CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Kaia
“Don’t fidget,” Alba said, sliding another pin into my low bun. “We need it to hold.”
“What would I do without you, Albita?”
“Be pregnant.” She spritzed my hair generously with hairspray. “Because I’m the buffer between you, Asher, and the three children you’re too young to have.”
I giggled. “Thank you on behalf of my careless youth. And you’re being dramatic. I only stayed at his place for—”
“Ten nights in the last two weeks. And you were here on the other four only because I emotionally blackmailed you into staying.”
“I love you for it, but in my defense, I’ll barely see him once the racing season starts. We’re making up for past and future lost time.”
Alba hopped off the couch, giggling. “All done. You look like someone about to shock her father.”
I gave her a double thumbs-up. “Mission accomplished, then—but I’m not making my relationship with Ash official today just to spite him.”
Alba gathered the pins and brushes from the low table, shrugging. “Who’d judge you if you were? What he did was beyond shitty. I can’t imagine my dad reading my diary or making the guy who loves me leave me. Your father can’t do that and expect you to do nothing.”
“I’m just sick of hiding.” I grabbed my black clutch and dropped a tube of lip gloss inside. “Ash and I did nothing wrong.”
“You’re adults,” Alba said as the trill of the intercom echoed through the apartment. “Your father will have to accept your relationship, or he’ll lose his only child.”
Losing me hardly worried him. Not being able to control me was worse for someone whose parenting had only two modes—criticism and indifference.
I rushed to the foyer to let Asher in. He’d drive us to Stetbourg.
When he stepped inside—breathtaking in a black suit with a crisp white shirt—I moved straight into his arms.
“Preciosa,” he whispered in my ear, squeezing my hip. “Ready?”
“She is.” Alba handed me my purse. “Please deliver her home after the gala. She’s got a needy best friend who needs company.”
“No promises.” Asher smirked, running his thumb along my jaw. “But it’s up to her.”
“We’ll see.” I winked at him. “For now, let’s focus on getting through the gala.”
***
We reached Forward Racing’s headquarters with barely any time to spare before the official start.
Asher held the car door open, and as soon as I stepped onto the sidewalk, he laced our fingers together. “Ready?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, leaning into him. “But it needs to be done. I refuse to pretend you and I are nothing to each other.”
He guided me toward the entrance. A few men in suits greeted him, and he nodded back without slowing.
“Do you miss the team?” I asked.
He waited for me to step into the lobby, then followed. “The team was fine, and most of the people I worked with were too, but it wouldn’t have gotten me where I wanted. Eventually, I would’ve had to change.”
“I was surprised you signed with Vortex and not a Spanish team,” I said as we wove past clusters of chatting guests on our way to the hall.
Chuckling, Ash dropped a kiss on the top of my head. “You and your faith in me. No Spanish team made an offer, but I also asked Ale to focus on teams here.”
“Why?”
He paused at the threshold. “You.”
That one word warmed my chest. I squeezed his fingers, and he gave me one of those dazzling, tender smiles reserved for me. Then we stepped into the hall.
I spotted my father and Sharon near the stage. His pink tie matched her dress, and they were grinning at each other the way they had at the wedding. Those smiles would vanish once they saw us.
“Let’s go say hi,” Asher said.
Two years ago, we would’ve kept our distance—no closeness, just secret glances. Now my hand was clasped in his.
As we approached, their conversation stopped. Both stared.
My father’s jaw flexed as soon as he saw us. Sharon’s fingers went to her gold necklace, eyes darting like paparazzi might pop out from behind the stage. His narrowed gaze locked on our joined hands.
“What the hell is this?” he hissed. “You’ve lost all shame.”
“Hi, Dad.” I kept my voice even. “This is me coming to the event with my boyfriend.”
Red splotches crept up his neck, rage straining to break loose. “Boyfriend? He’s family. Do you want the whole world to think you’re disgusting? To think I raised a daughter with no morals?”
Asher stepped forward, partly shielding me. “Last time I checked, my last name is Williams. And I’d be careful how you speak to my girlfriend.”
“I can’t believe it, Asher,” Sharon cut in, her voice sharp now, no pretense left. “You barely call, you don’t visit, and when you finally show your face, this is how you repay us? By humiliating us on one of the most important nights of Russell’s career?”
