CHAPTER FORTY MOLLY
CHAPTER FORTY
MOLLY
We went to Ashton’s Manhattan apartment. I was dead on my feet when we finally walked inside.
“Do you want a drink?”
Ashton had thawed toward me, significantly. Which I was grateful for, but which also alarmed me because man, when he was pissed, he was like ice . Like the Antarctic ice that doesn’t get thawed.
I shook my head, leaving my purse, impressed with myself that I had kept ahold of it through everything tonight. “No.”
He tossed his keys on the counter, putting his phone and wallet down. Then went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. “You sure you don’t want one?”
“Do I need one for this?”
His gaze locked on me. His eyes trailed down my body, and I looked away. I didn’t want to get heated. I didn’t want to want him. I just wanted to go to bed, alone, and wake up and regroup because my head was spinning. No matter what, the fact I reacted so quick and so intensely was scary.
I didn’t like how much he could affect me.
“You were jealous?”
Here we go.
“No. Yes. I—when I kissed you and when I made the first move, it was just sex in my head. It really was. I’ve never looked a gift horse in the mouth.
I enjoy the gift and keep it moving. It’s how I’ve survived, so yeah.
I was jealous, but I was hurt, and that terrified me.
I wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for you.
That was never what this was about.” I motioned between us.
“What was it supposed to be about?”
I closed my eyes, counting to five. My chest burned. “Sex. Enjoyment. To feel good for a short time until this is all over. That was it.”
“And how are they now?”
He was so in control, his cool eyes on me, sipping from his drink. He was unruffled, as if he’d been attending a charity event among the rich and famous.
“They’re confusing. Shit got real with me.”
“Define real.” Another sip.
I wanted to take the glass away from him and throw it against the wall, see some sort of reaction from him. He’d thawed, but not enough, and my chest squeezed, because that was on me. All and only on me.
“I caught feelings, and I don’t want feelings. Not for you.”
“Molly.” A low warning from him, but he was still sipping that drink, still looking unruffled, but he wasn’t. He was so ruffled. I felt it under his surface. The dark and dangerous Ashton was there, right there, just simmering. He took another sip, a long sip. “Why not feelings for me?”
I almost laughed. Then I did. “Are you messing with me?”
“Why not me?”
“Ashton! Be serious. You walked in, intending on using me. I was supposed to be bait. You never went through with it. You still could. You should. Tonight proved they want me. I was away from you for thirty seconds, and they were on me.” I raised my chin up, feeling tears coming and needing to stop them.
“I’m the perfect bait. You messed up so bad, not using me already.
Or hell, too bad those cops were there. They could’ve taken me.
I would’ve survived. I come from Shorty Easter.
I would’ve gotten away, or worse, let loose my switch on them. I could’ve—”
“Shut up.” His jaw clenched. A vein stuck out.
I kept on, shaking my head. “I could’ve gotten free.
Told you where they were, who they were.
You should’ve used me all over again when you had the shot.
Now you don’t know what I could’ve done for you.
You already used me for my dad. You’re getting what you wanted.
He’s shaking the tree. He’s the dog that goes out to scare the birds up.
That’s happening, and whoever killed Justin and Kelly, what?
They’re coming after me to stop my dad? We’re so far down this rabbit hole that I don’t know what’s happening anymore. ”
I wanted him to come out, so bad. I wanted to play with him, not this cool and calm Ashton. I wanted to see the monster that I knew lived inside of him.
I was almost smirking, feeling my chest pinching, pain slicing through me.
“But you asked why not you? Because of who you are. Because of who I am. I’m the girl who gets left behind.
I’m the girl who survives everyone walking away.
That’s me. That’s my story. I’m not a Jess Montell.
I’m not the girl who gets the hot, wealthy, and powerful guy.
I’m a disaster. I’m fucking chaos. You could have anyone, so why me?
Why me? I’m Shorty Easter’s daughter. Even he didn’t want me.
I’m the girl no one wants, so I blackmail my dad into selling me a dying business and I hole up, making that my world.
That’s my everything. And you come in, saying it was never mine. That’s who I am.”
I looked away. “I’m the joke.”
“Is that what you want?”
