Chapter 11
Criminal
My hands tremble as I stare at the reflection in front of me.
I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is I can’t stay like this.
Daisy is no longer here. I have no clue who I am.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, tossing and turning, my conversation with Jagger invading my thoughts.
They’re all right, I was brought up to be this perfect little princess.
The ideal wife — but that’s not me at all.
That was a part I was playing to keep my family happy and safe and to stop Valentine from lashing out at me and making my life worse than it already was.
I pick up the scissors I swiped from the kitchen drawer over breakfast and pull out a section of long hair, slicing through it.
Dark locks, like a raven’s glossy feathers, drift down to the cold tile floor.
I take another thick section and cut again, my movements becoming more frantic until there’s more hair on the floor below me than left on my head.
“What the fuck, princess?” Asher’s voice comes from behind me.
But I don’t stop. I can’t, not until it’s all gone. Tears stream down my cheeks, hot and desperate. I don’t know when they started.
Asher’s grip is firm as he wraps his hands around mine, seizing the scissors. “What are you doing?” He tucks the scissors into his jeans pocket, confiscating them. His hands come back to mine, and he grips them tightly.
I take a step away from him. “What does it matter?” I shriek, apparently having completely lost the plot this morning.
“You’re sobbing, while attacking your beautiful hair. It matters.” He forces a smile, I think for me because I can see it’s not genuine.
“You can’t fix this, Ash. Just give them back to me so I can finish what I started,” I spit back at him, the anger bubbling up inside of me spilling over.
His eyes darken to a Jagger level of scary.
This is the only time they look alike, when he’s pissed with me.
“No fucking chance in hell.” He closes the gap between us, caging me in against the counter as he takes my face in his hands, gazing down at me.
With his thumbs, he brushes the tears away. “What’s going on, princess?”
I stare up at him, his scent overwhelming me in the best way. Even when he’s angry with me and I’m a raging mess, his presence is a comfort. “She’s gone, Ash. Dead. Destroyed by her own family,” I choke out, tears getting the better of me and streaming down my cheeks.
“I know, princess.” He sighs heavily, finally understanding.
My bottom lip trembles. “I can’t be her anymore. I need to be someone else. Anyone else.”
His eyes close for a split second as if he’s in pain, then he nestles me into his chest, kissing the top of my head. “I have a friend who can fix this. I’ll call her.”
I catch a glimpse of my reflection again. It’s a total mess, chunks unevenly taken out all over. “No one can fix this.” I cry harder. Anyone would think a terrible self-inflicted haircut is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, when that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“You would be surprised. This chick can do anything with a pair of snips and some make-up.” He collects up his phone, still pinning me in close to his body as if he’s scared I’ll do something stupid if he lets me move. “I need a favor,” he says into the phone.
“Anything for you, Ash,” the girl who sounds young gushes down the line.
Oh, dear God, who is he calling now? The last thing I need is some bimbo turning up and fawning all over him while I look like shit and can’t hold back my emotions. I’m clearly in the middle of a fucking breakdown of some sort.
I try to wiggle out of his grip on me, but he pins me with his death glare, the sheer dominance in it stopping me dead in my tracks. “If you’re free right now, I’ll send a car to your apartment to pick you up,” he tells her.
“Man, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you boys, you know I can make myself free,” she says, sounding way too happy about it.
He grins at me like a bloody Cheshire cat. “Perfect. And bring your makeup and hair kit with you. We need a full makeover for my little princess.”
“Sounds interesting.” She laughs down the line. “I’ll be ready when the car arrives.”
“Thanks, George, you’re the best.” He disconnects the call, grinning back at me, all pleased with himself, even if there is still an edge to him.
I roll my eyes because there is literally nothing else I can do when pinned between his body and the counter.
“What was that for? I’m helping you out,” he mutters while typing something into his phone.
My face is bitchy as all hell, I can’t help it. Why does he have to be so damn flirty with everyone? I place a hand on his solid chest, trying to shove him off me. “Was that another one of your groupies?”
He pulls a face. “I haven’t slept with every girl I know. Some of them really are just friends. And Georgina is like family, so it would just be weird.”