I laughed, sharp as glass. “Sorry to inform you, Sharon, but us showing up together has nothing to do with either of you. Maybe ask why your son doesn’t call. I’ve got a few guesses. Like the fact you’ve never really cared about him.”
She let out a brittle laugh. “And of course, you’d know. You’ve been here what, five minutes? You think clinging to him makes you an expert? He’s a boy who doesn’t know what loyalty is. You’ll find out when he leaves you too.”
“You say you care to make yourself feel better,” I snapped. “But when he was in the hospital, did you visit? I didn’t see you. Neither did Alejandro.”
Asher’s grip tightened on my hand. His eyes on mine—so much love, so much gratitude—were enough to keep me standing.
My father crossed his arms. “So this is your punishment for me not paying for your degree? Dragging that boy in here, humiliating me in front of people who respect me?”
I lifted my chin. “If your daughter’s happiness humiliates you, maybe you shouldn’t have had kids.”
My father’s mouth twisted. “Happiness? This isn’t happiness. This is you throwing away the life I built for you. Everything I gave you—your education, your future—and you torch it for him? For a boy who’s already peaked?”
Asher’s voice dropped low, lethal. “Careful.”
But my father wasn’t finished. “You’re nothing but arm candy for a washed-up racer. And when the world moves on from him, you’ll come crawling back to me, begging for help.”
Before I could answer, Asher cut in, his voice like steel. “She won’t crawl to anyone. She stands on her own. With me, she’ll fly.”
The words seemed to hang in the air. A few heads turned, drawn by the tension even if they couldn’t hear every word. Curious whispers drifted from nearby tables—the kind of murmurs my father hated most.
His jaw clenched so hard the muscles jumped. Sharon’s mouth opened like she had more venom to spill, but I squeezed Asher’s hand and smiled coldly at my father.
“Don’t worry. If the people in this room respect you, they’ll get over the fact your adult daughter is with your wife’s adult son. We’ll be around—if you need us.”
I tugged Asher’s hand and led him toward the exit, ignoring the rage burning my father’s face and Sharon’s snapping mouth, leaving them behind with their forced smiles and bottled fury while the cracks showed through.
Asher quickened his strides.
“Ash.” I giggled, barely able to keep up in three-inch heels. Once we slipped out of the hall, he scanned the corridor, then ducked into a narrow hallway.
He strode past three identical wooden doors before stopping at the fourth. He opened it and ushered me inside.
A meeting room. Oval table. Black chairs. Music and laughter echoed faintly through the closed door.
Asher pressed me against it, his forearms braced on either side of me, caging me in. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His warmth, his scent—none of it helped my self-control. I wanted to fist his hair, drag his mouth to mine.
“Tell you what?” I whispered.
“That you were at the hospital. And Ale kept quiet too.”
I cupped his jaw. “I asked him to.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want you to feel indebted. To stay out of pity. I wanted you to chase your dream and—”
His mouth crashed into mine, hot and wet. I clutched his shoulders to steady myself, knees wobbling as his tongue traced my lips and I opened for him, letting him kiss me deep.
“I would’ve stayed,” he rasped against my mouth, breath rough. “Out of love. Leaving you was the hardest, most painful thing I’ve ever done. If I’d seen you, I would’ve cracked. But never out of fucking pity. It was never one-sided. I’ve always wanted you. Always loved you, even when I fought it.”
My fingertips slid down the back of his neck. “I know, Ash.”
“I’ll repeat it as many times as it takes.” He kissed the corner of my mouth, feather-light. “Or better yet, I’ll show you.”
His hand slipped through the slit of my dress. When he cupped my inner thigh, I gasped, heat flooding me. He chuckled against my neck, then bit softly. “Will you let me fuck you here? You against the door?”
His finger traced my satin-covered slit, slow, unhurried, as if no one might walk in.
“Yes,” I breathed, ignoring the frantic pulse between my legs.
He tugged my panties down, pocketed them with a wicked grin. “For my collection.”
“I knew they didn’t just vanish. What would you even do with them, peque?”
He kissed below my ear. “Not wear them, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I’ll use them—these and the others—as leverage when I want you to stay the night. You’d want them back, right? And I love you without any. Like now.”
Leverage? I was ready to tell him he was ridiculous, but then his thumb pressed against my swollen clit, and all I managed was a whimper.
