Page 53 of Fateful Exposure

But Ashton had chosen to stay from the start.

And I was scared he wouldn’t want to stay much longer because I wasn't sure I wanted him to leave.

"Oh, my God." Maria shot to her feet, her face a mask of horror. "Fuck."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, instead sighing deeply. The last time she'd done that, it was due to bad news. This time, she looked even worse, and I honestly didn't think I could handle any more bad news right now.

"Spill it, Maria," Ashton growled.

Her eyes watering, she turned the phone to face us, revealing another news headline.

I froze.

Ashton growled, cursing loudly. "Okay. When I find this person, I'm going to beat them to a fucking pulp."

My eyes were ringing. I couldn't move or speak or fucking think.

As if the day couldn't get any worse, my designs had just leaked.

twenty-two

Ashton

Very few times in my life have I felt genuine anger. Years of therapy and yoga as a young adult had taught me that anger was like a knife. All it did was twist deeper the more it was fed with fuel and inadvertently hurt the person wielding it.

So, instead of bursting out in anger at the world, I'd settled for fighting my battles behind a lens where I could create my own emotions—even anger—if I chose. Photography was my safe haven. Nothing in this world gave me as much satisfaction as holding a camera in my hand.

Right now, however, staring at the text message I just got on my phone, I wanted to burst out in anger. Scream. Punch something. Someone. And I had a fucking good idea who.

After yesterday's debacle, Maria sent everyone home while I took Selma back to my place. She was in no condition to continue the shoot, and what was there to continue anyway? The entire world had seen her designs before she was ready to unveil them.

I'd been worried out of my mind at how still she'd gone. Like a fucking statue. Not even a blink during the first minute. The drive back to my apartment had involved some shouting, almost screaming on my end, and chilling silence on hers. Not one word had come out of her mouth.

But most of all, I'd been scared. Scared that she would fall into a bottomless pit that no one would be able to bring her out of. Frightened to my bones that this time would be the icing on the fucking cake. I was absolutely terrified that she would give up.

Because giving up was as good as losing. And I wanted her to win, goddamnit.

That thought had me driving like a lunatic to the address that just popped up on my screen. With Maria looking after Selma for the time being, I had enough time to attend this fucking meeting, deal with the problem and go back to her.

The restaurant was obviously expecting me because as soon as I stepped into the dim room, a waiter signaled for me to follow him. I didn't even have to drop a name. He recognized me as soon as he saw me. Perks of being famous.

The waiter led me through a narrow hallway to an elevator, gesturing for me to enter after pressing the button to the rooftop. I cracked my neck to ease some of the tension flowing through my body, preparing myself for the unknown.

The only reason I was even humoring the moron was so I could get some information out of him. I swear, if I heard any bullshit about love, I would sucker punch the fucker and walk out.

The elevator opened, and I stepped out. The first thing I noticed was that it was empty. There was no one here. Instead, I was greeted by twinkling fairy lights strung delicately across the wooden pergolas, casting a warm and inviting glow over the space.

I scoffed. What was this supposed to be, a romantic dinner?

I walked further into the space, sighing exasperatedly at the large plush cushions and cozy throws that were scattered on wrought-iron loungers adorned with delicate lace—

"What the hell is this?" I exclaimed, balling my fists. "Are we supposed to kiss or something? ’Cause I have something your face would rather suck on, and I'll give you a little hint: It's my fucking fist."

A laugh resonated from somewhere behind me. I turned in search of the voice, my mouth suddenly turning sour. All I wanted to do was wipe that fucking smile off his face, but I wouldn't put it past his devious mind to have cameras hiddensomewhere in case I attacked him. He was, after all, in the business of ruining people's careers.

"Aw, come on. Loosen up so that stick up your ass can fall out." Alex walked toward me, then past me to sit on a chair. I swung my head to follow his movements, not trusting him to not have a knife ready to stab me in the back.

"Come on. Sit,” he urged.

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