Page 51 of Fateful Exposure

Taking a step forward, I lowered my voice. "Are you avoiding me?"

His face might as well have been a piece of paper, given how blank it was. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because you haven’t looked me in the eye all day, and have only spoken to me about work."

Now, he looked confused. "Isn't that what I'm here for?"

Forget photography. He should've been an actor.

I sighed, resisting the urge to touch him in a room full of people. Or even at all. "Ashton—"

He took a step back. "4pm works for me." His voice was stoic and distant. "Let me know your schedule."

A sharp pang passed through me at his rejection. I hurt him last night, and it just occurred to me that there was probably nothing I could say to make things better. I might still not believe he loved me, but maybe I shouldn't have gone silent.

"Listen, I'm sorry—"

The door suddenly burst open, almost falling from its hinges, and Maria barreled through it like an angry bull in search of red.

"Selma! Sel—" She stopped as she sighted me, chest heaving at an alarming rate. Her eyes were wide and frantic, shooting a shot of fear up my spine. "Selma. It's bad."

My heart hammered inside my chest as I stared at her. "What's happened?"

Maria inched closer to me, gripping her phone tightly in one hand and fisting the other. The room quieted, in anticipation or trepidation, I wasn't sure. In seconds, she closed the distance between us, and it wasn't until she handed me her phone that the breath got knocked out of my lungs.

"Oh, my God," I staggered, almost falling on my ass if not for Ashton's strong hand that snaked around my waist to hold me upright. "Oh, God."

"What is it?" Ashton asked urgently, his gaze darting between me and Maria. "Maria?" When neither of us answered, he plucked the phone from my hands to read the news headline. I felt him tense up behind me, and shakily inhale and exhale.

"Who could have done this?" Maria asked in a low voice, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy trying to breathe because it suddenly felt like I was underwater and couldn't swim—justlike three years ago when my life had fallen apart, and I was powerless to stop the destruction.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Not even a breath. My chest was constricted, and I couldn't get enough air. The sound of my heart pounding mercilessly was all I could hear, and my body shook violently.

Not again,I begged soundlessly.Please, not again.I couldn't take another. I almost died the first time.

"Ashton, do something!" someone cried somewhere close to me. There was a numbness in my hands and feet, followed by a coldness that suddenly enveloped me like a thick blanket.

"It's alright. She's just having a panic attack," a voice said from very far away.

My feet were suddenly suspended in the air, the overwhelming angle making me more aware of my heart's palpitations. Fear gripped me as the room seemed to engulf me, and a sinking feeling of dread consumed me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them again, I was in my office. The familiarity was welcomed, but it didn't do much to bring me back to reality.

"Selma," Ashton's voice rang out, penetrating deep into the water and floating around me. "Peaches, can you hear me? I need you to breathe, alright? Take deep breaths."

I wanted to say that I was trying, but the fucking words just wouldn't come out. I stared up at him blankly, but I wasn't seeing him. The only thing I could see was the headline I just read: Love, Betrayal, and Bump: The Scandalous Affair of Pregnant Scorned Fashion Designer Selma Volkov and Her Photographer.

twenty-one

Selma

Thirty minutes later, Ashton was still holding me.

My beating heart had calmed somewhat, though it still pounded, just less violently. I'd sucked in enough air that my lungs didn't feel like they were on the brink of collapsing, and the numbness in my fingers had dissipated to a soft tingle.

I lay in Ashton's arms as he sat on a sofa in my office, Maria sitting opposite us. He trailed soft circles on my bare arm, and I focused on the sensation, following the movement with my mind's eye. If Maria was confused about the blatant show of intimacy, she didn't show it. Her face was a mask of anxiety, and I didn't think I'd ever seen her so unsettled.

"Who else knew about the pregnancy?" she asked with an angry twist to her mouth. "How the fuck did they find out about it?"

---