“Good to know,” I mutter, trying to sound uninterested and still not really believing him. He’s a magnet for women, they love him, and even though it’s clear he’s into me, I can’t help but wonder how long it will last before he finds some shiny new thing to go after.
He tucks his phone away, his hands coming to my waist. He picks me up and places me on the counter in front of him, pushing his legs between mine so I’m forced to let him closer. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re jealous.” He flicks a stray chunk of my hair.
My glare intensifies, not up for his flirty behavior this morning.
“I’m not jealous. It’s just good to know what to expect before this girl turns up here.
You have no idea the dirty looks I was getting from girls at the club.
Girls who were nice to everyone else except me.
And if this chick is going to fix me up, I kind of want to be prepared. ”
He throws his head back, laughing. “You’re so dramatic. Who was giving you shit? I’ll sort them out.”
I try to shrug it off. “It’s not important now.” Now I can’t go back to the club anyway since I’m dead.
His eyes met mine, a silent connection passing between us that shouldn’t be here. “It’s important to me.”
I shake my head as a loud exhausted sigh escapes me. “Why do you have to be such a manwhore?”
His hand flies to his heart as if I’ve wounded him, and his breath hitches in his throat. “Harsh, princess.”
A smirk tugs at my lips as I meet his gaze, keen to provoke him just a little. “The truth hurts, I guess,” I sass back.
He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth hinting that he’s not really angry with me.
“You’re on fire with the insults today. I wasn’t a manwhore.
I just hadn’t found the right girl, I guess.
Now things are different.” He stares deep into my soul in a way that crushes me.
He’s like an adorable puppy, nudging my hand for a scratch or any attention I’m willing to give.
I know what he wants—for me to tell him I feel the same.
That he is someone to me as well. But I can’t.
“I’m not the right girl, Asher,” I whisper sadly. Maybe in a different time and place, if I weren’t stuck in this situation, things might have been different with us. The chemistry is so intense I think it could have been real, but I’m just not that lucky.
His gorgeous face hardens in a way that surprises me, deep crevasses forming on his forehead. “How do you know?” he growls.
I blink back at him, not sure what to say now that he’s definitely upset.
Can’t he see there are so many reasons this won’t work?
That this thing between us can never be more than just infatuation.
“I’m sleeping with both your brothers, for a start,” I huff out, pointing out the elephant in the room.
He has to see this is an impossible situation, doesn’t he?
His hand dusts up my arm, and he tilts his head, his eyes running over my face, his expression unreadable. And for him that’s rare, he’s normally so expressive. “Not something I’m worried about.”
I place a hand on his chest, trying to get some distance between us.
We’re too close to be talking about something so serious.
But there is no avoiding the topic now that we’re locked up in this place altogether.
I can’t run from him or pretend I have make-up and wardrobe to be getting ready for a night at work.
His eyes meet mine, almost pleading with me.
“I don’t get it, Ash. It should worry you.
This whole thing is kind of messed up, isn’t it?
The three of you… me… What even is this? ”
“Only if you make it that way,” he grumbles back, and I know I’ve hurt him.
My hand slides down to his, and I give it a squeeze.
I don’t want to hurt him. He’s so sweet to me, and the truth is, I know how he feels.
The attraction between us is insane, I’m sure I want everything he does.
I’m just more practical, more realistic about what we’re up against. “I’m sorry, Ash, it’s just I don’t even know who the hell I am right now.
I have gone from being trapped in a marriage that was a horror show, to being on the run, and now I’m a dead girl.
When I ran it was to find myself, try and make something of my life and hopefully find a little joy.
I came to Sloane’s club hoping that could be dancing again, and I loved every second of being up on that stage and playing that part.
When you boys presented me with the idea of actually auditioning to that school, it felt as though all my dreams had come true.
I want to dance so badly it hurts. I had years of my passion being repressed to please Valentine, and now I’m here with my head all fucked up and being stopped from dancing again.
” My head drops, knowing he can’t understand what I’m getting at.
How could he. “I can't be making promises to anyone else when I don’t know what my life will look like next week.”