Chapter 22 Ella #2
Asher must read my mood because he doesn’t push.
He introduces me to people and then talks to them about whatever it is they want from him, all the while keeping me next to him and keeping a comforting hand on my back.
I don’t feel left out, but I don’t feel forced to participate either.
And tonight, I decide to take that as a win.
Near the end of the party, I’m about at my limit. No matter how many times Asher scowls or straight on confronts someone for their treatment toward me, I can’t seem to escape the withering stares and gossip. Finally, I reach the end of my rope, and I lean in to whisper in Asher’s ear.
“How much longer? I don’t know how much more I can take.”
Asher’s head snaps toward me. His eyes take me in as he cups my cheek. He leans down and plants a kiss on my forehead.
“Then we’re done. Let’s go,” he murmurs against my skin.
“We don’t have to leave now, now. I was just wondering what the timeline is.”
Asher takes my face in both of his hands. “You’ve already been ridiculously accommodating with this bullshit party. If you’re done, then we’re out of here. I won’t ask you for anymore tonight. Plus, I’m pretty fucking done, myself.”
Asher nods at Robert, who then speaks into his cuff, calling the car. Then the rest of our security detail make their way from their posts toward us as we exit the ballroom. Whispers and titters follow us, and I lean into Asher’s side, not wanting to deal with any more of it.
“Don’t give these fuckers any more of your attention,” Asher says, noticing my unease.
“I’m trying not to. But it’s embarrassing to be on the receiving end of their gossip and vitriol all night.”
“I know, baby. But if it makes you feel any better, they whisper about me and my less than sparkling past as well.”
I let out a defeated sigh. “Yeah, they do. But it’s different.
They may whisper about what a man whore they think you are, but none of them actually care about that as long as one of them gets to ‘land’ you in the future.
It’s such a double standard. I am looked at as a slut because of a dance video while you’re looked at as a harmless playboy.
They whisper about you because you are the prize.
They whisper about me because I’m the poor girl with no social connections that you’re denigrating yourself with.
I can’t tell you how many times tonight I heard something about how you’ll tire of me soon and toss me aside. ”
“Well, they’re dead wrong about that.”
We climb into the car, and I sit in the middle seat so I can rest my head on Asher’s shoulder while we drive, still needing to be near him.
“I wish I could say that things will be different in the future,” Asher says through a sigh, “but I don’t know that they will.
This particular news cycle will pass, but people will probably always whisper about how I am with someone who isn’t from a powerful family.
I don’t give a fuck. I don’t want any of those cold, lifeless, spoiled heiresses.
I’ve been around them my entire fucking life, and none of them hold any appeal for me.
I had a list presented to me, remember, and I turned that entire list down. ”
“I know. But if our relationship continues, you’re not going to regret me one day?”
I hate to speak the words out loud, exposing this vulnerable side to my thoughts, but it can’t be helped.
I dealt with these insecurities when Asher and I first started “dating,” but back then, our relationship wasn’t real.
He wasn’t actually choosing me. I wasn’t meant to be a real partner with a future.
But now, with the things he says, and the actions he keeps showing me, it seems like we’re on that path more and more each day.
And now those old insecurities are festering.
I was not born into this world, and it’s clear that I’m not accepted by the people who live in it.
Asher says it doesn’t bother him, and maybe it doesn’t now, but what about in the future?
“Never. I have never subscribed to the classism ideology bullshit of this world. Which I know sounds fucking ironic since I benefit from it every second of every day. But I understand that it’s a mirage and nothing more.
Most of the people in that party are fucking miserable, and only their money and their status give them the illusion of joy.
But that’s just not enough for me. What’s the point of having all this money if you’re miserable?
If you have no one in your life who cares about you?
I want to enjoy my life, and you are what I enjoy.
“I know it sounds hollow to say just ignore them, but unfortunately, that’s our only option.
We can let their petty actions eat away at our joy or we can let it run off our backs and say fuck them and live on our own terms and be happy.
Those people think they matter so goddamn much when in reality, they don’t matter at all. ”
I lift my head and look at him. “How do you always know what to say to make me feel better?”
He smirks. “Because I’m not trying to manufacture words to make you feel better. I’m just speaking the truth. And the truth is that I’m crazy about you, and you’re my priority. Everyone and everything else can take a fucking back seat.”
“You’re pretty perfect, Mr. Langford.”
His blue eyes spark with mischief. And lust?
“Hmm. Would you reward that perfection with a little something we discussed earlier?” He bends down and nips at my bottom lip. “A little private showing, perhaps?”
“Are you shamelessly asking for a lap dance?”
He nips at me again. “Absolutely. Is it working?”
I let out a breathy laugh. “I could be amenable to that. But only if it’s an official dare.”
He chuckles as he brushes a featherlight kiss over my lips. “I love that fucking game.”