Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
ACE
Friday afternoon, I head back to the apartment to start getting ready for this lame shit we have to go to. The only reason I didn’t put up more of a fight with my dad is because she'll be there. The whole friend crew will be, and that’s even better. If Ainsley wants to put on her Ice Princess persona, then at least I will have Morgan and Cass to distract me.
Morgan is already home. His elective was canceled for today, so he's almost ready. After getting out of the shower, I opt out of shaving. I like the maturity the light stubble gives, and the women at the club seem to enjoy it. Shit, now I realize since Ains has been in town, I haven’t been to Sanctuary Upstairs. No wonder I've been a pent-up moody asshole. I haven’t gotten laid in over a week. But…the thought of going to the club for pleasure feels dirty while I’m having all these conflicting feelings for her. Shaking my head at my reflection in the mirror, I get the overly priced putty out and work on my hair.
Before Denny, you would never catch me in a suit or tux. I only wore them when my parents forced me to, or when I went to prom. Now that we work for Denny and are active members of his club, we're used to the suit life. I can appreciate it more now that I am a little older and like the way I look—I can command a room wearing them. Women come running when they see the two of us dressed like CEOs.
I head downstairs to meet Morgan. Our tuxedos are almost identical, but seriously, how creative can you get with a black tux? Morgan is in the kitchen with a bottle of bourbon—and not just any bottle of bourbon. He has the expensive bottle we both went in on when we got paid from our first job.
“Damn dude, that kind of week?” I shake my head, grinning at him. This week has been stressful for both of us.
“You have no idea, bro. Classes, the job for Denny, and the shit I have going on with—” He stops abruptly.. I have a funny feeling he was about to say Cassie. He thinks he can hide shit from me, but I see it. Hopefully between the two of us, I am better at hiding my shit.
“I get it. My week has been shit, too. Are you pouring a glass for me, too, or planning for me to watch you drink?” I nod to the bottle and bar cart we have our whiskey glasses on. We both drink our bourbon the same: three fingers on the rocks.
“Yeah, sorry, not sure where my head is lately. Let’s drink this then head out. The car should be here in ten minutes—I confirmed with your dad.” He moves his eyes away from his watch and pours me a drink.
“Will the girls be in the car, or are we picking them up?” I’m not sure where the car's first stop will be.
“Actually, your dad said Ainsley talked to our moms and asked if they could send another car for them and they’ll meet us there. Not sure what that is about, but it looks like it's just me and you.” Morgan shrugs his shoulders. I’m not sure why we would need two cars. Can she not handle a car ride with me? Whatever, at least I'll get to see her at the event. I get the alert that the car is here, so we down our drinks and head out to meet the driver.
The ride over is quiet as Morgan and I are both lost in thought. As we pull up to the event, I can already see the red carpet—as if we are all a bunch of celebrities at a movie premiere. These uppity assholes go all out for this; I'm pretty sure it's their biggest event of the year. It’s in a large coliseum-looking building with tall white pillars and a long set of stairs. I've been to this event before, and always compare the stairs to the set that Rocky jogged up in victory.
“I texted Ains. They're inside getting a drink. I forgot that these events don’t ID anyone.” His eyes roll so hard they look like they are rolling in the back of his head. I get his frustration. Cassie has been known to drink from time to time, but Ainsley never drank. Not that we would let her, but she never showed even a slight curiosity toward alcohol. I guess her attitude wasn’t the only thing to change over the summer.
We both walk up the red carpet and head inside once we give our names to the doorman. Morgan and I look around for the girls, but have no luck. There are so many different bars in this place, but I guess it makes sense with how long the guest list is. The guests at this event are too prissy to wait in line for a drink at the bar.
I finally spot two women whose profiles fit the girls. I tap Morgan, and lead him to the bar they're at. I clear my throat to get their attention. They both turn around and I stand in place, shocked.
What. The. Fuck.
It's not just me—Morgan's expression mirrors mine. At least now I know why they wanted their own car. Morgan and I would have lost our minds if we saw them before arriving. I start to say something, but Morgan beats me to it.