“That sound turns me on so fucking much,” Asher murmured, dragging his mouth down my neck. “You turn me on. In this dress. Out of it.”
He slid a finger inside me, and I arched into his hand, helpless against the pleasure sparking through me.
Someone could walk in. My father was about to give a speech. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the relentless press of Asher’s fingers and the heat building inside me.
He brought me to the edge, then pulled his hand away and brushed his nose along the shell of my ear. His shaky exhale ghosted over my skin. “Lift your dress.”
He pulled a condom from his wallet, his gaze burning as I gathered the fabric inch by inch.
Asher sheathed himself and scooped me up, leaving me no choice but to wrap my legs around his waist.
He pressed me against the door. Trembling with anticipation, I sought his mouth.
He seized my lips hungrily, just as desperate as I was.
Slowly, he lowered me onto his cock. I rocked my hips to take him in, his forehead dropping to my shoulder, hands gripping my ass. “Fuck, Kaia.”
I moved again. With a groan against my skin, Asher thrust deeper. The air caught in my lungs at how completely he filled me.
He moved in and out, teasing me with shifts in pace and depth. Each slam, each retreat, echoed in wet, slippery sounds.
I reached between us, circling my swollen clit. Asher’s fingers dug into my ass while his mouth marked my neck.
He could’ve branded me, and I wouldn’t have cared.
“More,” I whispered when he slowed. “Please, Ash. More.”
He kissed me hard. “Touch yourself faster. You’re so close.”
His next thrust rattled the door. I bit his shoulder to muffle a cry as pleasure exploded—fireworks bursting through me while my walls clenched around him.
He jerked his hips forward, body shuddering.
His kiss was open-mouthed, messy, desperate. Then he carried me to the table, setting me down as aftershocks coursed through me.
He straightened my dress, fixed his clothes, then cradled my face in his palms. “I love you.”
Our mouths met in a slow, lingering kiss.
Somewhere in the building, people clapped.
I grinned. “Should we bow?”
“Well,” Asher murmured, chuckling, “I guess we missed your father’s speech.”
***
We also missed the start of dinner. By the time we returned to the hall, waiters were serving the main course.
My father shot us his signature disapproving glare. If he knew what we’d been doing in that meeting room, he’d have thrown us out—not that we wanted to be here.
The beef tenderloin in Cognac sauce was delicious, but tension at the table strangled my appetite. I pushed mushrooms around my plate until Asher slid an arm over my shoulders.
“What’s wrong? You okay?”
My father’s fork clanged against porcelain. “Can we not do this at the table?” he barked.
Beside me, Asher stiffened. “Do what? Care when she’s not eating?”
“Act like you’ve never been taught manners. You can maul each other in private. This is an important event.”
Asher let out a caustic laugh. “I don’t need your permission to hug my girlfriend. And you’re the last person qualified to lecture on manners.”
Dad’s face flushed crimson. “I didn’t invite you here to antagonize me, but I should’ve remembered trouble follows you everywhere.”
He was being cruel, and I knew he wouldn’t stop.
“He isn’t causing trouble,” I said. “You are. If people are staring, it’s because of you. If our presence bothers you so much, we can leave.”
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a mocking smile curling his lips. “It might be for the best. We can do without more embarrassment.”
Sharon toyed with the diamond stud in her ear and cleared her throat. “Honey, maybe that’s too much.”
Did she actually disagree with him, or just worry people would notice if we walked out? Either way, I was done enduring his rudeness.
“You never cared before, why start now?” I grabbed my purse. “Don’t worry. We were ready to leave anyway. Enjoy the rest of your meal.”
We shouldn’t have come.
Asher rose without hesitation, sliding my chair out and taking my hand as I stood. Together, we left the hall, crossing the lobby in silence, leaving behind the din of voices and the clink of cutlery.
Outside, he pulled me into his arms. “Are you okay?”
I pressed my nose to his neck, breathing him in, letting the scent settle me. “I will be. I can’t expect him to be reasonable. He never has been. At least now he knows we’re together.”
“I’m sorry.” Asher kissed my forehead. “It’d be easier if they respected our choice, but I already knew they wouldn’t.”
Just as I knew, deep down, that my relationship with my father was finished. Wilted like a plant left without water or sunlight.
After years of neglect and dozens of therapy sessions, I finally accepted the truth: trying to revive it would only waste my time.