Chapter 45 #2
Music. Comedians. A speech from no other than Hunter Ashwood, looking visibly irritated.
I wondered whether that was his grandson’s fault.
I wondered if said grandson had that same worry—and if it was the reason he dragged me back into our ballroom-sized library, still not open for guests.
Why he kissed me against the closed door, then a shelf, and why I was sitting on a rolling ladder as he stood between my legs.
For distraction.
“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually—” I tried to say between one kiss and the next, but he shook his head before I’d even finished the sentence.
“Not if I have something to say about it. Let’s not talk about him,” he pleaded. A fair enough request, judging by the way he was pressing against my thigh and the urgency in his kisses.
Elliot groaned against my mouth. “There are some unproductive days ahead of us, Maeve. I don’t know if I can let you go to work tomorrow when a single look at you gets me going this hard.”
I giggled into his hair, threw my head back when his lips moved to my neck. “You look so—”
His ringtone interrupted a skin-heating compliment.
I saw in his eyes that he was tempted to ignore the call.
“I really don’t want to answer,” he said, but shuffled out from between my legs anyway.
“But calls only come through on the fifth try, so it’s probably—Rowen,” he said by way of greeting, not sounding pleased about his brother’s interruption.
I wasn’t either, but the bits and pieces I picked up through the speaker were the real problem.
Hunter. Way to you. Any minute.
The door opened. Urgency but no hurry in the way it swung open. Irritation but no anger on Hunter Ashwood’s face when he spotted his grandson, then the girl he almost banged on a ladder in a library. That’s what it must’ve looked like.
That’s what would’ve happened, too.
Which almost made it worse. The stoic gaze, the glued-into-place frown. Those icy-blue eyes that seemed to see through my soul two months ago still had the same ability. I actually shuddered in place.
“Bit too late,” Elliot muttered into the phone, then hung up and let it slip into his pocket. To his grandfather, he said, “Not here. Not now. Please.”
Clearly, he didn’t want witnesses.
Hunter Ashwood didn’t care. He closed the door behind him, let his head tilt by no more than an inch as he took a deep breath. “Come on, Elli,” he said condescendingly. “You potentially uprooted your entire life for Maeve; she can be here. We’re just talking.”
My name coming out of his mouth was chilling, and goose bumps ran all the way down my body. I didn’t think he’d remember me crashing a meeting on my first day. Knowing I was on his radar felt worse.
Elliot shook his head. “Let’s talk,” he agreed. “But she doesn’t have to be part of the conversation.”
I almost bolted, but I could barely move; that’s how thick the air in the room felt. Full of tension and unspoken words and insults, probably.
“Nonsense. She’s as much part of this as you are, Elliot. She is the reason you quit, after all.”
I thought I might throw up. Surely, he’d let me out of the room then.
“A catalyst,” Elliot corrected. “I don’t want this job. It’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life, so I don’t see why I should take it away from someone who does. Who’s good at what she does and—”
“Enough.” The low, steady cadence reverberated off the walls and shut Elliot up. “You want to give money away for the rest of your life rather than make it. I know that, and the foundation is good for public appearance, so you may continue.”
Elliot snorted with a shake of his head, then immediately caught himself at a single look from his grandfather.
“The problem isn’t that you don’t want to work for Adeline Ashwood. Obviously, you don’t. The problem is that you’re willing to throw your entire life away for a woman you didn’t know three months ago. You get reckless when you’re in love. It’s a bad habit.”
I flinched. Mostly at the possibility of being a quick fix or part of a pattern. I didn’t even really mean to. I trusted Elliot, and I knew the only thing Hunter Ashwood was trying to do was condescend to him. His work, his emotions—his entire life.
“It’s not a habit,” Elliot argued.
“Really?” A low laugh, no humor in the sound. “The last girl you were in love with is the reason you’re in this entire mess. If Allegra Amato hadn’t leaked that video, we would’ve all known peace and quiet. The board wouldn’t be on my ass about you and your behavior and the market—”
Hunter Ashwood continued talking, and I was amazed by how easily I was able to drown out one of the most powerful men in the world.
