Chapter 5
Colson led me down a long, darkened hallway, his hand resting on the small of my back. The only sound was the soft click of my heels on the polished hardwood floor. Halfway down the corridor, a warm glow spilled out from an open doorway, creating a pool of light that seemed to beckon us forward.
As we entered the room, I realized it was Colson's office. The space exuded power and wealth, from the imposing desk with its ornately carved feet to the walls lined with bookcases packed tightly with business and finance books.
Several large monitors hung on the walls, reminiscent of his setup at Ashworth Financial. The air was heavy with the scent of leather, old books, and something else—a subtle, intoxicating aroma that I could only describe as the smell of money itself.
Colson gently took the champagne flute from my hand, setting it on a nearby side table. "Please, have a seat," he said, gesturing towards a plush leather couch.
I lowered myself onto the cool leather, trying to appear composed despite the nervous energy thrumming through my body. My hands felt clammy, and I resisted the urge to wipe them on my dress.
Colson settled into an armchair across from me, his piercing gaze never leaving my face. "So, Josephine," he began, his voice smooth as silk. "Tell me, what do you know about Ashworth Financial?"
I raised an eyebrow and swallowed hard, willing my voice to remain steady. This seemed like a job interview. "It's one of the largest financial institutions in the country, known for its innovative investment strategies and global reach."
He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Very good. You’ve familiarized yourself with our company while you’ve been there. I’m impressed."
It sounded like he was interviewing me for a position I already possessed. I’d know about AFC for many years having lived on the grounds of the Ashworth mansion. I knew what they did and their vision for the future.
Colson settled back into his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity of his gaze made me feel like a specimen under a microscope.
"Josephine," he began, his voice low and measured. "I hope you understand that this I'm looking for a partner in every sense of the word."
I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. "I understand," I managed to say.
He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Tell me about your personal life. Do you have many close friends?"
The question caught me off guard. I thought of my solitary life at Yale, focused solely on my studies. "I... I have acquaintances," I admitted. "But my studies have always been my priority."
Colson nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Dedication. I admire that. But as my wife, you'd be required to navigate complex social circles. How do you feel about that?"
I straightened my spine, forcing confidence into my voice. "I'm a quick learner, Colson. I may not have extensive experience, but I'm adaptable and eager to rise to any challenge."
He chuckled softly. "Good answer. Now, let's talk about what being my wife would truly entail.
You'd be responsible for managing our social engagements, hosting dinners, attending charity events.
Your life would become inextricably linked with mine.
Are you prepared for that level of... involvement? "
The gravity of his words settled over me like a heavy cloak. I thought of the future I was trying to secure. "I understand the responsibilities," I said carefully. "I'm ready to commit fully to the role."
Colson's eyes gleamed with something I couldn't quite decipher. "And what about personal attachments? Any lingering feelings or connections that might... complicate things?"
Unbidden, Vaughn's face flashed in my mind. I pushed the thought away forcefully. There was nothing between us. He toyed with me and just wanted what he wanted. Vaughn would never be a consideration in my life. I would just be another conquest.
"No," I said firmly. "There's nothing that would interfere with my commitment to a... partnership."
He stood suddenly, moving to stand directly in front of me.
I had to crane my neck to meet his gaze.
"You understand, Josephine, that being my wife means sharing every aspect of your life with me.
Your time, your body, your future – they would all belong to us, together.
Can you truly say you're ready for that? "
My heart pounded in my chest, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. This was the moment of truth. Everything I'd worked for, everything my family needed, hinged on my answer.
"Yes," I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice. "I'm ready, Colson. For all of it."
A slow smile spread across his face, a predator satisfied with its prey. He extended his hand to me. "Then, my dear Josephine, I believe we have an understanding. I still need to interview a few other women, but you’re answers were stellar."
As I placed my hand in his, allowing him to pull me to my feet, I felt as though I was sealing a pact.
For better or worse, I had just taken the first step down a path that could change my life forever.
The question that lingered in the back of my mind was whether I was truly prepared for where that path might lead.
I followed Orville back to the ballroom, my mind still reeling from the intensity of Colson's interview. As we entered, I could feel the weight of judgmental stares, but I held my head high, snagging another glass of champagne from a passing tray.
Sipping the bubbly liquid, I circled the perimeter of the grand room.
My eyes swept over the opulent decorations, the glittering chandeliers, and I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to host an event here.
It was a far cry from my previous experiences in this very room, where I'd been on the other side - serving drinks, clearing plates, pocketing every hard-earned dollar to fund my Yale dreams.
"He'll never want you," a venomous voice cut through my reverie. "You're a fucking joke."
I turned to find Simone leaning against one of the open French doors, her lips curved in a malicious smile. The sight of her brought back a flood of painful memories.
"He invited me," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Simone's laugh was sharp and cruel. "You can't think he was serious. You're pathetic, Joey Shaw. You've always been pathetic and sad... a wannabe who will always be looking in from the outside. You're not invited, and you will never be."
Her words hit me like a physical blow, leaving me momentarily speechless.
I shouldn't have been surprised - this was vintage Simone, the girl who had made my high school years a living hell.
She had always gone out of her way to torment me, turning the other girls against me, making sure I knew I didn't belong.
As I stood there, champagne glass clutched tightly in my trembling hand, memories of those painful years washed over me.
The lonely lunches, the whispered taunts, the constant feeling of being an outsider.
If it hadn't been for Logan's presence during my freshman year, I'm not sure I would have survived the halls of Windmere Haven High.
But I wasn't that scared, insecure girl anymore. I'd fought my way into Yale, worked tirelessly to better myself, and now stood on the precipice of a life-changing opportunity. Simone's words, as hurtful as they were, couldn't take that away from me.
I straightened my spine, meeting Simone's gaze head-on. "You're wrong," I said, my voice low but firm. "I'm exactly where I'm meant to be."
Before she could respond, I turned on my heel and walked away, my heart slamming in my chest but my resolve stronger than ever. I wouldn't let Simone, or anyone else, make me doubt myself. Not now, when I was so close to securing everything I'd ever dreamed of.
As I moved through the crowd, chin held high, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.
The road ahead would be fraught with challenges, judgments, and attempts to undermine me.
But I was ready. Ready to fight, ready to prove myself, ready to show everyone - including Simone - that Joey Shaw belonged in this world, whether they liked it or not.
I leaned back in my seat on the train, a sense of relief washing over me as I turned to Logan. The rhythmic clacking of the wheels on the tracks provided a soothing backdrop to our conversation.
"I think I'm in the clear," I said, unable to keep the hint of excitement from my voice. "It's been two weeks since that ridiculous party, and I haven't heard a peep from Colson or any of the Ashworths."
Logan raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of skepticism and hope. "Really? Not even Vaughn? He's usually all over you like a bad rash."
I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. "Nope. Last I heard, he was living it up in The Hamptons. Good riddance, if you ask me."
I still was in disbelief with the statement he made before the party. Vaughn wasn’t the type to pour out his feelings unless it was anger. I couldn’t trust him, and I wouldn’t because all the Ashworths had ulterior motives except Easton.
As we made our way home to our small house on the edge of the Ashworth estate, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. The constant anxiety that had been my companion since the party seemed to be finally lifting.
Later that evening, I sat on our tiny porch, enjoying the warm summer air and the sense of peace that came with believing I'd dodged a bullet. The vast expanse of manicured lawn stretched out before me, leading up to the imposing silhouette of Ashworth manor in the distance.
The sudden appearance of a figure crossing the lawn shattered my tranquility. My heart leapt into my throat as I recognized the stiff posture and measured gait - it was Orville, Colson's butler.