Chapter 12
Ashton
The King of Laandia offered me a job.
I know it’s Fenella’s doing. I know she’s looking out for me, using whatever influence she might have to give me a reason. A purpose. A future.
And if it keeps me in Laandia with her, so much the better.
Fenella has a good relationship with the royal family, even better than when she was dating Gunnar. Then she was the socialite, the party girl influencer with a trail of broken hearts following her.
Now she’s mature and committed and doing what she can to help Battle Harbour become the best tourist destination it can be. Magnus owes her a lot.
Which is probably why I still get an open invitation to stay here, even after the accident.
Magnus obviously doesn’t have an issue with me.
Being an advisor on a royal committee on roads isn’t something that’s ever been on my radar. I know how to drive on a road, but building one isn’t something entirely different.
But still…
The king offered me a job.
My own father doesn’t think I’m worth enough to do that.
“Thank you,” I say, sincere and serious. “I will give that some thought.”
“Talk to Gunnar if you want to know what it’s like. Or your sister. And then come talk to me.”
“I will,” I promise, wondering what exactly I’m promising.
The king stays for a few minutes to talk to Sophie, making her laugh. I join in, but my mind is racing faster than I’ve driven.
A job. An option.
Someone thinks enough of me to offer me that.
Fenella stays for a while after Magnus leaves, and I like watching Sophie interact with my sister.
Fenella and I share the same group of friends, but for a long time, they were the only ones Fenella would trust. Being in the public eye means putting yourself out there, and dealing with what comes after that.
The comments, the cruelty, the demands on your time and energy.
I have an easier time than Fen does, but I know it weighs on my sister. It was one of my concerns when she up and moved to Laandia—that she would be without her people.
But it looks like she’s found people here. Silas. The royal family.
And Sophie.
I walk my sister to the door when she leaves.
“He was serious about the job,” she whispers to me.
“What did you have to promise? Your first born?”
“He thinks a lot of you.”
“He thinks a lot of you,” I correct. “We don’t come as a matched pair.”
I don’t know why I’m arguing with her. It means a lot that the king offered, regardless of how it came to be.
But it still feels wrong somehow. That I’m not worthy of it.
Fenella shakes her head. “Stop trying to self-destruct,” she hisses. “This gives you an option other than FluxFuel. And it means you don’t have to keep up with this plan to woo…” Fenella jerks her head toward Sophie, still on the couch leaning over the cats.
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No? You’ve been here for two days straight. You stuck around after Basher left. What do you call it?”
“Maybe I’m… getting to know her,” I say in a low voice.
“Why? Brother, she’s so not your type.”
“I don’t have a type.”
“You kind of do. Shallow. Materialistic. Remember Mera?”
“I thought you liked her?”
“I did, because I was just like her. Now I’m not. Sophie is nothing like her. Neither was Abigail, which is why it never would have worked out with the two of you.”
The mention of Abigail, and how she sent me home, still stings. But I mask the expression. Even my sister doesn’t need to know how I felt—still feel—about not being wanted.
“Don’t hurt her, Ashton,” Fenella pleads.
“I’m not planning on hurting her.”
“You will. It’s what we do.” She pauses and taps my chest. “Just don’t”
“Why? Everyone in town will be mad at me? I’m used to that.”
“I’ll be mad. She’s my friend.” And with a rueful smile, my sister walks down the hall.
For a moment, I want to follow Fenella. Take her keys and get out of the castle. Get out of Laandia.
What am I even doing hanging around with Sophie Laz?
Fenella’s right—she’s not my type.
She’s not shallow. She’s not materialistic. She’s not concerned with what she can get from me.
There’s a good chance I will end up hurting her.
But still—leaving the door open I retrace my steps back to her and take my seat on the couch.
“That was nice of Fenella to stop by,” Sophie says with a bright smile.
“And the king,” I remind her. The little black cat stretches and reaches out with a paw.
“And the king. Did I hear that right? Did he offer you a job?”
“I think—maybe?”
“Are you looking for a job?”
I stroke the cat’s head, and he begins to purr, like an engine. “I might be in need of something,” I admit.
