. I don't have it in me to keep arguing.

"He's a bad boy, right? I mean, that's his rep. A guy who lives hard and drives fast. Fucks around just like most guys with his looks and his money, but he's never been in a relationship. Not really. Maybe one. But she died, so we can't ask for her opinion. And you know the rumor is he killed her."

I gape at her. "What are you? His biographer? And there is no way he?—"

She holds up her phone. "I've been poking around online. There's a lot about him. But it's all very surfacy. Guy doesn't seem to like doing interviews.

"Oh, like that's the mark of evil. Guess I've got horns, too," I say, "because I can't stand being interviewed either."

"Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not. Why are you trying to vilify him?"

"I'm just laying out the facts."

"Whatever." I'm too mentally exhausted to argue. "Lay 'em out."

"Right." She starts to pace, her hands moving as she talks. "The guy's got a bad boy reputation. And the whole world knows there was bad blood between him and Stark. And since the world is always more interested in scandal than in hugs and puppies, it's probably fair to think that most folks still assume that Ash isn't a Damien fan. Right?"

I shrug. "Maybe. I don't know."

She twirls her hand as if egging me on. "Just go with me, okay?"

"I'm going. Get on with it."

She nails me with a very Aria look before plunking her butt down on the coffee table in front of me. "Let's say he had nothing to do with the kidnapping."

"Excellent. Can I go now?"

"Isn't it still possible that he got his hands on those vids? Hell, maybe whoever made them went to him. Offered them up, knowing they'd fuel whatever coals still burn."

"Coals?"

"You can believe all you want that Ash is rah-rah Daddy Damien now, but at least keep an open mind. Ashton Stone is smart, right? And that means he's smart enough to play the dutiful son when he really wants to tear it all down."

I shake my head. This conversation is just too much. "Why are you working so hard to make me distrust him?"

"Me?" Her blue eyes go wide. "Why are you so keen on defending him? The man was right there in that parking lot, probably standing where he could see your face when you first scanned that QR code today. You are not a stupid person, Bree. At the very least you have to suspect him."

"Ash isn't stupid either. And it would be nuts to be on site like that. To approach me like that."

She nods slowly. "You're right."

"Thank you."

"He's smart enough to pretend to be stupid. To hide in plain sight. To do the unexpected."

I consider banging my forehead against the wall, but since that would require getting up, I just stare at her. "You are trying way too hard."

"I'm not. You're just not listening."

"Oh, I'm listening. I'm just hearing gibberish. And again I say, if he needs money, he's just going to ask Damien. There's zero reason to stick me in the middle of it."

She moves from the table onto the couch next to me. "You're not stupid, Bree. Don't start being stupid now."

"I'm not."

"The guy's got pride. He doesn't want to ask Daddy Dearest. He wants to twist the knife. So he goes to you because you'll go to Damien. And you know Damien will ask to see the images. And even if Ash had nothing to do with the kidnapping, that's going to twist the knife in Daddy's gut just a little."

"Ash isn't like that. I don't think he would ever be that vile, but he certainly wouldn't be now. He and Damien are close. He and Nikki, too. And he loves those kids to pieces."

She shrugs. "Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't.

I can only shake my head. "Why don't you like him?"

She snorts out a laugh. "Are we back in junior high? Dammit, Bree, the guy just lost about three mil. You must look like a damn easy way to refill that coffer by getting cash from Damien without Ash having to lose face by asking Daddy himself."

"Wait, wait, wait. Lost three million?" I'm completely baffled. "What are you talking about?"

"I've been talking about it for a millennium now."

"Three mil? You never said that."

"Sure, I did." Her brow furrows. "Didn't I?"

That banging-my-head-on-the-wall thing is looking pretty good. "Just tell me now."

"Some investor backed out a few weeks ago. I don't know the details, but it's a big deal. Now some other investors are threatening to pull out, and that would totally screw up his company going public. Or make him lose some other lucrative contract. I'm not sure. I just know that the loss is what they call a Big Freaking Deal for him."

I try to follow, but my idea of high finance is keeping a balanced bank account. Still, I've spent enough time around Damien to grasp the general concept. "Is this one of the things you read on the internet two minutes ago?"

"No. At the clinic a few days ago. Guy who came in with a sick ferret left the Wall Street Journal in the waiting room." She shrugs. "I grabbed it to read while I was watching Beyonce-the-bull-dog. What?" she adds when she sees my expression. "I don't only read gossip mags."

Despite the entire fucked up situation, I smile. That's my bestie. Then I actually process what she's saying, and I frown.

She points at me and nods. "Yeah, see. You get it. Whatever fell apart set him back big time." She cocks her head and purses her lips. "He needs to get that money."

"He's not like that," I insist. "Besides, from what I've overheard, he can afford to lose a few mil."

"Overheard?"

I shrug. "I'm pretty much invisible when I'm doing the nanny thing. I hear stuff. Ashton Stone is doing just fine financially."

"Maybe," she says. "But that doesn't mean he wouldn't be pissed about the loss. I mean, the guy could be rich as Midas and still want to refill the coffer."

"Like I said, Damien would give him the money in a heartbeat."

"Sure, but Ashton Stone is the kind of guy who'd be too proud to ask. So he sets this up knowing you'll go to Damien. Because how else are you gonna get the money?"

And isn't that the question of the hour? At the moment, Damien really is my best bet, but I just can't bring myself to ask him.

