Chapter 3
MEREDITH
The Next Day
The air inside Cole's Audi feels electric.
Every breath I take is full of him—his cologne, his warmth, the lingering memory of his mouth on mine.
We haven't spoken about yesterday. About how his lips claimed mine.
About how his hands cupped my face like I was something he couldn't believe he was allowed to touch.
"Penny for your thoughts," Cole says, threading his fingers through mine across the center console.
"I feel like everyone's waiting for me to make a major mistake, just waiting to say, 'Ha. I knew this girl couldn't do it. What was Robert thinking?' And honestly, I can't even blame them because I’m thinking the same."
Cole runs his thumb across my knuckles, and that simple movement has my core clenching.
Apparently not done, he lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips along my fingers.
In an instant, my mind spins with all sorts of wicked ideas.
God, what is with me? Why am I acting like a hormonal teenager?
"You know, Robert is not just a good father, but he's also a smart businessman. The proof is in how he managed to start Ashton Collective and expand it into what it is now in only thirty years. I don't think he would leave it to you if he didn't know you could handle it."
"Is flattery now part of your job?"
"No ma'am, but it makes me look good in your eyes."
"Fine. It's working."
A smile tugs at my lips despite the nervous flutter in my stomach. I fiddle with the hem of my navy pencil skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. "I got a text from Aunt Patricia this morning."
His jaw tightens imperceptibly. "What did she want?"
"She wants to meet for lunch to discuss 'the transition' and 'my future’, sheesh!" I make air quotes with my fingers. "Her words, not mine. It's at the Italian restaurant across from the office."
Cole's knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. "And you agreed."
"I thought it would be easier than listening to her leave seventeen more voicemails." I shift in my seat, the leather creaking softly beneath me. "Besides, after yesterday's reading of the will, I need to start dealing with reality."
"Reality being?"
"That I'm now CEO of Ashton Collective, whether I'm ready or not."
"You're ready." The certainty in his voice makes something warm unfurl in my chest. "You've known the business inside and out since you were a teenager. You casually listened to your father make crucial decisions and close multi-million-dollar deals. You are not new to this."
He rests my hand on my lap and squeezes my knee.
Before I can open my mouth, my phone pings with another text from Aunt Patricia.
Table is ready. Don't be late.
I sigh and turn my gaze out the window. Being with Cole feels like existing in a bubble. Just us, safe and certain. The moment I step into that restaurant, I'll be facing everything I've been avoiding: my new responsibilities and my family's expectations.
When Cole stops at a red light, his hand drops from the wheel to rest on the console between us. I stare at it—those strong fingers, the hint of scars across his knuckles. Without thinking, I brush my fingertips against his and trace the veins with my finger, up to his forearm.
His sharp inhale fills the car.
"Meredith—"
"What? You kissed my hand. I'm just touching you."
"Yeah, well, you touching me first sends my brain into overdrive."
"So you don't like it? When I do the first move?"
"I didn't say that."
We don't need to say more. There's a line we crossed yesterday, and now we're in uncharted territory.
The light turns green. Cole reluctantly returns his hand to the wheel, but I feel the ghost of his touch on my skin for the next ten blocks.
When we pull up to the restaurant, Cole circles around to open my door. This time, when his hand settles on the small of my back, it lingers. Heat radiates through my blouse, and I not so subtly lean into it.
"Ready?" he asks.
I nod, though I'm anything but. Aunt Patricia's lectures are the last thing I want to deal with today, especially when all I can think about is Cole's mouth, Cole's hands, Cole's—
"I think that's her," Cole says, nodding toward the restaurant entrance.
I scan the crowd but don't see her. "Where?"
"Table by the window. She's not—" Cole stops abruptly, his entire body tensing beside me.
That's when I see him. Not Aunt Patricia.
Brian Percy.
What the hell?
My stomach plummets. He's sitting alone at a table near the window, scrolling through his phone with a bored expression.
His hair is slicked back, probably with so many styling products that it won't budge even if the ceiling caved in and fell on his head.
He's wearing designer from head to toe, and it's absurdly tacky. Mismatched.
"She set me up," I tell Cole through gritted teeth.
