Chapter 13
Ben
The second I made that bid, I felt the shift.
Not from Lila, I expected her to be pissed, but from the collective force of her inner circle.
Now I’m walking straight into enemy territory.
Sophie. Willow. Olivia. They close ranks the moment I step closer, forming a human shield around Lila like she needs protecting from me. Their expressions vary—Olivia’s is sharp, unreadable, Sophie’s assessing, Willow’s unimpressed, but the underlying message is the same:
You’re not welcome here.
Yet, here I am.
I take a slow sip of my whiskey, letting them look their fill.
I’ve already done my homework on them.
Had Shaw dig up everything in Lila’s world.
Sophie Parkes, corporate strategist at Kingsley Global Strategies, engaged to Marcus Kingsley.
Willow Rivera, librarian. Runs Silverbeck Library.
Olivia Harper, HR director at Iron Link Engineering. Single mother to four-year-old Maeve.
They all met through Sophie’s book club—Books That Bang.
I nearly choked on my whiskey when I read the report.
Lila reads smut.
Not just romance—filthy books. A slow smirk tugs at my lips. Yeah. That tracks.
Now I can’t stop picturing it—Lila curled up in bed, eyes skimming over something indecent, cheeks flushed, breath catching.
Jesus.
I take another slow sip of my whiskey, forcing my focus back on the present, on the three women currently sizing me up like they’re debating whether to tear me apart now or let Lila finish the job later.
Get your shit together, Ashcroft.
Because right now? They look like they want to lynch me.
Lila’s standing just behind them, arms folded so tight it’s a wonder she hasn’t cut off circulation. Her glare is pure murder.
Good. I’d be disappointed if she wasn’t still pissed.
I consider my options.
Rising to the fight would be easy. Giving them attitude, matching their energy. But that’s what Lila expects. She wants me to be the arrogant, insufferable bastard she’s built up in her head.
So, naturally, I decide to do the one thing guaranteed to really piss her off.
I turn on the charm.
A slow, easy smile. Relaxed shoulders. The picture of calm, effortless amusement. Like I haven’t just walked into the lion’s den.
Like I belong here.
Sophie tilts her head, unimpressed. “You must be Ben Ashcroft. The man who just spent ten thousand pounds on an evening with our Lila.”
I raise my glass slightly. “Worth every penny.”
Lila gives me a saccharine smile, all teeth. “It’s non-refundable.”
Then, before Sophie can sharpen that unimpressed look into a full-blown verbal evisceration, I glance around the ballroom and let my expression soften, just enough.
“You’ve done something incredible here,” I say, my voice smooth but sincere. “The turnout, the fundraising, the cause itself. You should be proud.”
That catches her off guard. Just for a second.
Marcus, standing beside her, watches me carefully, his expression unreadable. Sophie tilts her head, lips pressing together, considering me like she’s trying to decide if I’m actually being genuine or just laying the groundwork for whatever game she thinks I’m playing.
The truth?
I mean it.
I might be here for Lila, but I can respect what they’ve done.
The fundraiser isn’t just another glitzy event for rich people to pat themselves on the back—it actually matters.
The energy in the room, the way the whole community is truly invested in raising money, the way Sophie’s father is being treated like a person and not just the face of the cause… it’s impressive.
Sophie studies me for a beat longer, her sharp gaze assessing. Then, just as I think she might push back again, she exhales, a small, genuine smile breaking through. “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer this time. “It’s a very generous donation, we appreciate it.”
“So, Ben,” Olivia says, arms crossed, gaze assessing. “You’re a businessman. Surely, ten grand is pocket change to you.”
I shrug, taking another slow sip of whiskey. “Depends on what I’m buying.”
Willow narrows her eyes. “And what exactly do you think you’re buying?”
I meet her stare evenly. “An evening of baking and floral arrangements, obviously.”
Willow doesn’t blink. “Is that’s all you’re expecting?”
Her tone is casual, but there’s an edge beneath it. A quiet warning wrapped in politeness. A test.
I keep my expression easy, letting the moment stretch just long enough to make them wonder. “Unless Lila’s planning to throw in a bonus round of business strategy consulting, then yes. That’s all I’m expecting.”
Sophie hums. “Because if you think you’re getting anything else, I assure you—”
Olivia finishes for her, “—you’re not.”
I exhale through my nose, amused. “Duly noted.”
