Page 74 of Off the Rim
After all the adrenaline and exercise we've done in the last hour, the chilly night air is welcome. I follow Ashton across a huge stone patio, and then down a short set of stairs.
"Where are we going?" I whisper, even though no one is out here. It feels like the right thing to do while we're sneaking around outside.
"The valet parking lot is just on the other side of those trees," he whispers back. "It's our best chance of getting out of here unseen before security comes running."
But we're too late. Footsteps thud across the patio we were just on, and voices are coming from around the side building.
"Shit." Ashton stops and looks around real quick, then pulls me into a small alcove under the patio. "Do me a favor?"
"What?"
"I'm going to need you to give me a really big, obvious hickey."
I snort, but he pulls me close. "You're serious?"
"That's the alibi, baby. Now come over here and act like you want to fuck me again."
"I always want to fuck you," I murmur against his neck. "It's kind of becoming a distraction."
Ashton moans as I clamp down on his neck, pulling the flesh between my teeth and biting down before sucking hard. I lick the spot free of my extra saliva and then lick up his jaw, pulling his head down so I can reach his mouth. I bite and pull at his lips, ravaging them until we're found and pulled apart by Artie and his friends. When a flashlight is pointed at Ashton, he looks well and thoroughly debauched. Between his hair coming loose during our office fuck, sweating from running, and the damage I just did to his mouth and neck, there's no doubt what we've been up to.
"Come on, Artie," Ashton groans. "Can't you let me have any fun?"
"Your father wants to speak with you."
"I'm sure he does." The smirk on Ashton's face is positively malicious. He grabs my hand, pumping his eyebrows playfully.
"Just you," Artie says. "Your friend stays here."
I look at the four men that move to stand behind me, as if they mean to block me from leaving. Immediately, all my senses go on high alert. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe its knowing what Ashton's father is capable of, or maybe these guys are truly as threatening as it seems right now. Whatever the case may be, it's clear that Ashton likes the idea even less than I do.
"Over my goddamn dead body. Marcus comes with me, or we leave together. Either way, you're not separating us. I'm not leaving my boyfriend with your goons."
There's that word again.Boyfriend.
I know that's not the most important thing happening right now, but my brain latches onto it. My hand tightens around Ashton's.
Artie, looking like he sucked a lime, touches his ear again. He looks off toward the grounds, maybe listening to something, then lifts his head and gives the goon squad a curt nod. Two of them make their way back to the door we snuck out of, Artie close behind them. Marcus and I fall into step behind the three of them, while the last two guards walk a few paces behind us.
The path to the office is a lot quicker and more direct when we take an elevator to the hallway the office is on. It doesn't give me much time to calm my nerves and prepare to be interrogated, but it also doesn't give me time to overthink. Ashton's dad is a shitty guy, for sure, but it's not like he's going to murder us. Is he? Ashton said he's a pacifist at heart. So maybe he just wants to scold us for being inappropriate and kick us out. If we're lucky.
Mr. James is standing in the middle of his office with his arms crossed when we arrive. A woman in an actual maid's uniform, with the white apron and everything, is spraying and wiping down the desk. My ears burn hot. I at least have enough humility to feel bad she has to clean that. Because of course the Ashton James II wouldn't have to clean up his own messes, much less someone else's.
"Ashton, you'll be paying Lucia a very large bonus for her work here today, out of your own pocket. Am I understood?"
Ashton dips his head in a nod, looking appropriately chastised. "I am sorry, Ms. Lucia. I wasn't thinking."
I'm begrudgingly impressed by Mr. James' thoughtfulness for his staff. It doesn't match up to the callousness with which he spoke about displacing people from their homes just to build condos that no one from our side of town could possibly afford.
The maid, Ms. Lucia, purses her lips. I think I see the beginnings of a smile, but she manages to hold it back. Maybe it was my imagination. I'm sure my subconscious is conjuring it, so I don't feel as guilty for leaving such a mess for an innocent bystander to clean.
"Lucia, leave us, please. Arthur, if you wouldn't mind?"
The secret service wannabe that Ashton keeps calling Artie escorts the maid from the office, then stands in the doorway expectantly.
"Mr. Vell, if you wouldn't mind waiting just outside the doors, I'd like to speak with my son privately."
"No." Ashton's voice cuts through the room like a knife. "He'll stay with me or we'll both be leaving."