“What in the ever-loving fuck do you think you're wearing?” he asks in an angry, hushed tone. I nod in agreement, staring at the low-cut V-neckline of Ainsley’s dress. She takes a step forward to calm Morgan down and oh my God, the slit that shows her right leg goes up to the top of her thigh. It’s then that I realize Morgan isn’t looking at her—Cassie is his only focus. Ainsley notices too, and she huffs out a breath of relief when she realizes she may be off the hook with him. Newsflash, princess: he may not have noticed your dress, but I did.
“Morgan, what the hell? I can wear whatever I want to wear.” Cassie sways the length of her dress around, showing she doesn’t have a slit like Ainsley does. Morgan grabs her wrist and spins her around to see her back, and I can see why he would be freaking out—her entire backside is on display. The dress drapes to right above the crack in her ass.
The bartender clears his throat to break up the tension, then places the girls’ drinks down. They grab them as Morgan slides up behind Cass and whispers in her ear, so low only she can hear him. Ainsley concentrates on the glass of champagne to avoid the awkward standoff between Morgan and Cass. The moan that escapes her lips as she sips the Dom Pérignon makes my cock twitch with need. Fuck, how I wish those moans were for me.
I hold off on scolding her for the dress, because then I'd end up going off on her in front of her brother. The more those encounters happen in front of him, the more his suspicion will rise. No, for now, I order Morgan and I a bourbon and stare at the mysterious, gorgeous woman standing next to me.
She's every man’s wet dream, and that thought stops me. I look around and notice multiple men staring at the two women in front of us. Most of them are so obvious, even when standing next to their wives. Pathetic.
Cassie moves toward our table, with Morgan right on her tail. I steal Ainsley’s attention, lightly grabbing her arm and guiding her to follow the two of them. My lips hover near her ear to give her a warning.
“If you think you got off easy because your brother is distracted by Cass, think again.” Her body freezes in place at my threat. My smirk doesn’t give away the fury combined with arousal she's summoned out of me. Those beautiful red lips of hers start to say something, but I press my finger to her mouth to silence her.
“Shhh, princess…Not now.” No one can hear me, and Morgan is so irate with Cass, I’m not worried about him questioning how close I'm standing to his sister. She just nods and follows me to the table.
We spend the next ten minutes listening to Morgan and Cass whisper-yell back and forth at each other. It's exhausting watching them fight when I know all they really want to do is fuck. That is, if they haven't already. It's painfully obvious something is happening between them. They must think we are idiots to not see it.
Cassie stands up abruptly, shooting her chair back a foot, looking around before she speaks. “AC, I’m going to the restroom to freshen up. I’ll be back in a bit,” she announces loud enough for the table to hear.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Ainsley starts to stand up, but Cass shakes her head.
“No, that's okay. I won't be gone long. Besides, I noticed Jackson in the corner over there. He's been staring at you since we walked in.” The wink she gives Ainsley pisses me off, but I'm more angry at the look she gives me after pointing out Douchebag to Ainsley. A lot can be said in just a look; it seems Cassie Sinclair may know more than she lets on. Morgan noticeably shifts in his seat as he watches her walk away. Here it comes, in three…two…one.
“I’m getting another drink.” Not waiting for a response, he storms off. Not to the bar, though—no, he is following her.
“Wow, he's not being subtle anymore. Like we can't see something is going on with them,” Ainsley says. She's eyeing Jackson across the room, as I try my best to pull her attention back to me. We haven’t spoken to each other in a week, not since I sent her that last text. I'd be lying if I said she wasn’t on my mind every second of the day. She consumes all of my thoughts, and while I know I could never have her the way I want, I would at least like us to go back to the way we were.
“You look beautiful, princess.” Her attention comes back to me at the compliment. I can't decipher the questioning look on her face—maybe she's trying to find sincerity in my words. Before we became whatever this is, she would take my words at face value. It pisses me off that she questions everything I do or say like I would ever intentionally hurt her.