Cole's hand tightens on my back. "We can leave. Right now."
For a moment, I'm tempted. But if I run now, what will happen tomorrow? And the day after that? How long before they wear me down?
They won't stop … not until I tell them to.
"No," I say, squaring my shoulders. "Let's get this over with."
"You're stronger than you think. You know that, right?"
"But if he pisses me off?"
"I could clock his jaw … or you could do the honors."
As we approach, Brian looks up and spots me. His face transforms into a practiced smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. He stands, buttoning his tailored jacket with a flourish.
Everything he does is dramatic, and his entire personality (at least the public one) is fabricated.
"Meredith! Finally. Your aunt said you might be a bit nervous, but don't worry, I'm here to help."
His tone makes my skin crawl. Like he's doing me a favor by being here. Like I should be grateful for his attention.
God, he thinks so much of himself.
Brian's eyes slide right past Cole as if he doesn't exist. He pulls out my chair with a theatrical gesture and waits for me to sit. I do, because it's what I've always done—follow the social script, always being polite even when I want to scream.
Cole positions himself a few feet away, back to the wall, face impassive. But I can see a muscle ticking in his jaw.
"You look..." Brian pauses, eyes skimming over me with barely concealed disappointment. "...nice. That blouse is a bit matronly, but we can work on your style."
I press a tooth into my lip to keep from responding. He really hasn't changed at all. Every time we see each other, he always has something awful to say.
Brian doesn't seem to notice my tense expression or my glare as he launches into a monologue about himself. His latest acquisition at Percy Media. The celebrities who attended his party last month. The new yacht he's considering purchasing. The latest addition to his car collection.
Boring, boring, boring.
When the waiter approaches, Brian barely pauses for breath.
"I'll have the ribeye, medium rare, with the truffle mashed potatoes," he says, not bothering to look at the server. Then he gestures toward me. "She'll have the salad with dressing on the side. Watching that figure, right?"
The waiter looks at me, waiting for confirmation.
"Actually," I say, "I'll have the gnocchi with sage butter and a glass of the Barolo."
Brian's smile tightens. "Meredith, sweetheart. You might want to reconsider. Those carbs go straight to your hips."
Heat rises to my cheeks—not from embarrassment, but anger. I open my mouth to respond, but he's already dismissing the waiter and continuing his monologue.
"As I was saying, our merger makes perfect business sense. Percy Media and Ashton Collective? We'll be unstoppable. The power couple. And of course, the board will be much more comfortable with me helping you navigate. Women aren't really built for the cutthroat business world."
My hands clench in my lap. I dig a nail into the back of a finger, loving the distracting pain.
"Of course, you'll need proper training as my wife," he continues, oblivious to my growing rage. "There are certain expectations in our circle, but you already know that. We'll get you a stylist, a nutritionist, personal pilates instructor, basically hire everyone your father should have."
He reaches across the table, reaching for my nonexistent hand.
"You'll need to lose a bit of weight. I've already picked out the wedding gown, and it's quite fitted, especially around the waist. And let's be honest, I won't be able to carry you over the threshold at your current size. You understand, of course, don’t you? "
He says this so casually, like it's reasonable. Like he's being helpful.
Something inside me shifts.
All my life, I've been taught to be accommodating because I was an heiress.
To shrink myself physically, emotionally, verbally.
Never cause a scene. Never pick a fight.
Never raise my voice. Lest other people think badly of me.
Dad tried to shelter me, but my tutors emphasized that strength in a woman might lead to a scandal, which was something we wanted to avoid, given the nature of our business.
I glance at Cole. His expression is thunderous, eyes locked on Brian like he's calculating exactly how much force it would take to break him. Probably not much.
And suddenly, I wonder … why am I afraid?
What's the worst that could happen if I speak up? That Brian will be offended? That people will stare? If I continue being quiet, sure, I won't make a scene … but at what cost? My peace?
Cole is here. If things go sideways, he'll have my back.
But no, this isn't his battle to fight. I don't need him to protect me from words. I've let people like Brian and Aunt Patricia and Uncle Charles and that idiot Trevor diminish me for too long.
