Chapter 3 Asher #2
I can’t believe that this situation is an actual reality for me.
It feels like a new low. Now I stare between the photos of the two women, trying to decide which one to pick.
As if it’s that simple. As if I can only assume they’ll say yes.
As if it won’t be the most awkward and insulting conversation to have with them, to ask them to be my girlfriend for my image’s sake.
I can’t think of how to delicately explain that I don’t actually want a relationship, and that our “relationship” will certainly have an end date attached to it.
How can I expect them to agree to those stipulations?
Especially when both of them already have their own money and status.
They’re both well-known heiresses. They don’t need my money or my status to climb the social ladder.
Of course if it was real, they’d both probably love the idea of adding my money and status to theirs; that’s what they’re used to.
But it isn’t real, and I won’t lie and pretend that it is.
I let out a sigh, annoyed. How is this scheme actually going to work?
“I think we should call it a day,” Matthew says, calling everyone to attention. “It’s lunchtime, and Mr. Langford has a full schedule of meetings this afternoon. You all keep at it, and we’ll reconvene tomorrow to decide on the final candidate.
“The event list Mr. Langford has been assigned has been emailed to all of you. Each of those events is a possibility for good PR, and we need a strategy for each of them. I also want ideas on how and when we break the story.”
All I can say is thank God for Matthew. I was right to bring him down. This meeting would have been an absolute disaster without him. I feel like with all the shit he’s going to have to deal with over the next few months, I’d better give him a generous raise. God knows he’ll deserve it.
Everyone begins gathering their things and standing from the table, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ms. Hale wince and suck in a breath when she gets to her feet.
What’s wrong with her? Matthew notices as well and tilts his head at her.
She looks down, seemingly embarrassed, and packs up her laptop.
I hang back with Matthew while everyone files out of the conference room, and I can’t help but notice Ms. Hale limping, though it looks like she’s trying very hard to hide it.
“Ella, darling, why are you limping?” Matthew asks, already on a first-name basis with her.
That’s yet another reason I love him as my assistant.
He never feels bashful or reserved about saying what’s on his mind.
Which means he gets things done quickly and efficiently without bullshit getting in the way.
He pushes back at me, too, which most bosses would hate, but I secretly appreciate.
I’m well aware that men like me are used to getting their way.
And I do like getting my way. But Matthew is like a tether to reality for me.
He has no problem telling me when I’m crossing lines, and for someone like me, that can be necessary at times.
Ms. Hale stops and turns around, now clearly wincing in pain.
“And, oh my god, what are you wearing?” Matthew continues, holding his hand out in front of him and moving it in a circular motion. “You are a Barbie, babe. Why are you wearing Skipper’s clothes?”
Ms. Hale looks down at herself and chuckles darkly.
For the first time since she crept into the meeting late and awkward, I really look at her clothes.
Now I want to wince. Matthew does have a point.
I don’t profess to know much about women’s fashion, but even I know this isn’t good.
Although, I guess I don’t really care what she wears as long as she’s good at her job, which I now have some hope for.
Matthew makes a disgusted noise. “Is that why you’re limping?” he demands, pointing at her feet. “What is on your feet? You look like you’re in pain just standing in those . . . I would call them shoes, but I can’t bring myself to.”
“Yes,” she admits, wincing again. “These are not my shoes. They are a size too small, and my feet are killing me.”
“Again, why, darling, are you wearing clothes and shoes that are too small?”
“It’s a long, ridiculous, and sad story.”
“Call me intrigued. This sounds like some prime tea.”
Ms. Hale laughs, flashing her beautiful smile again.
“It is. My life right now is a piping hot mess of tea. It’s so unreal that it’s like a bad movie.”
“What are you doing for lunch?” Matthew demands. “You must go with me; I want to hear all of it. Every last detail.”
Oh, no. Matthew is also like a dog on a bone.
When he finds someone or something he’s interested in, he goes all in.
And ever since Ms. Hale spoke up and made the team understand what Matthew and I were trying to convey, he’s set his eyes of approval on her.
Which means they’ll be fast friends—Matthew will insist.
“Okay,” Ms. Hale—Ella—concedes. I suppose I should get used to calling her by her name since we’ll be working together for the foreseeable future.
She turns to leave, hobbling again.
“Oh, take them off and throw them in the trash where they belong,” Matthew says, irritated. “You can’t keep walking in those.”
“It’s these or my old sneakers.”
“Even old sneakers are better than those.”
Ella collapses into the nearest chair then bends down and undoes the sparkly strap from its buckle. I can’t help but agree with Matthew on this, too. Those shoes look like something a little girl would wear if she was playing dress up. So, why would she wear them to work?
Matthew snatches the shoes from Ella, then carries them to the trash can outside the conference room and unceremoniously dumps them in.
Ella pulls an old pair of sneakers and socks out of her large purse and puts them on.
What is the story with this woman? I’m sure I’ll hear about it later; Matthew will get to the bottom of it, without a doubt.
Ella is blushing furiously, and I feel bad that I’m still here, witnessing this strange moment. I know it must be embarrassing for her, but it can’t be helped. I’ve got to go over some things with Matthew before we head to lunch, and he is a man on a mission at the moment.
Ella lets out a groan of relief as she stands, and the sound of it shocks me. Goosebumps rise on the back of my neck, and my cock twitches in my pants. What the fuck was that? I clear my throat.
“Matthew,” I say as he holds the door open for Ella. “I need to go over my afternoon itinerary with you before you leave.”
“Yes,” he says, waving dismissively at me. He gives Ella a stern look. “Meet me at the east entrance of the building in five minutes. I’m taking you to lunch, and I’m expecting to pay for food and entertainment, so your story better be worth it.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” She laughs again. It’s a beautiful sound, high and clear. My cock twitches again. What in the hell is going on with me? Why is my cock jumping at every little sound she makes?
I need to get my shit together. I would say I need to get laid, but that’s what got me into this fucking mess, so that’s off the table for now. Because if this scheme is going to work, I need to be on my A game. I’ve never been one to lose or fail.
And I don’t plan to start now.