“Come on Ace, you don’t really think that. I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t need to blow smoke up my ass.” Why the fuck would I say that and not mean it? Every man in this ballroom has a hard-on for her; she has to know she's the most attractive woman here. I want to stab their eyeballs out with one of the many pretentious forks at this table for looking at what's mine.
Dude, get it the fuck together; she isn’t yours and never will be.
I know space between us is for the best. I must be a masochist for putting myself through this torture, wanting to be near her all the time. Ainsley has this way of causing my brain to fog with lust, then I lose track of my moral compass that usually points me in the opposite direction of her. I open my mouth to try and explain to her that I meant what I said, when the last person I want near her approaches our table.
“Hey Ainsley! I was hoping we'd run into each other tonight.” Her face lights up when she sees him. The rage that rolls through me at seeing her smile for Jackson fucking Davis is on another level. She used to smile at me like that. What fucking spell does this dude have on her? I get it, he's the quarterback, and objectively good-looking, but that stuff never mattered to her before. He's obviously laying it on thick, blinding her to his true colors. Why wasn’t my warning enough for her? She used to listen to me, care what I had to say, now my words hold no merit to her.
“Hi Jackson, it's good to see you.” Her smile is on him, but she side-eyes me. I’m sure she thinks I'm going to lose my shit again. In any other setting I would, but this is not the time or place to lash out at her. If I cause a scene, I have no doubt my dad would hear of it and rip me a new one. So no, I just sit back and painfully watch them flirt with each other.
He bends down to whisper something, only she can hear. She giggles and lightly smacks at his hand. I’m fuming at this disgusting display of affection.
"Ahem." I force a deep cough from my throat to break up their conversation. "I didn't know Jackson was a comedian. What's so funny? I like to laugh." I can't help myself. If I have to watch this shit, I will make it uncomfortable for them, too. They both choose to ignore me.
“You promised me a dance, Toots.” Standing to his full height, he holds out his hand for her and she gladly accepts. What the fuck did he just call her? Toots? They've only known each other for a week, and he has a pet name for her. The fact that he approached our table and has only acknowledged her is infuriating me more. I can’t help what comes out of my mouth next.
“What the fuck did you just call her?” My voice may be low, but you can't miss the anger in my question. He doesn’t get to have her! I know deep down I'll have to accept her dating, I can't claim her for myself, but not him! This prick doesn’t deserve someone as good as her.
“Ace,” Ainsley says my name in warning.
“Maddox, hey, didn’t see you there, man.” He feigns surprise, totally full of shit. He clocked me the second he approached the table, if not sooner. I'm sure he waited until he saw Cassie and Morgan storm off.
My question goes unanswered. He returns his focus to Ainsley, and with a wide grin, she stands to follow him on the dance floor.
One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... I count in my head to keep my racing heart from exploding out of my chest, giving these rich assholes a show.
Ainsley obviously doesn't give a fuck what I have to say about this, so I keep my ass glued to my chair. I can't help the repetitive bouncing my leg is doing under the table. I'm doing everything I can to stay calm as I watch her bat her lashes at him, as he sways her around the dance floor.
That bright-eyed smile she's flashing him is one I haven't seen since before she left for California. I take this moment to really process what happened on that trip back home to make her so angry with me. It was a weird time for Morgan and me. We still weren't fully in the swing of working for Denny, and we had just finished our freshman year. I'm honestly drawing a blank.
She texted me to let me know how excited she was to see us. Another text about how much she missed us. What the fuck could have happened in that short span of time?
I decide tonight she will tell me; I won’t give her a choice in the matter. I head back to the bar where we first spotted the girls, and Cassie slides up next to me. Her hair is disheveled and her dress is a little ruffled. Did these two seriously fuck at a charity event? At least someone's getting laid.
“Hey, shithead. Why so glum?” I see her peering around me, probably looking for Ainsley. Once her gaze is on the dance floor, recognition dawns on her face.
“Yeah,” is all I can muster.
