Page 24 of Chasing Sophia

There’s a moment of surprise in his eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it came. “I hope you like Thai.” He half turns his head toward the bag.

“What are you doing, Ash?”

“Trying to feed you. Trying to show you that I’m not the jerk you believe me to be.”

“I don’t believe any such thing, but I know you lied about something that matters to me.”

“Why are you upset, Soph? Is it the fact that I have money or the fact that I lied to you? Because if it’s the latter, tell me, truly, would you have even considered going out with me if I had told you who I really was that night at The Queen’s?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “I saw a girl who was on a date with someone else. Never had my heart raced the way it did then. And behold my luck, she hates the one thing that draws people toward me.”

“You’re more than your wealth,” I whisper at his frustrated words.

“If you truly believe that, then let me show it to you. Spend tomorrow with me.”

“I have school.”

“Then take a day off. If by the end of the evening you believe I’m the devil you think all rich men are, I promise I’ll leave you in peace. As much as it’ll rip my heart out to be away from you, I’ll do so for your happiness, Soph. Just give me one day.”

I look away from his anguished face. “Okay.”

“I’ll be here at seven in the morning. Be ready.”

As promised,Ash shows up on my doorstep at seven o’clock on the dot. Instead of his McLaren, today there’s a limousine parked outside my house. “What is this?” I ask as he gets out and greets me.

The smile that lights his face at my gasp could warm the icy winter air. “You’re getting the full Ashcroft Miller experience today, sweetheart. No secrets. No holding back.” He holds my hand and tugs me toward the street.

A driver opens the door, and I recognize him immediately. “You were at my school yesterday. With lunch.”

“Nice to meet you again, Miss Sophia. I’m William.” He tips his head before sweeping his hand for me to get inside.

“He’s your driver?” My voice rises in pitch as Ash slides next to me. Everything around me is causing sensory overload. The smell of leather, mixed with Ash’s pine-tree smelling cologne. The shiny minibar, with crystal glasses and a matching decanter filled with amber-colored whiskey.

“He is today,” Ash replies and presses a button, which slides the dark roof back, and in its place appears a clear panorama glass. I’m so mesmerized by the sight of falling raindrops that I jolt in my seat when the car suddenly moves.

“Where are we going?”

Ash grins and leans back in his seat. “To where it all started.”

It’s a herculean task to pull my gaze away from him as he crosses his leg. He stretches one arm and effortlessly drapes it over my seat while the other elbow rests on the window. He runs his fingers under his lip, and I swear, all I can think is that this man is a gift to women.

“Don’t miss anything today, firecracker. It’s a day in the life of your man.” Even though his lips twitch, there’s an underlying seriousness to his voice. He’s unlike the cocky, playful man I’ve come to know all this time.

Maybe that’s because he isn’t that man today. Instead, he’s the great Ashcroft Miller.

The limo stops outside the town library building, and before I can ask Ash why we’re here, the door opens. He places his hand on my back and guides me to the entrance, then further into the library. Instead of going to the bookshelves, he leads us to the door marked RESTRICTED. Through the hallway, there are a few closed doors, which I assume are offices of some kind, before Ash stops at the last one. There’s a golden nameplate on the door, which reads The Miller Family, and he unlocks the door before turning the knob.

The unexpected interior takes me by surprise. There’s a writing desk at the center, over a turquoise carpet. The walls are painted in sky blue, and the furniture is white. There are a few potted plants, and sheer curtains finish the look.

“I didn’t know you had such feminine taste.”

Ash chuckles. “This was my mom’s office.”

I don’t know how and what to make of it. “Why are we here?”

But instead of replying to my question, he guides me behind the desk and gently nudges me to take a seat.

“I can’t,” I say. “It’s your mother’s.”

“She isn’t going to be angry, Soph.”

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