Page 41 of Unwrapped

I slam my phone down, unable to read more. Running my hands through my hair, I try to steady my breathing. But all I can think about is Ivy reading these comments, believing these shallow, ignorant opinions.

My phone rings, it’s Zane.

"I know," he says before I can speak. "Need me to handle damage control?"

"No." I stand, grabbing my coat. "I have to go."

"Asher-"

"They're tearing her apart, Zane." My voice cracks. "Making her feel like she doesn't belong in my life, when she's the only thing in it that actually matters."

A pause. "Go. I'll take care of things here."

I'm already heading for the elevator when another notification pops up - a new article suggesting Ivy used inside information about Mercer Enterprises to secure funding for her bakery.

"Fuck!" I punch the elevator wall, ignoring the startled looks from other passengers.

This is exactly what I didn't want. Ivy deserves to be known for her talent, her determination, her incredible heart - not reduced to gossip fodder because of me.

My phone buzzes with a text from her:

Ivy

I think we need to talk.

Four words that stop my heart.

No. I won't let them win. I won't let them make her doubt us.

I text back.

Asher

Don't read another word. I'm coming over. We'll face this together.

Because that's what terrifies me most - not the gossip or the speculation, but the thought of losing her because my world is too harsh, too judgmental, too fucking shallow to deserve someone as genuine as Ivy.

They want a statement? Fine. I'll give them one they'll never forget. Because I'm done letting anyone make the woman I love feel like she's anything less than extraordinary.

I just hope I'm not too late.

With a new determination burning in my chest, I grab my coat from the back of my chair and head for the door. The late hour doesn’t matter, even though it’s now after midnight. The empty streets, the snow that falls steadily around me, none of it matters. Because it’s Christmas Eve, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I have to see her. I have to make her understand that she’s wrong—so damn wrong—about not fitting into my life.

The night air is sharp as I step outside, but I barely feel the cold as I make my way to Ivy’s apartment. Snowflakes catch on my coat, melting as soon as they touch my skin, and the city around me feels strangely peaceful, like it’s holding its breath. My footsteps crunch against the freshly fallen snow, echoing in the quiet, and I can see my breath fogging the air in front of me.

I think about the dozens of times I’ve made my way through these streets, always in a rush, always with some goal or meeting or deal on my mind. But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, I’m not thinking about the next move or how to close a deal. All I can think about is Ivy—her laugh, the way she crinkles her nose when she’s deep in thought, the way she makes me feel like I can be more than just Asher Mercer, CEO.

By the time I reach her building, my heart is pounding in my chest, my breath coming in quick, nervous bursts. I hesitate outside, staring up at the dark windows, the quiet wrapping around the building like a blanket. Doubts creep in, whispering that she might not want to see me, that I might have already lost my chance. But I push them aside, clinging to the one truth that’s kept me moving forward tonight: I have to try. Because the thought of letting her walk away without fighting for her is more terrifying than anything else.

I press the buzzer for her apartment, my thumb lingering over the button, and wait. I hold my breath, praying she’s stillawake. A few moments later, her voice crackles through the intercom, sounding surprised and a little wary.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Asher? It’s late. What are you doing here? We can talk tomorrow.”

I swallow, trying to steady my voice. “I told you we were going to face this together.”

---