Page 8 of Fateful Exposure

I didn't want to think about what I would have done if it had been some other man. Gossip had a nasty habit of spreading like wildfire, and the last thing I needed was to be in the middle.Especially now that I was back to take my rightful place at the top.

But Maria's mind was obviously at the bottom of the gutter because she started wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, and a terrifying smile took over her face. "So…was it good? I've heard stories about Ash's superior sexual—"

"Okay," I announced, taking a step back. "We're not having this conversation."

But she was laughing and closing the distance I was creating between us, badgering me with questions whose answers I would rather not have a reason to think about.

Like all the different ways that asshole had made me burn, and why I hadn't been able to stop myself from thinking about how amazing Ashton’s touch had felt.

four

Ashton

Selma Volkov.

I'd heard about her once or twice in the past few years. She’d apparently been an iconic fashion designer with an outstanding brand, Volkov, until disaster struck. It's a typical fall-from-grace story.

Boyfriend left her and started dating her cousin because she was vile, according to the tabloids, and had created a working environment that was so toxic that if her employees were to choose between poverty and working for her, they would happily starve.

There’d also been some damage control blog posts. While some had been skeptical of her cousin's immediate, successful debut into the fashion industry, and said Selma's career had gone downhill quickly, others had been extremely critical of her cousin's designs and even said they seemed very similar to Selma's style.

None of that concerned me at the time. Although she had been successful at her peak, and it would have been nice to work with her, shit happens. Instead, when the opportunity to work with Zed Chenko presented itself, I grabbed it with both hands and held on for dear life.

Nevertheless, I hadn't expected Selma Volkov to be the same woman from that night. That fucking night that had left me damaged for days. I'd even returned to the hotel several times after searching for her. That was how badly I'd wanted her again. I couldn't stop thinking about how amazing she felt in my arms, or how loud she'd been. How willing.

After two weeks of no-shows, I decided to give up.

Searching for her would have been futile. I had no name, no address, not even a fucking phone number.

And now that she was here in front of me, it wasn't hard to figure out why.

I watched from behind her desk as she spoke to Maria in hushed tones. Without all that color on her face, she looked every bit of the refined, chic woman the media described her as. Extremelybeautiful. It was ridiculous, actually. No woman should carry that much composure and poise.

Instead of the brown wig she'd worn that night—I had no idea how I hadn't noticed that it was a fucking fake—her blonde hair shone brightly. Coupled with emerald eyes, she was breathtaking.

Today, Selma’s makeup was nude and subtle. Her lips shone a bright pink, her cheekbones propped high, accentuating the oval of her face and the smooth line of her jaw.

The white chiffon shirt she wore puffed out at the sleeves. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, and my cock stirred at the memory of how fucking great they'd looked in her black lace bra. I'd chosen not to take it off for some reason, but now I would give my left nut sack just for a peek at her nipples.

The only thing I could think of as I took in her pink skirt was how very shapely her legs were. She had hips for days. Fuckinghell. She wasn't just a fine face; her body was to die for.

What had her ex-boyfriend been thinking? Surely, she couldn't be that bad, right?

Selma Volkov.I smiled. What had gone through her head when she saw me? She must have been fucking surprised. Maybe even more than me. However, unlike me, she had much more to lose if people discovered she had a one-night stand with a random man. Society was cruel to women like that.

I certainly wouldn't have told anyone, but it didn't matter.

When Maria said she wanted to cash in the favor owed for what she did for me a few months back, I never expected it would lead me back to that night.

Ordinarily, I would never work without payment. My life had been too difficult for me to do anything for free. I'd learned at a young age never to do for free what other people did for money. It didn't matter how small. Life was transactional. The people living in it made it so. Who was I to go against the norm?

But in this line of work, if people couldn't trust you to keep to your word, then they couldn't trust you at all.

I owed Maria, and I couldn't say no.

That would mean saying goodbye to future connections. Her influence stretched far and wide. With over a million Instagram followers, Maria knew everybody.

Maria wiggled her brows and laughed, leaning in to whisper something to Selma suggestively as if I could hear them from here. From the tinge of pink that appeared on Selma's cheeks, I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me I was the topic of conversation. I relaxed against the chair, letting a lazy smirk stretch my lips. If Selma had regaled her friend with tales of how loudly I'd made her scream with my cock inside of her, I didn't mind the gossip.

---