Chapter 19 Ella
ELLA
“Are you both ready for this?” Catherine asks as the car approaches the curb.
“Yes,” Asher bites out, his jaw clenched.
Tonight is a lot. It’s more than a lot. Any appearance Catherine makes is a big deal. But Catherine appearing with her son and his girlfriend? Huge. Worldwide headline huge. And I can see the enormity of it weighing on Asher. It’s weighing on me as well.
“I think so,” I say through a shaky breath.
“You’ll be wonderful, Ella dear,” Catherine says to me, her voice warm and reassuring. Her eyes roam over the necklace and earrings I’m wearing, and I swear I see a glimmer of tears gather in her eyes. “You look very beautiful, and the jewelry suits you. I’m not sure if I told you that or not.”
I flush under her praise, and the deeper meaning behind her words. “Thank you, Mrs. Langford. You look incredible, yourself.”
“No more Mrs. Langford. Call me Catherine.”
I nod, doing my best to swallow my nerves.
Flashes from cameras flicker so quickly it feels like we’re pulling up inside a club.
But this is no club. This is a veritable onslaught of paparazzi.
Once I let it slip to a “source” that Asher’s parents, specifically his mother, would be accompanying Asher and me to the symphony, the news spread like wildfire.
Catherine looks at me, her expression serious.
“Your life has already been altered quite a lot in these past few weeks, but this will add another layer of insanity. I’m not trying to scare you, dear girl, I just want to give you one last chance to change your mind. If you need to, we can drive away.”
My throat bobs on a swallow. “Thank you, Catherine. But I’m okay. I know this comes with the territory, and if this is what is required to be with Asher, then I accept it.”
Asher’s hand on my thigh squeezes at my words.
I turn and catch his gaze, and his eyes are full of fire.
I know he’s fighting his anxiety, but I can also see the hope and determination in his eyes.
If we want to be together, truly be together, this is a necessary step.
We have to show the world that Catherine Rothschild Langford approves of me since we can’t escape the fascination the world has with her.
“You’ll be wonderful, both of you,” Harrington says warmly. “This is a big day for our family.”
Our conversation is cut off as the car pulls to a stop.
Cheers ring as the car door opens and Harrington steps out first, then the cheers blaze to a deafening roar when Catherine follows.
Cameras flash like mad, and the energy surrounding the car is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
Catherine always draws a massive amount of attention, but adding Asher and me in a relationship to the equation is like pouring gasoline on an already roaring fire.
“Are you okay?” I ask Asher, knowing his anxiety must be off the charts.
He brushes his thumb along my cheek, nodding slowly. “Like you said, this comes with the territory. It still scares the shit out of me, but I know it’s necessary. The bigger question is, are you ready?”
I let out a shaky breath. “As ready as I can be.”
He lifts my hand to his mouth and places a kiss on it. “You’re amazing.”
With that, Asher climbs out of the car to another wave of cheers, and the electric buzz of anticipation seems to bubble up in the atmosphere.
He turns and holds out a hand for me, and the crowd goes almost as crazy as it did for Catherine.
I slide out of the car and stand next to Asher, smiling for the crowd and the cameras—praying this all goes well—knowing these pictures will live on the internet for all time.
At least I’m dressed well for the occasion.
The emerald gown I’m wearing is fitted but elegant, and my hair flows in simple but classic curls.
But it’s the jewels I’m draped in that will be the real story tomorrow.
I’m still in shock that Asher wanted me to wear something with that level of connection to his mother in such a public way, but I guess I shouldn’t be.
Asher doesn’t do things by halves. He’s either all in or all out.
It’s a miracle we made it through the beginning of our relationship when it was merely a PR stunt.
His acting skills are atrocious and almost ruined everything before it really began.
It was only once we gave in and decided to stop acting that we made positive headlines about our relationship.
Because that’s the thing; so much of our relationship just feels inevitable.
I’ve never believed in soul mates, but now that I’m with Asher, it’s hard to deny that if they exist, he’s mine and I’m his.
And now he’s proudly displaying that for the world.
Harrington and Catherine come to stand near us, and the four of us walk through the building’s entryway together, blinded by the insatiable flashing of cameras.
Catherine walks next to me, giving the photographers exactly what they want, a side-by-side photo of Mrs. Catherine Rothschild Langford and what everyone will assume is a possible future Mrs. Langford.
And at this point, I’m hoping for that, too.
At intermission, Catherine and I split from the Langford men and head to the bathroom. The line is ridiculously long, and we immediately begin to attract stares and a crowd. Both of our respective security officers decide waiting in line isn’t going to work and usher us away.