“Before Fenella, I didn’t know that billionaires worked.”
“How else do they get their billions?”
“Yes, but you… your father is a billionaire. Carrington Toys…”
The implication is there—that I’m not worth anything on my own.
“Is his company,” I say drily. “Not ours. I’ve always wanted to find my own path.”
“So you race cars.”
“I did.”
“Not anymore?”
This is the time for me to open up. To talk about what happened. What it means for me and my career.
This is the time to open up and be vulnerable.
It’s what Abigail would have wanted me to do.
“Maybe,” I hedge.
The fire crackles, and I want to take it back. For once, I want to be open and honest and share what I’m feeling with someone. But I have no idea how to do that.
“You work,” I say instead. “At the fish and chip place.”
“It’s no Carrington Toys.”
“I don’t work there either. What do you do around here when you’re not working?”
“I read. I… paint.”
“What do you paint? Like rooms, and houses?” But I smile so she knows I’m teasing.
“That’s just at Fenella’s place. I paint pictures.”
“You can paint me.” I pose on the couch, adjusting my expression for one of haughty grandeur.
“I’m not one for portraits.”
“No? What would you paint if you could choose anything?”
“The ocean at sunrise,” she says without giving it a thought.
I wince. “I don’t remember the last time I saw a sunrise when it wasn’t because I stayed up all night.”
“I definitely don’t party like you do.”
“What do you do for fun then?”
“I spend time with friends. Family. I like getting coffee and helping Stella at the shelter.”
She lives a quiet life. At first glance, it seems boring, but not for her.
Sophie seems content in a way that I envy.
“I like watching movies,” she adds.
This is something I can get behind. “Favourite movie?”
She winces and folds the edge of the blanket over her legs. “I really like movies from the 80s and 90s. Some of them really aren’t appropriate anymore,” she admits.
“You think?” I laugh. “I haven’t watched them in a while.”
“It must be hard for you to relate to coming-of-age, high school movies.”
“Maybe.” I’ve never thought about that. All the coming-of-age movies are about middle-class, regular people who went to regular high schools. Not the son of a billionaire, who had his pick of private schools. “But I think it’s because they didn’t drive good cars.”
“You must like the Fast and Furious movies.”
I shake my head. “No, because I can drive better than they can. Momoa was like a kid when he was filming that movie. He loved the driving.”
Sophie’s eyes widen. “You know Jason Momoa?”
“Yeah, but it’s cool.” It’s not cool—it’s fantastic that I know Jason Momoa, and I had no trouble telling people about it. Yes, I would drop names, rub it in that I bumped elbows with the rich and famous. But with Sophie… I don’t feel like bragging. So I keep it cool. “You’re staying in a castle.”
“I wasn’t comparing myself to you. I just think it’s… really neat… that you’re friends with him.”
Neat. She’s kind of adorable. “I wouldn’t call us friends.”
“Your friends… the Billionaire Brats.”
I frown. “I hate that name.”
“What would you call your group?”
“A group of friends who have known each other for years and have always got my back. Gunnar’s part of it, and you don’t hear anyone calling him a brat around here.”
“When he was younger, maybe.” Sophie laughs, secure that she knows a different side of Gunnar than I do. She knows the young Gunnar. The little brother Gunnar, the brother’s best friend. “It must be nice to have friends like that,” she adds.
“It is.” I give my head a shake. Biting her head off isn’t going to do me any favours. “So. Any other favourite movies?”
“Alien.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really.”
She shrugs. “What can I say? I like to be scared.”
“Did not see that coming.” We talk movies for a while, pausing only when the maid knocks to check on Sophie, and asks if there’s anything we need.
“I would love a coffee,” Sophie says almost apologetically. “Ashton…?”
This is the time I could leave. She’s giving me the out to say thank you, but I’ve got to be going.
And I could. I should, because I’m enjoying myself more than I expected.
“I’d love a coffee,” I tell her, turning to Sophie. “I’ve got nowhere to be. Unless you want to get rid of me.”
Sophie’s cheeks are pink as she shakes her head.