Ainsley #2
He drags a hand through his hair, staring at me, his face holding something close to disgust on it. I look away quickly, my stomach flipping, heart racing. I wipe my hands against my shorts to try to get rid of the sweat that’s making them clammy, but nothing seems to be working for me right now.
“You’ve had so many opportunities to tell me about the Haute List and you never fucking said a word.
You’ve just gone along with this fake relationship, even when it became real, writing about yourself and looking like a backwater nobody for fuck’s sake.
Why did you put yourself down and disparage your accomplishments as part of your coverage?
You couldn’t even fucking tell me this when I told you about Archer being the hacker.
You kept the code on the website to yourself and told me you were sorry he did that to us, and let me go on thinking I’d never have a way to connect him to his crimes.
Why the hell would you tell me at all if you wouldn’t tell me then, before I fucked you, gave myself to you, fell in love with you? ”
I feel my anger seeping back into my body.
I grasp the tendrils and yank it back into place where it feels good.
I’ve missed this armor. “Why would I tell you about the Haute List? It’s anonymous for a reason.
No one is supposed to know who’s behind the site, especially the people I write about the most. I was terrified of you finding out, and this is exactly why.
I couldn’t exactly talk myself up or give myself a glowing review when I’m nothing compared to you.
I was being a realist when I wrote about Ainsley Montgomery dating Payton Olsen on the site.
I have nothing to show for myself when you think of it.
I write for a tiny paper that prides itself on picking up every strip mall opening and follows PTA drama like it’s the Supreme Court.
I dropped out of a master’s program and have a few controversial stories that pop up if you dig back far enough, so I keep a low profile to ensure I don’t make big enough waves to uncover them.
When paired with you, I look like an uneducated, lowlife journalist eager to get a story out of you that you’re pity fucking so your family will stop trying to set you up.
I’m a means to an end, and I think my usefulness has come to an end. ”
“Like hell it has.” Payton stands and paces across the room.
“I’m not fucking done with you, but I’m mad as hell right now.
I want to punish you for everything you’ve kept from me, not for what you did.
That I can get past. It’s the secrets and not trusting me that fucking broke me, Ainsley.
You should have come to me as soon as you knew there was a problem with Archer.
You submitted to me, told me you trusted me to take care of you, then wouldn’t let me when you needed it the most. I’m going to remind you of that commitment.
Now get your ass into the bedroom and put your shit back where it belongs. ”
My jaw drops at his assertions, unsure how he could say that. There’s no way he means it. This is unforgivable and will always hang over my head. I don't want to be in a relationship with another man who holds an unfair advantage over me. He’ll use this against me, eventually.
“I don't belong here, Payton!” I explode to my feet and pace on my side of the coffee table, away from him. “I’ve done something unforgivable and need to leave. You can't keep me here against my will.”
“You don't have anywhere to go,” he says, his voice serious and quiet. “Your apartment isn’t ready yet, and that fucking hotel isn’t safe for you. You’re staying here, even if I have to chain you to my bed, which sounds like more fun than punishment if you ask me.”
“Why the hell do you want me to stay?” I huff in exasperation, stopping in front of him and slapping my hands against my thighs. “I fucked up and don't deserve to be here or for you to offer me a place to stay out of pity. I’ll be fine on my own wherever I go.”
“Always such a spitfire, spouting off instead of just fucking listening to me.” He shakes his head, skirting the coffee table and rounding on me. I take a step back, but he’s faster, catching me around the hips and tossing me over his shoulder.
“This is ridiculous!” I pound on his back with my fists and kick my legs until he traps them with his arm.
“You're staying with me and we’ll work through this. You don’t get to run away and hide behind your walls this time. You don't get to shut me out or use your anger as a shield. You’re going to let me in and we’ll fuck it out if that’s what it takes, but we’re doing this together.”
I stop pounding on him as we enter our room—no, this is his room, not mine—and he throws me on the bed.
I scramble up to my knees growling in anger, watching him warily as he unbuttons his cuffs and begins to roll up his sleeves, which is his way of initiating Dom mode.
He’s so calm and collected, his expression almost serene in his determination.
It pisses me off. I’d be more comfortable with him throwing me out on my ass and telling me to never show my face around him again for what I did.
“Why do you still want me?” I scream, tears threateningly close to overflowing. I swipe at my eyes, angry that I can’t control my emotions.
Nothing good has ever come to me without strings attached and ready to take a chunk out of me in exchange.
There’s no reason to expect anything different now when I’ve seen this happen over and over.
I just have to get it through his thick head that he should be done with me and let me go so I can lick my wounds in peace and figure out my next steps.
“I’m the worst thing that’s happened to you.
I’ve attacked your family time and again, shared your secrets, called out your business practices, and made you a spectacle.
You should hate me more than anyone. Why are you insisting I stay when we both know it’s better if I go?
” The tears fall and the weight of my inadequacies and failures forces my head down, unable to meet his eyes.
I stare at my hands and hate the words they’ve typed and the hurt they’ve caused.
His fingers press into the bed, meeting mine in the gentlest reminder of our connection. His voice is the deep, commanding rumble I love when he speaks, sending a shiver through me that speaks to my bruised soul.
“My love isn’t fickle. It won’t be easily swayed by one bad day, or a thousand. I gave you my heart and it’ll always be yours. You can stab it as many times as you want, shred it to pieces, or throw it away—it’ll still belong to you.”
The words I’d use to push him away dry up and blow away like husks of the insecurities he’s worked so hard to overcome to get me to trust him.
My claws retract and anything prickly I could pull around me is missing from my arsenal after not needing them with a man as patient and understanding as him.
He brushes his fingertips against mine and I flex involuntarily.
I want so badly to reach for him. Tears drip off my face and drop onto the back of my hands.
There’s safety in his touch, even when I don’t deserve it.
“I fight for what I’ve earned, and fucking hell, Ainsley, I earned your trust and your heart, you can’t deny that.”
My soul’s undergoing a seismic shift that rattles my foundations, toppling everything I could hide behind. Mortar crumbles and bricks clatter from the walls I’ve erected around myself. His fingers inch up, covering mine, taking my tears as I cry harder with each word he patiently utters.
“You’re mine to take care of, and I want to, now more than ever. Your past and what you’ve hidden won’t change that, and nothing will. We can get through this.”
The last of my walls fall, clouds of dust rising within me as everything I’ve used to keep him out is demolished by his steadfast patience and dedication to what we’ve built together, slowly, despite everything I’ve done to avoid him.
I raise my burning eyes to meet his and find determination, dominance, acceptance, and understanding staring back.
“Why are you doing this? No one’s ever fought for me before. I’m not worth the effort.”
“Every moment with you is worth the effort. But I don’t need a reason, and you don’t have to earn my love.
This is the bare minimum, not the exception.
You are deserving of good things even when you fuck up, and I won’t use my love as currency.
I give it freely because my soul feels its match in you and I’m not letting that go for any reason now that I’ve found it. I love you, Ainsley.”
“I don’t understand how you can be this forgiving and still love me after you found out what I did. I’m always going to expect this to bite me in the ass down the road, or for you to hold it over my head as leverage of some kind,” I admit, voicing my worst fears.
“The only thing biting you in the ass will be my teeth.”