Page 17 of Fateful Exposure

"Nope." She grabbed her designer purse—I honestly had no idea what she needed that thing for; it was smaller than my fist and could barely fit anything—and threw on her sneakers. "I know when to stay away from Selly. This is one of those times. She'll call me when she feels better."

I shrugged, though I didn't understand it. Maria would know better anyway, given their relationship.

"Catch you later then." I left the studio and made my way to Selma's office.

Usually, I wouldn't have bothered wondering what was up with her. But Selma had looked…almost troubled, more like agitated. She'd missed the entire day of work yesterday, and when I'd asked her assistant, what had happened, Rose hade dismissed me. Rudely. I needed to discuss with Selma about her employees and their unruly behavior in the workplace.

I didn't bother knocking when I got to her office. Turning the knob, I walked in and was met with silence.

"Selma?" I called out, walking further into the office. There was no one there.

I decided to wait for her, heading for her desk so I could set my equipment down on the side, curved like a crescent. I wasn’t a small man by any means, but carrying such a heavy load around threatened to give me a hunchback.

Once that was done, I sat behind the desk, whipping my phone out. Earlier during the shoot, I received an email from some big-shot client I'd been hoping to work with for a few months now. The pay was good, and the prestige of working with such a high-end personality in the industry would do much for my public image. I didn't know why the excitement I'd initially felt was missing.

I was about to type a quick response that I wouldn’t be available for the coming months when a flash of white in my peripheralvision caught my attention. I paused, leaning forward to inspect it. It was a white envelope with Selma's full name written on it.

Part of me wanted to ignore it because, frankly, it didn't concern me. I was not in the business of snooping around other people's property, but another part of me, the part that couldn't seem to understand that Selma was trouble and I needed to stay away from her, disagreed.

"What are you doing in my office?" a sudden voice demanded.

I snapped around to see Selma glaring daggers at me from the middle of the spacious office. I stood and faced her, momentarily forgetting the envelope. I didn't fail to notice how furious she looked.

"Why are you in such a nasty mood today?" I asked.

She eyed me distastefully. "Weren't you taught never to respond to a question with another question?"

I ignored the pang of anger that went through me at her words. My childhood had always been a touchy subject for me, and no matter how much I tried to control the anger, it always found a way to rear its ugly head.

"Weren't you?" I threw her a challenging gaze.

"Get out of my office, Ashton. I don't want to see your face." She crossed her arms under her breasts, unintentionally—or not—pushing them up. My eyes traveled down for a brief secondas memories of that night came rushing back with the force of a waterfall, causing my cock to harden inside my briefs. Her creamy cleavage made my mouth water, and it took some force to drag my gaze back to hers.

The downward curve of Selma’s lips told me my little show hadn't escaped her notice.

"Let me make this clear in case you didn't get it the first time," she snarled, her emerald eyes taking on a fiery glow. "Nothing will ever happen between us ever again."

I couldn't resist the smirk that formed on my lips. "Never say never, peaches."

With how angry she looked, I could've sworn she was ready to leap forward and snap my neck. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

"Calm down." I raised my hands. "I just wanted to check up on you. You scared Maria away."

"She'll live," she mumbled, nearing me in long strides before rounding the curved desk to get to her chair, causing me to spin around. I saw her gaze rest on the envelope for a few seconds and a shadow flashed across her eyes before she lifted them to me.

"Well, you've seen me,” she said. “Now get out."

Okay. Rude.What was her problem?

"May I remind you that I'm not one of your employees you can talk to however you like?” I scoffed. “I've read reports of how toxic your working environment is. I just want to clarify that I do not thrive in such an unhealthy workplace."

The look she fixed on me was full of offense. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was hurt.

"You think I'm toxic?" she asked.

Truthfully, I didn't know what to think. In fact, I'd have said I wasn't sure I cared enough to have an opinion about Selma Volkov. But I knew better. However, her overbearing attitude today did not do much to convince me that she wasn't who the blogs described her to be.

"You must have a high opinion of yourself to assume I think about you at all," I said.

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