“Stop, you do not get to sit at the bar and mope. You're the one refusing to make any move to get her. To put it bluntly, Ace: shit or get off the pot. We're in college, and she deserves to meet someone that can be everything she needs.” I know it's true, but fuck. Why Jackson? If I'm being honest, I'd probably feel this way about her dating anyone, but especially that dickhead. I know the smart decision would be to let her go, because I can't be everything she needs. She deserves to be happy without me constantly blurring the lines.
“Cass, I get it. I really do, but it’s Ainsley. She is better than him in all of the ways, and definitely better than me. I can’t let this go, but I also can’t pursue her because of Morgan, among other things. He'd light my ass on fire if he found out about my feelings for her.” Cassie can't hide her annoyance. I’m sure she thinks everything will be fine eventually, but I can’t gamble the risk of losing Morgan. He's the brother I never had. Deep down, I know he would never forgive me for being with his little sister.
“Then prepare to watch our girl be happy with someone else, while you stay jealous on the sidelines. She likes Jackson. That may or may not work, but if it doesn't there will still be other guys fighting for her affection. If you can handle watching her date other people until she finally meets the one then fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She leaves me at the bar to stew over everything she said. There's no way. I can't risk it, and Ainsley has made it clear she doesn't have feelings for me in that way.
I still don’t see any sign of Morgan. Taking my drink with me, I head for the table to join Cass. I look at Ainsley dancing with Jackson. Of course it’s a slow song—the universe is a hateful bitch, obviously out to torture me.
Morgan finally gets to the table and sits next to Cassie. I can't miss the shit-eating grin on his face. Yeah, they definitely fucked. She swats away his hand that was moving toward her thigh and rolls her eyes at him. He chuckles and takes a large swig of his drink.
Loud voices bring my focus back to the dance floor. A tall blonde storms toward Jackson and Ainsley. She's throwing her hands in the air in a “what the fuck?” gesture. Jackson's face is red with anger or embarrassment, I can't tell. Maybe a little of both—they've gained the attention of everyone surrounding them. Morgan, Cassie, and I all watch as the situation gets progressively more heated.
“I'll run interference, just stay here,” I say to Cass and Morgan. We don’t all need to be over there making the situation worse. Ainsley is standing next to Jackson with her arms wrapped around her abdomen. She's never been one for confrontation.
"You wouldn't dance with me, but the second I leave for the ladies' room, you're dancing with her ?” This bottle blonde must be Jackson’s date, then.
Jackson is trying to diffuse the situation, and failing miserably. Sneaking up behind Ains, I wrap my arm around her waist and spin her to face me. With perfect timing, a song starts playing.
“Dance with me.” I don’t ask, I command in a low hushed tone, my lips pressed to her ear. She doesn't put up a fight—she needs to be bailed out of this altercation. She gives me a half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, but then mouths “thank you.”
The music sucks. It's not anything either of us listen to, but I could care less when I have an excuse to hold her this close. The more we dance, I forget about the angry blonde chick losing her shit. In the corner of my eye I see Jackson watching us, shaking his head in disappointment as he forces the crazy blonde away.
“Thank you for this. I knew she was his date, but didn’t think a dance would be a problem.” If they're so tight that he has a nickname for her, I'm curious why he didn’t ask her to accompany him. As if I would let that happen, but I’m still surprised he didn’t try. She must read my mind, because she starts to explain.
“His father makes him take his business partner’s daughter every year. He dreads it, but was forced into the setup.” It makes sense after seeing how detached he was from the fake blonde causing a scene.
We're still dancing when the song ends and the next begins. I thank my lucky stars, it’s another slow song. The way her body melts to mine sparks a wave of electricity through me. My mom begged me to take dance lessons with her when my dad refused. I felt bad, so for two years I took random classes with her, making me a decent partner.
I take Ainsley’s hand in a firm grip, lightly pushing her away from me, then bringing her back to spin her in a full circle. Her chest smashes to mine from the speed of the spin. I can tell she loses her breath for a moment from the surprise, then lets out the most beautiful sound: she laughs. I never thought I would hear a genuine laugh from her again. It sends a shock wave of goosebumps traveling down my body.
