Page 90 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dean
Did Ashlyn just sayshe was sorry? That couldn't be right. We’d just seen each other an hour or two ago. What could’ve happened that fast?
She looked defeated. Her arms were wrapped around her waist, and tears filled her eyes. She could barely look at me. Gently taking her arm, I led her into my penthouse. She was shaking uncontrollably, and with each passing minute of silence, I grew more worried.
I wanted to demand she tell me what was wrong so I could make it right. Although not knowing what occurred, I was afraid I’d make the situation worse. Had someone hurt her?
If so, I’d find whoever it was and make them pay.
My thoughts ran wild. I should have driven her home or gone with her on her errands. Was that call really so important? Maybe I could have prevented whatever caused her this distress. My chest squeezed. A vein pulsed at my temple, and the thud of my fist pounding against my thigh helped me focus on steadying my breath.
I hated feeling powerless.
Without knowing what else to do, I pulled her close and hugged her tight. As my hands moved up and down her back, the trembling in her body slowed. She sniffed and drew an arm across her face to dry her tears. One last shudder ran through her body as she took in three deep breaths.
Her eyes finally met mine.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
I didn’t know what to make of her apology.
“What happened?” I brushed a lingering tear from her face.
“I would have stopped it if I knew how,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Dean.”
Immediately I thought of Simone and how she’d come crying to me the day after her interview, telling me she was sorry.
I recoiled from Ashlyn and moved a few feet away from her.
What had she done?
Ashlyn winced. Her hand reached out to me and then, thinking better of it, drew it back. Her eyes avoided mine and stared at the carpet.
A ball of fear formed in my stomach. Whatever this was, it was serious.
“What’s happened?” My voice had taken on an edge. Something inside of me knew things were about to change, but my foolish heart hoped I was wrong.
Her downcast eyes lifted slowly. The sorrow I saw in those depths tore at me. I couldn’t take the not knowing. It was destroying me.
“Tell me.” I demanded.
“I don’t know how,” she cried out. “I don’t want you to hate me.”
