Page 47 of Fateful Exposure

My nostrils flared. "My favorite thing about your opinion is when you keep it to yourself."

Soft music flowed around us as we stared each other down. I couldn't believe I'd once been in love with him. My God. How had I not seen it? How had I let myself fall so stupidly for him?

"Tell me, Selma, does it still hurt when you think about it?" A glint in his eyes told me his words were meant to cut. "When you remember how I chose your cousin, and kicked you to the curb?"

Anger reared its ugly head, and I gripped my wine glass tightly. "You're despicable."

Alex laughed. "And you're gullible. Better me than you."

I wanted to ask him so many questions three years ago. The questions sat at the tip of my tongue, and I managed to keep them down with great effort. I didn't need closure—not from Alex. But I did have one question.

"Why did you try to ruin my reputation? You could’ve just taken my designs and left. Why did you go as far as spinning lies about me to the media?"

His eyes suddenly darkened, and his pupils flared.

He took one step forward, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Do you remember how small you made me feel? High and mighty SelmafuckingVolkov, designer extraordinaire. And then there was me. When I was with you, you did nothing to correct the claims that I was Mr. Selma Volkov. Everyone said you wore the pants in the relationship, and you fucking basked in the attention."

"Then maybe you should have thought of ways to make yourself relevant instead of a thief,” a newcomer chimed in.

That fucking voice. Of course, he would be here. My eyelids dropped as Ashton suddenly appeared in my peripheral vision. When I raised my gaze again, he stood beside me, and Alex looked straight at him.

"Ashton McCall," Alex acknowledged in a tight voice.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" If I didn't know better, I'd have said Ashton was trying to make him look stupid.

Alex's jaw clenched. "Not officially. I'm Alex Winston, CEO of Alris." He stretched out a hand, and when Ashton didn't take it for five seconds, he let it fall limply by his side.

Ashton turned to me, grabbing my arm softly and pulling me closer to him. "Is this man bothering you, Selma?"

I had no idea what the hell his plan was, but he was attracting way too much attention to us because a few guests were looking in our direction.

Plastering a smile on my face, I shook my head. "No. It's fine."

Alex's scrutinizing gaze darted between the two of us. "Do you two know each other?"

Ashton beat me to it. "Yes. I'm handling her new collection."

Surprise was evident in Alex's features. On one hand, I wanted him to understand that he would not be getting rid of me that easily this time around. On the other hand, Ashton's possessiveness was too glaring, and Alex was anything but a fool.

"You don't say," he murmured, looking at both of us over the rim of his glass.

Ashton's hand tightened possessively around my arm, but not enough to hurt me. "I do say. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Ashton," I whispered, hoping he'd drop it. People had already begun to drift closer to hear our conversation. I had no doubt we would be on the tabloids tomorrow morning with a stupid leading headline that left too much room for the imagination. This was not how I wanted to break back into the industry.

"There is no such thing as bad publicity, peaches," he whispered back to me, his gaze never leaving Alex. “Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Take me home, please." I was ready to get the fuck out of here.

He let go of my arm and placed his palm on the small of my back. "Let's go."

"Leaving already?" Alex asked. "The night is still young."

"Too bad. You've stunk up the place with your sorry presence, and I've had enough," I snarled at him. Now that I was seeing him for the first time in a long time, I wondered how I'd ever fallen for the prick.

Ignoring me, he darted his gaze to Ashton. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCall."

"I wish I could say the same," Ashton replied.

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