“You’ll have to wait and go once the performance picks back up unless we find a more private bathroom,” Jenkins says, apologetically.
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’d rather not pee with a crowd gawking at me the entire time, anyway.”
Catherine chuckles beside me, but her laugh peters out when we arrive back at our box and find the last person I want to see.
Katrina Antonov.
Anger bubbles inside me at the sight of her trying to get close to Asher. His security has blocked her, but not for lack of her trying to get to him.
“What the hell does she want now?” I mutter through clenched teeth.
“I know it was you!” Katrina shrieks, pushing against Robert while screaming at Asher. “I know it was you!”
What was him?
She looks crazed, and an idea sparks to life. I take out my phone and start recording.
“How could you do this?” Katrina shouts. “How dare you, Asher! How dare you!”
Asher stands impassive, looking at Katrina with boredom.
“Why couldn’t you just listen? We could have had everything! We could have joined our forces, joined our families, but you just won’t listen! We tried to be fair! But you denied us at every turn! And now you’ve . . . you’ve . . .” She breaks into a sob. “I’ll kill you! How dare you!”
At a nod from Asher, Katrina is hauled off her feet and forcibly removed by two security officers.
I stop recording and notice the gathered crowd.
Several people around us are also recording Katrina’s antics, and I tamp down the smug smile that pulls at my lips.
I get to work as security breaks up the crowd and leads me back to our box.
I send the video to Emily and Matthew with a text on our group message.
I need you two to release this ASAP. Put out the story that Katrina is caught up in a jealous rage at the symphony.
Include an official statement that Asher is not and has not been involved with Katrina in over twelve years, but his relationship with me has infuriated Katrina to the point where she’s been stalking him for the past few weeks to get back with him.
Do whatever you have to do to paint her as an unhinged ex.
A minute later, Emily texts me back.
Emily: Damn, she’s batshit crazy. What was that all about?
I don’t know yet. Security is de-escalating the situation as we speak, and I haven’t talked to Asher about it yet.
Matthew: Hell yes. We’ll take this bitch down.
A lot of people were recording, so this is going to hit social media any second. Act fast. And thank you!
I put my phone away and head straight for Asher.
“Are you okay? What was all that about?”
He wraps me in his arms, and I try ignoring the people still recording us.
I don’t love it, but I can’t deny that it will help our cause.
I have no idea what is going on with Katrina, but I know she just did my job for me.
I’ve been searching for a way to bring her down, and she just handed it to me on a silver platter.
Now, painting the rest of her family in a bad light will be easy, and when the Antonovs fall, there will be a narrative to back it up.
Asher leans down to whisper in my ear. “I warned Katrina that if her family threatened me or made a move against me, I’d retaliate.”
Katrina’s words hit me, and realization strikes.
“What did you do?”
“What I promised I would.”
He doesn’t elaborate, not now, not here, but I know in my gut he must have done something big.
What else would prompt Katrina to make a public spectacle of herself like that?
She must have seen enough chatter about Asher’s whereabouts tonight to know where he was and decided to ambush him.
As if that would work. But it’s clear she wasn’t in a rational frame of mind.
A sliver of guilt worms through me at my plan.
I hate the way the media lies about me and Asher, and yet that’s exactly what I’ve set in motion against Katrina.
It’s hypocritical. It’s dirty; I can’t deny that.
But then I think of Asher’s grandfather.
I think of Asher as a boy almost killed in that crash.
I think of a week ago when he had a gun pressed to his head.
Katrina may not have been the one to do those things, but her family is the architect of it all, and she’s playing right alongside them.
She’s the one who threatened Asher on behalf of her family.
She has no problem with the hell the Antonovs and Volkovs have caused Asher.
She feels no remorse that one of Asher’s employees was paralyzed in the “accident” ordered by her father.
I don’t know what Asher’s done, but I know what Katrina’s family has done. The thought of his life on the line makes me murderous, and any guilt I feel disappears just as quickly as it came. Katrina dug her own grave, and I’ll happily toss the first shovel of dirt onto her casket.
Asher takes me by surprise by cupping my cheeks and kissing me. Then he leads us back to our box where his parents take their seats beside us. Asher takes out his phone, clearly typing out a text, and then nods silently to his father.
Whatever is going on will not be revealed right now, but one thing is clear: the four of us will remain a united front until we’re out of the public eye. We’ll finish this night out as if nothing happened, and we’ll show the world that nothing ruffles the Langfords’ feathers.
Especially not crazy exes.