I am not beneath them, and I never will be.
I feel a strange calm settle over me. My hands unclench. My spine straightens. The knot of anxiety in my stomach dissolves, replaced by something hotter, sharper.
Clarity.
Brian is still talking, planning our future together as if it's already decided. "—and the engagement announcement needs to go out by the end of the week. I'm thinking a summer wedding. Give the press time to build excitement—"
"I'm not marrying you," I say.
Brian laughs, a patronizing chuckle that makes my teeth grind. "That's cute. Now, about the venue. We need something big. Probably need helicopters to fly the guests in. I'm thinking—"
I laugh loudly, much louder than necessary.
Heads turn at nearby tables. Brian's smile falters.
"What's so funny?"
I look him dead in the eye. "You. What makes you think I want to marry you?"
"Excuse me?" His perfectly groomed eyebrows pinch together.
"You're not a catch, Brian."
His mouth opens, then closes.
"You believe you're so much hotter than you actually are," I continue, my voice growing stronger. "Conceit and vanity are not attractive traits despite what your other yes-men tell you."
Brian stares at me, shock ripples across his face. He glances around, suddenly aware of the attention we're attracting. His mouth twitches as he tries to tamp down his anger. "Meredith, are you trying to be funny?"
I stand, my chair scrapes against the floor. "Maybe. Not as funny as you. Because the idea of marrying you is the biggest joke I've ever heard."
I grab my purse from the back of my chair. Cole is instantly at my side, a solid presence radiating approval.
But I'm not done. I turn back to Brian, who's frozen in his chair, his face flushing an alarming shade of purple. I smile sweetly at him.
"I don't need to lose weight for you to carry me. You're just weak and pathetic. The only heavy thing you could carry is your ego."
A woman at the next table snorts into her wine glass. A man across the room coughs to hide his laugh.
Brian's mouth opens and closes like a fish yanked from water. No sound comes out.
I turn on my heels and walk out with Cole, head high, heart pounding.
The moment the restaurant doors close behind us, adrenaline surges through me. I feel light-headed, almost giddy. By the time we reach the SUV, my hands are shaking, but it's not from fear.
No, it's relief. Massive relief. A huge weight off my shoulders.
So this is what it feels like to stand up for myself. To speak my mind. To not let anyone walk all over me.
Cole unlocks the doors with a press of a button. I slide into the passenger seat, and he gets behind the wheel.
The moment the doors close, sealing us once more into our private bubble, I burst into wild, free laughter. With laughter-drenched tears. I fill my lungs.
"Did you see his face?" I gasp between peals of laughter. "I thought his head was going to explode."
When Cole doesn't immediately respond, I turn to look at him. He's smirking, but his eyes tell something else. It's dark with desire, and he's staring at me like he's already taking off each layer of clothing.
"That," he says, voice low and rough, "was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed."
My laughter fades. "Really?"
"Watching you eviscerate that asshole while looking like a fucking goddess? I'm never going to recover."
The tension that's been simmering between us all morning ignites. I reach for him the same moment he reaches for me. Our mouths crash together in a desperate, hungry kiss that makes yesterday's seem tame by comparison.
God, he kisses like a beast.
His hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. I clutch at his shoulders, trying to pull him closer despite the console between us. His other hand slides up my thigh, bunching the fabric of my skirt.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard, and the windows have started to fog.
"Why did that feel so freeing?" I ask, my voice barely steady.
Cole cups my face, his thumb grazes my jaw. "Because you finally stopped shrinking yourself to make other people comfortable."
I stare at him, and something clicks into place inside me. All these years, I've been making myself smaller, quieter, less, because I thought that's what I was supposed to do. Polite, meek Merry. What I was supposed to be. How a proper heiress behaves.
But what if I don't have to be less anymore? What if I can be more?
The realization crashes over me like a wave. I unbuckle my seatbelt, my hands steadier now, my decision made. I slide out of the passenger seat and open the back door.
The leather of the backseat is cool against my legs as I settle in. Through the gap between the front seats, I meet Cole's eyes in the rearview mirror. They're dark with hunger, with need. Mirroring my own.
"Come here, Cole. That's an order."