“You are driving me crazy, princess. I'm trying hard right now to be an honorable friend to your brother, but seeing you in this dress pressed into me is making me want to cross lines we can't come back from.” At this point, why not be honest? It’s not like anything else has fixed our crumbling friendship. She looks into my eyes again, perhaps questioning if I mean what I say. I use her pause to pull her tighter to my body. She shudders at the contact. I can feel that she isn’t wearing a bra in this dress—her nipples are piercing my chest, and it takes everything in me to not groan out loud.
“Ace, we talked about this, and came to the same—” I cut her off abruptly.
“Don’t. Don’t say what I know you are going to say. We can fix this. It may not be the type of relationship I want with you, but we can go back to what we were. Tell me there's a chance to bring you back to me.” She isn’t going to do this again. I won’t let her brush me off, and pretend that we didn’t mean anything. If I can’t recall what I could have done to upset her so much, then surely whatever it is can be forgiven. Someone above or below, please help me to change this pain-in-the-ass, annoyingly beautiful woman’s mind. I need her on some level, and I never realized it until she wasn’t there anymore.
“I think that we can talk more about this later.” I start to interrupt her, but she holds her hand up to stop me.
“I'm not brushing you off, we can attempt to talk about this again.” A smile peeks through, but just as it appears, it quickly disappears.
“So you’re saying..?” I ask with so much hope in my voice.
“Jesus, you are relentless. We'll talk, but I'm not making any promises.” That's all I needed to hear. Relief washes over me—there is a chance we can work through this and I can have her back. I grin at her, realizing we stopped dancing, the music stopped playing, and we are the only ones left on the dance floor. Her face reddens with embarrassment from all eyes on us, but we laugh it off as we walk back to our table.
Morgan's eyebrow raises when he sees Ainsley and I next to each other, sitting closer than we have in a while. I know he saw us on the dance floor. We may have been dancing close, but it’s not like I wouldn’t be able to explain that to him.
He shakes his head, shaking off suspicion. Whatever he thought he saw may have been true, but he would never believe it. Morgan knows I respect the hell out of him, and our friendship.
“Have you guys finally worked your shit out? Being in the same room as you is getting annoying. Did I miss something last summer?” he asks. I knew he'd eventually have questions—there's no way he wouldn’t notice the distance Ainsley has put between us. I didn’t think it would be tonight though, with all of his Cassie drama that no one—including them—will acknowledge.
To my surprise, Ainsley answers first. “We are figuring stuff out, and trying to move on from—” She coughs as she tries to ease his mind. “A misunderstanding.” That’s putting it lightly. He nods his head slowly, taking what little she gave him as a good sign, but there's still a faint look of suspicion lingering on his face.
* * *
The rest of the night goes by smoothly. We ate a decent meal, had more drinks, and danced our asses off. It felt like old times again. The three of them are home to me, and it was nice to get back to that place.
We are all one drink away from being drunk, so I make the call to have our driver pick us up. Despite the protests I know will follow from the girls, I only call one car. It’s for the same reason as last Friday: it would be difficult for them to sneak in their dorm undetected. I know they asked for an apartment like Morgan and I have, but their parents decided they wanted their first year to be in the dorms with extra supervision. They made a deal with the girls that if they got through freshman year with good grades and stayed out of trouble, then the conversation could be reopened.
The driver pulls up to our apartment building and makes his way out of the car to open the door for us. Cassie stumbles out of the car first, and Ainsley follows. We waited fifteen minutes for the car to come back for us after I called, so the girls thought it was a good idea to do a round of shots, and now they're lit.
Morgan stops me as the girls sway toward our building. “Hey man, you think you could keep Ainsley occupied with a movie or something? I need to talk to Cassie and I know if Ainsley is around, she'll refuse.” He's desperate to talk to her if he's asking this. My chance to have Ainsley alone has fallen into my lap. And to think, I thought the universe was against me. Here goes nothing.