Page 9 of Fateful Exposure

Not one bit.

I was willing to work with her if she would be more agreeable. Obviously, she needed me more than I did her, but Maria seemed to think we would work well together.

Then they both approached me, Maria with humor in her eyes and Selma with a permanent scowl that I'd noticed was reserved just for me.

"Are you done talking about me?" I asked, intertwining my fingers, and throwing them behind my head. I created a picture of laziness, and it pleased me greatly when the scowl on Selma's face deepened. "I've been told I'm quite difficult to forget."

"Get out of my chair," she snapped. "And take your fucking feet off my desk."

She pushed my legs off roughly, causing me to lose my balance momentarily and my feet to hit the vinyl-tiled floors with a thud. I clenched my jaw to keep from lashing out. Maria asked me to behave. Maria could go to hell, but it was enough of a reason for me to control myself.

I kept my gaze squarely on Selma's face, refusing to bite. She didn't blink, as if letting me know she never backed down from a fight. Well, I didn't either.

Guess we’ll find out, won’t we?

"Let's all just calm down," Maria intervened, sensing the battle brewing in the distance. "Ash, Selma has agreed to give you a chance."

I raised a brow. "The fuck she has. A chance? I'm pretty sure you need me more than I need you."

"I don't need you at all." Selma threw her chin in the air, and I decided then that I didn't like her. Beauty be damned. Beauty was useless if the soul was blackened. She looked at me like she was better than me, which didn't sit well with me at all. Especially since she was the one with the dead career, and I was here to help revive the fucking thing.

I stood on my feet and closed the short distance between us. From here, I could see the emerald of her eyes glowing, just like they had that night. Only this time, it was in anger.

"So, you wouldn't mind if I walked out right now?" I dared.

Her throat worked, but she didn't answer. I smiled victoriously. "I didn't think so. Listen, you don't want to be a bitch to me. I've had years of practice, and I promise you, I can be much worse."

"Fuck you," she snarled.

"Been there, done that. Nothing special, really. I've had better."

In a quick move, she raised her hand to slap me, presumably, but I was faster—and stronger.

"Be careful," I warned, lowering my voice to a hoarse tone. I let the anger seep through the pores of my skin to where I was gripping her hand. "I'm not a gentleman. I might do something stupid, like say, retaliate."

"Let me go." I could see she was struggling not to wince in pain, so I added just a bit of pressure. "You're hurting me, Aston."

Her intentional mispronunciation of my name brought a wry smile to my lips. I released her hand, and she snagged it back, gently massaging her wrist. Her glare remained fixed on me even as I turned and walked away.

I scoffed. For a second, the prospect of being the one to bring Selma Volkov's new designs to life appealed to me. My market value would skyrocket if fashion designers thought my pictures could work an impossible miracle, like reviving a dead career.

I'd tried to be reasonable, but that obviously gave her the impression that I was a fool. Never again. I didn't come this far by letting whiny, stuck-up women talk me down. It didn't matter how attractive or shapely their bodies were. To me, women were categorized into two boxes: an avenue for release or a steppingstone to the top.

Selma had been one of the two, but I would be damned if I let her make me feel less than adequate. I'd made a vow to never be at anyone's mercy ever again, and I would keep that vow even if it meant losing my life.

"Ash, where are you going?" Maria asked behind me.

"Anywhere she's not."

"Ash, please."

I stopped, mostly because I'd known Maria for two years and never heard her beg for anything. What was I doing here? From the first day I met her, I knew Selma was trouble.

If the fact that I didn't sleep with random women, but somehow was so fascinated by her that I'd broken my rule hadn't been enough, then running into her again in a city with eight million people should have been crystal clear.

Despite my inner turmoil, I swung on my heel. It was apparent Maria cared for her friend. She was cashing in her favor, but it didn't benefit her. That spoke volumes.

And I guess I owed it to her not to be too much of an asshole. After all, compared to what she'd done for me, this was a piece of cake.

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