We shared a glance, Elliot and I. Like we had to make sure we’d heard correctly.
Surprise, anger, and hurt flashed through the blue of his eyes before he managed to contain himself again.
Elliot interrupted his grandfather’s monologue. Eerily calm, he asked for clarification. “Allegra did what?”
I wasn’t sure if Hunter Ashwood had ever been interrupted before. By the look on his face, no. “You heard me.”
“And you didn’t think that might’ve been good for me to know?”
“Why?” He shrugged. “You’re not with her anymore. And you weren’t really in a position to get favors, Elliot. In case you don’t remember, that video sent our share prices dropping like flies.”
Elliot groaned, letting his hands wash over his face. He crossed the room until he stood right in front of his grandfather, and while he’d jumped out of a plane before and swam with sharks, standing up to Hunter Ashwood took more courage.
“Not everything is about work and the markets and what the board wants. I’m sure you didn’t start making dresses for grandma because you thought it might make you rich. I’m sure you still proposed to her despite the fact she was poor, and your family hated it.”
And it must’ve been the Eve of Firsts, because Hunter Ashwood was stunned. Opened his mouth, closed it again. Didn’t know what to say until, “You’re saying Maeve is poor and your family hates her?”
“No!” Even I was surprised by his outburst, then the way he caught himself and moved on with a threateningly calm voice again.
“I’m saying I love her, and you should’ve told me about Allegra, and I hate working for something I don’t even want.
I’m saying every now and then, we should have dinner together, and the board shouldn’t come before your family, and your daughter—my mother—is worried about you.
I’m saying I don’t care if you disown me, kick me out, or never see me again, because I don’t want to live the way you do.
“And I’m saying, before something I’ll regret comes out of my mouth, that I need to speak to my ex-girlfriend about boundaries now, and you better leave this room after me.”
Elliot looked over his shoulder for something close to confirmation—permission, maybe?—to follow through. Asking, without words and across the room, if it was okay for him to go.
Which, of course, it was. I’d rather not be stuck in a room with his scary grandfather, but who was I to ruin his perfectly cued exit? With a single encouraging nod, I sent him on his way.
And was left alone with Hunter Ashwood.
It would’ve surprised me if he’d listened to Elliot and followed after him. Instead, he looked at me. For what felt like thirty nauseating minutes but must’ve been no longer than one.
“So, Maeve.” He nodded, his gaze skipping over my dress, the way I still sat on the ladder, probably noticing how my hands were shaking in my lap, just a little bit.
I stood, hid my hands behind my back. Tried to channel some of that energy Mom always had when strange men approached her.
“I did a little bit of reading about you.”
“Seems to be a common occurrence in Ashwood men.” I didn’t sound half as amused or convinced of my words as I wanted to be, but at least I said them at all.
He ignored it, of course. “Graduated with honors. Valedictorian at Thornfield High. I was sad to read about your mother’s passing. So tragic in those formative years.”
I almost cracked. But she was in the room with me now, and Mom would’ve never backed down or shown fear.
So, I didn’t either. “You’re still here, though. That’s good.” I fooled myself into seeing some kind of compassion on his face, but the situation was too intimidating to trust my instincts.
Right in front of me, Hunter Ashwood came to a halt; his hands, like mine, were crossed behind his back. Probably for different reasons, though. “I remember—” But he stopped himself, narrowed in on the dress again. “What are you wearing?”
“Elliot had it made.”
His eyes darted back to mine, but I couldn’t read whether he approved of what I was saying or was planning to have me murdered.
He probably could do it if he really wanted to upset his grandson.
“He didn’t design it, though. Did he?” He looked like he was about to discover facets of Elliot he’d never seen before. I hated to kill that glimmer of hope in his eyes, but I loved it all the same. For Mom.
“Oh, no. I did.”
Slowly, he repeated, “You did.”
Realization flashed across his face. I could see the gears turning in his head before he reached out, letting the fabric glide between his fingertips as he inspected the stitching. “You did,” he repeated once more.
And I think that’s when I won over Hunter Ashwood.