Lila retorts. “These are going to be the most expensive rock cakes you’ve ever made.”
Willow chimes. “Or suffered through.”
I smirk, shifting my weight lazily. “Rock cakes? That’s what you’re planning to make?”
“Depends,” she fires back. “Do you prefer them dry and inedible, or just mildly disappointing?”
I let my smirk deepen, tilting my head. “I was thinking iced fingers…” Lila freezes for half a second, barely noticeable, but I catch it. The way her throat moves as she swallows. The flicker of something behind her eyes.
She recovers. She tilts her head, expression flat. “I was thinking more along the lines of a plain digestive.”
I arch a brow, fighting back a grin. “Come on, Lila. Not even a ginger nut?”
Her expression doesn’t waver. “Nope. Digestive. No chocolate. No caramel. Just dry. Bland. Functional.”
Willow winces. “Brutal.”
I chuckle, low and amused. “Guess I’ll just have to make the best of it.”
Lila lifts her chin. “You do that.”
But before Lila can fire back, Marcus’ voice cuts through the air.
“Ashcroft.”
I turn, finding him watching me with that unreadable businessman’s stare.
“We need to finalise your donation,” he says smoothly, though we both know that’s not why he’s here.
I exhale slowly, setting my whiskey down. “Of course. Excuse us ladies, wouldn’t want any paperwork issues, would we?”
I adjust my cuffs.
We step into a quieter room across the hallway.
The energy shifts instantly. Marcus doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.
He moves with quiet precision, lifting a heavy crystal decanter and pouring a generous measure of Macallan 25, the deep amber liquid catching the low light.
He slides it across the counter without a word.
I take the glass. Old-school. Serious. The kind of whisky you don’t just drink, you respect.
Clearly Marcus does, the man knows his whisky.
“That’s a sizeable donation,” he muses, his tone casual. Too casual. He picks up his own glass, swirling the amber liquid once before taking a slow sip. “Generous.” A pause. “But I’m not impressed.”
I take the glass, letting the weight of it settle in my palm. “Didn’t do it to impress you.”
Marcus exhales through his nose, unimpressed. “No, I imagine not.” He sets his drink down with deliberate ease, then turns his full attention on me. “You might be used to throwing money around for whatever you want,” he says smoothly, “but Lila isn’t some escort you can buy for an evening.”
The words land like a slap. My grip tightens around the glass, a sharp heat flaring in my chest.
“I never have,” I bite out, my voice low and edged with warning. “I never will.”
Marcus tilts his head slightly, studying me like he’s testing for cracks. “Good,” he says, taking another sip of his drink.
He takes a step closer, his voice low, measured. “You screw with her. I dismantle you. Simple.”
I take a sip slowly, unfazed. “Sounds expensive.”
His gaze hardens. “I can afford it.”
The silence stretches, taut and unyielding. Neither of us moves.
I’m pissed.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Kingsley.”
Marcus lifts his glass, his gaze steady, unreadable.
“I know enough. You left. You’re back and now, for whatever reason, you’ve decided Lila is your business again.
” He sets the glass down with deliberate precision, his voice cool, controlled.
“So let me make something clear. Hurt her, and you deal with me.”
I take a sip of my whiskey, watching him carefully. “You always this protective over your fiancée’s friends?”
He doesn’t flinch. “When they’re as important to Sophie as Lila is? Yes.”
Something sharp twists in my chest.
Marcus isn’t here for threats or bravado. He’s here because he cares. Because Lila matters to Sophie, and that means she matters to him. That’s what Lila’s always deserved. Someone who doesn’t leave. I shove the thought aside before it can take root.
For a split second, something tightens in my chest. Protective is one thing, but this? The sheer intensity of it?
However, a flush of something ridiculous creeps in before I shove it down.
Marcus tilts his head slightly, like he’s clocked the moment of hesitation. “Relax, Ashcroft. Sophie is the only woman for me.”
I exhale slowly, forcing a smirk of my own. “Never thought otherwise.”
Marcus doesn’t say anything, just gives me one last, sharp look before draining his drink and stepping back.
I hold his stare, the tension between us taut, charged.
“I’m not here to hurt her,” I say finally, my voice steady. Certain.
Marcus exhales slowly, tilting his head, considering. Then, with an almost imperceptible shift, he leans back slightly, his grip loosening around his glass, but not before I catch the lingering edge in his expression.
“Then maybe you should start proving it.”
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