I froze. “What?”
That simmering look was still on me, and I felt knocked back. “You ran tonight. Now you’re saying this. Is this because you want to be free? Should I have let you keep running?”
I was staggered. A pit opened up inside of me, and the thought—no.
No! I couldn’t speak because my god. To think it.
To be scared of it. To run from it, but to hear him say it?
I felt emptied out, all of me. He had reached in and taken everything that made my blood pump and pulled it out.
He let it drop at his feet with just the question.
I was so far in that I couldn’t think straight. I was that far in.
I could only shake my head. Not that. I didn’t want to run. I didn’t want to keep running.
I wanted him. “No. That’s not what I want.”
I felt his gaze on me, long and hard. And intense. So intense. “And if I wasn’t Mafia?”
I bit out a hard laugh. “It doesn’t matter, because it’s you.
It’s you. When I heard your manager say that about you, that you were probably already fucking Remmi West, it hurt.
Really hurt. It was pain that I could get over, but that was after you and me being together for what?
A full day? Two? Imagine how much worse it would be for a month?
Even a week? I’m more scared of what you could do to me than what a gun aiming at me could do.
I cut my losses and ran. It’s an old habit, and it rose up tonight.
You, what you could do to me, is what I have fought against every day being Shorty’s daughter.
I never let him beat me. I never let anyone beat me down, but you could do it just by making me fall in love with you. ”
Jesus.
I just said that. “And now this? You asking me if I want to run? If I want you to let me run?” I was shaking my head. I was mixed up, all mixed up. I wanted him. That’s what I kept coming back around to. Him. I wanted him, no matter who he was, what he did. It was him. Every part of him.
I needed all of him, not parts of him, not slices. All of him. His darkness included.
My insides were on the outside of my body. I’d never felt as exposed as I did now.
I hated it.
It almost made me hate him, almost, but I knew better.
Ashton’s eyes were still narrowed on me. He took a sip, another fucking sip. “Are you in love with me?”
My heart squeezed. I didn’t blink an eye, lifting my head back up. “I could, yes . ”
He finished his drink, gritting his teeth as he swallowed it, and then came toward me.
I began backing up. “What are you doing?”
He moved past me, taking his things into his bedroom.
I followed, at a sedate pace, but I was following him. I stood in his doorway, watching as he disappeared into his closet. “You’ve had a long night, Molly. Shower and change.”
I ... we weren’t going to finish this conversation? Or was this a one-sided thing? Only I told him how I felt. But I guess, in a way, it was just me that fucked things up tonight.
My shoulders fell down. A heavy weight pressed on my chest. “Yeah. Okay.” Maybe he was right. A shower would make me feel better. Clean clothes. Comfy clothes.
I was so tired.
He came back from the closet, in his sweats from the other night and a T-shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he could look. “Use my shower.”
I nodded, still feeling like an idiot, but moved past him.
I was beyond worrying about things like clothes.
Knowing Ashton, and I was getting to know him, he’d find some new ones for me while I was in the shower and have them ready for me.
Or he’d put a robe out while he ordered someone else to go and buy me some.
I was beyond thinking of the details, so I stepped into his bathroom.
His very spacious and gorgeous bathroom, with a clear glass wall that separated the shower from the rest of the room.
It was partitioned off so the shower was deep back.
I turned the shower on, stripped my clothes off, and went under the spray.
I drew in a breath, my head hanging forward, feeling the water beat down on me. Trailed down my back. All the grime, dirt, tears, blood, everything that I hadn’t cleaned earlier was running to the drain now. It felt good. Refreshing. That’s what I needed. A fresh start. A new start.
Then, suddenly, a body was behind me.
I started to yelp, but he moved in. My body recognized his, and I sagged in relief. Ashton.
He reached past me, taking the shampoo, and lathered it into my hair, massaging my head, still pressed up behind me.
His mouth was to my ear as he began to rub his hands over me.
He was washing me. “You think I enjoyed getting a call from Detective Worthing?” His hand moved down my body.
“Finding out that you called him instead of me?”
He moved all the way, half lifting me in his arms and moving me to the wall, pressing me against it.
He continued moving his hands over me.