I take a few deep breaths as I gather my thoughts. "Look, maybe Ash is pissed about whatever fell apart. But pissed is one thing. Getting his hands on kidnap tapes and then blackmailing me is something entirely different. And stupid since, hello, I don't have millions, and there's no guarantee I'll rush to Damien. And Ash isn't a stupid guy."

Ari shrugs. "Okay, so, maybe it's not about the money. I mean, we've already said that this blackmailing bastard must know you don't have any. Maybe it's about the danger. He's not racing professionally anymore, right? Guy like that probably misses it."

"Not him," I say, knowing that she's going to call me an idiot. And she'll be right. Because from what I've seen and heard, Ashton definitely still chases the thrill.

"Dammit, Bree."

I shake my head. "Topic closed."

"You can't just?—"

"Topic. Closed."

She presses her lips tight together, and I know she's counting to ten. "Fine," she says when she breathes again, and a noisy, uncomfortable quiet fills the air between us. She starts to say something else, then shakes her head.

"What?"

"Nothing. You'll hate it."

"What?" I repeat.

She hunches into her shoulders and looks at me sideways. "Why not ask him for the money?"

I frown, not quite able to compute her words. "I don't—what?"

"Ash. Ask him for the three million."

I gape at her.

She shrugs. "You said yourself that the millions he just lost haven't really hurt him. He can probably liquidate at least that much for you. If he cares about Anne and Damien—and you said he does—then he'll give you the money."

"But I can't?—"

"Why not?"

"Because…."

I flounder for a reason, trying to put the mixed-up jumble of reason and emotion into words. "I—I don't want to tell him what's on those tapes. And he's only been in their family for like five minutes. I can't just dump this on him. Besides, the voice said no law enforcement or investigator types. What if he pulls someone in?"

"If you tell him not to, would he? Because if you don't trust him about that, you shouldn't trust him for any of it."

I slump, my mind desperately trying to come up with another alternative.

"Look," Aria says. "I adore those kids, too. And Nikki and Damien are the coolest. That's why you want to protect them, right? And if you had the money lying around, you'd pay out of your own pocket, wouldn't you?"

I nod. Even knowing that paying might not make it go away—blackmailers don't exactly radiate trustworthy vibes—if I had three mil lying around, I'd pay it in a heartbeat.

"Well, Ash loves them, too. That's what you've been telling me, right? You don't think he'd want to help?

I stand up and start to pace, because that's what I do when I need to think hard—I move. Plotting books. Pondering real estate purchases. Deciding what to do about a blackmailer.

I'm even in constant motion when I'm writing. Ear pods in and my music playing while my fingers clack over the keys and my body starts to move with the characters. Aria says she can tell where I am in a book—action scene, love scene—just by watching my shoulders and back move with my imagination.

Most of the time, I don't even know I'm doing it. I guess that's because when I'm writing, I'm not really me.

As if reading my mind, Aria asks how I'd write this.

"What do you mean?"

"If you got a wild hair and decided to write a thriller. Where would the heroine get the bucks? Stark's brother? His best friend? His close business associates?"

I know those people, and they'd jump to help. But I've already decided that I can't go to them. It could get back to Damien. Or to law enforcement. I trust them all—I do. But I don't trust them more than myself.

"Ash is his son," I say. "It's a hell of secret to foist on him."

She cocks her head and smirks. "We already know that Ash can keep shit from Damien."

"Five seconds ago you were practically accusing him of being the blackmailer."

She shrugs. "Maybe he is. Doesn't mean you can't ask him for the money. Unless you've got a better idea."

The truth is, I really don't.

I draw a breath and pace some more. "If he is involved—and he's not," I say, though I'm not sure I mean it, "then he'll either say no so that he can watch from afar as I scramble for the money. Or he'll say yes because he knows that's what Innocent Ash would do."

"It'll be door number two," Aria says.

"And if he's not involved," I continue, railroading my words over hers, "then of course he'll pay. So long as he knows it's to protect Anne."

"He'll have it," Aria says. "I bet you a million—ha, ha—bucks that he either has that kind of money or can get his hands on it super quick."

I scowl because that's probably true. So what would I have Fictional Ash do?

I twirl a strand of hair around my finger as I try to parse this out. "Either way, he's going to pay, even if he has to borrow from some rich friend. That just makes the most sense. But that doesn't tell me anything. If both Guilty Ash and Innocent Ash pay, I'm still screwed. Because that means this won't ever be over."

Ari shakes her head. "No, no, no. Don't you get it? If he's really Innocent Ash—and if the real bad guy sticks with the deal—you pay, and the videos go away."

"A big if."

"Not so much. Because if they try to hit you up again, they increase their chances of getting caught. Once they get their money, they'll go away for good. I think," she adds with a shrug.

Honestly, she's probably right. "But if he's Guilty Ash?" I hate even thinking that.

"He still goes away. Because he's smart enough to know that's what a bad guy should do."

"Even though he didn't get his three million?"

She shrugs. "He can't risk pulling the same scam again. Not after you've paid. He either forgets about the three mil altogether or he blackmails someone else. But he can't go back to your well."

I draw a deep breath, my head aching from thinking about all this. From being scared. And from the harsh reality that's now staring me in the face: It doesn't matter if he pays or if he walks away, I won't know the truth. Not ever.

"I thought you trusted him," Aria says when I tell her as much.

"I do," I say, but she and I both know it's a lie. Right now, I don't trust anyone except Aria. And she doesn't have three mil to spare.