Chapter 16 Ella #2
He gives me his devilish, “I own you,” smile again, I want to slap it off his face. But I also want to kiss him until I don’t remember my own name. Fuck me and my idiot of a brain.
As we make our way back across the floor, I notice the looks he shoots some of my male coworkers. His glares could melt ice. Is this just about a united front? Or is there more to it than that? This is starting to feel like a very intentional little show.
We make it past the groups of cubicles to the front of the floor, near the elevators, and my suspicions seem to be being confirmed more and more.
Not only is Asher making a show of holding my hand and glaring at all the men who dare to look in my direction, but he now pulls me close as we wait for the meeting in the conference room to end before going in for the next meeting.
I rise onto my toes and lean close to Asher’s ear. “What was that all about?”
“All what?” His voice is a little too innocent.
“That seemed like more than a, ‘united front.’ That seemed like a marking of territory.”
His eyes shine with mirth. I can see out of the corner of my eye that people are still standing, peering over the tops of their cubicles, and I can tell Asher is acutely aware of that fact as well. He turns to me and places his hand possessively on my waist again.
“You never miss a thing, Ella. I like that about you,” he whispers in my ear, leaning much closer than is necessary.
“Yes, that was about both a united front and a marking of territory, as you say. Jenkins let me know the things he heard and saw as the two of you made your way through the building this morning. I didn’t like it.
So, I thought I’d come down and remind the men of this company who you belong to and what will happen if they can’t keep their eyes and thoughts about you to themselves. ”
I take a stuttering breath, and the door to the conference room opens. Asher leads me in, and we make our way to the front of the table where I take the seat next to Asher, the same one I sat in on Monday. Just three days ago. When everything was so, so different.
The meeting goes surprisingly well, and despite Asher’s mercurial mood from earlier, he’s mostly receptive to the ideas and strategies we present. He only has a bit of feedback, and overall, the feeling of relief is palpable in the room.
We’re near the end of the meeting when notifications begin to ping on all of our phones. We all pause what we’re doing to check the notification. An entertainment website has published an article about me.
“Ella Hale, the Langford Holdings Marketing Employee Sleeping Her Way to the Top.”
Shit.
I want to throw my phone. But then I try my best to remove emotion from the situation.
I have to look at this like the PR team member I am and not the woman being shredded in the article.
A take like this is to be expected. Of course people will assume a woman would sleep her way to the top.
It’s the easy story to write. And it will definitely sell tabloids and get clicks on their website.
We all silently read through, taking notes. Some of the article isn’t too bad, other parts are infuriating, and of course, all of it is false. But that’s what we’re here for.
We shift away from the long-term strategy of events and dates and plans, and turn our attention to devising a strategy to combat this first piece of disparaging press.
After a bit, we conclude that ignoring it is best and proving them wrong about my character is even better.
Part of Asher’s strategy on his end is to participate in various charitable efforts, which he does anyway, but there will be more events added to the list and more publicity at the events. The team suggests I do the same.
I squirm in my seat. It feels backward and selfish to try to highlight myself for doing charity, but the team reminds me that that is often a necessary part of charity.
Bringing a platform to a cause gives that cause visibility, which brings in more help, more volunteers, and most importantly, more money. And it will also help my image.
Gross. But true. Ugh.
They also suggest a change of gown for the gala Saturday night.
Our initial plan was to look a bit sexy and sophisticated to fit in with the image of what a woman dating Asher Langford should look like.
But now we’ve decided to go with a little more of a conservative vibe.
Still sophisticated, still beautiful, but more subdued in the sex appeal department.
I must not look like I am simply a vixen looking to get ahead.
I must look like a viable partner. Asher agrees with the direction, and the meeting ends with both a feeling of relief at his satisfaction with our work and the determination to get going on this new task.
“I think we can start on some of these ideas now,” Emily says. “How about we meet at Marco’s and brainstorm during lunch? That will give us all afternoon to finish up since we now need to get some sort of charity opportunity put together for next week.”
“I know what I’d like to do for charity,” I say. “I already do it once a month, anyway.”
“Oh, good. What do you have in mind?”
“The local school district’s food pantry.”
“What is that?” Josh asks.
“It’s a food service for children with food insecurity.
People donate non-perishable food, and volunteers put together lunchboxes for children to take home on the weekends when they won’t have access to their school meals.
I usually volunteer the first Friday of the month to help pack bags; that’s why I come in late that day. ”
“Oh, yes. I forgot you do that,” Emily says. “That’s perfect. You can go next Friday morning, no need to wait until next month. I can call the school district and get details on how to make it work.”
“I will have Matthew call as well to discuss security measures,” Asher says.
Emily looks at him. “Security measures?”
Asher lets out an annoyed breath. “Yes. Any time Ella is in public from now on, she will need security measures in place beforehand. Especially with something involving school children. The last thing we need is to bring danger to children because she’s there.
Paparazzi at a school or the district, or wherever this pantry is, is not a good idea. ”
“Should we choose a different charity?” Emily muses.
“No,” I say, firmly. “We can add charities to the list in the future if need be, but this work is very important to me. I won’t give it up.”
Asher looks at me, studying me, but doesn’t say anything.
“Okay, then we’ll discuss it all over lunch.”
“How far away is Marco’s?” Asher asks.
“A few blocks. Why?”
“They’ll need to be phoned ahead. Ella will have to enter through a back door, and your party will need to sit back away from the windows, preferably in a private room.”
“Marco’s isn’t that kind of a restaurant,” Emily says. “It’s one open room, and you order at the counter.”
“Then you can’t go to Marco’s. If you go out, it must be to a restaurant with private dining areas.”
Everyone is silent for a moment.
“It will be fine,” I try to assure Asher.
He glares at me. “After the paparazzi frenzy of this morning, something makes me highly doubt that.”
“Those types of places are way too expensive. No one can afford to drop that kind of money on a work lunch,” I say.
“Then take my card and pay the bill. But you’re not eating outside this building unless the restaurant can provide privacy for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. He slips a black card out of it and holds it out for me.
I want to hide under a rock as I reach out and take it from him in front of everyone. I also want to argue with him, but with the conversation we just had before this meeting, I don’t want to push my luck.
“Fine. We’ll find a place with private dining.”
The whole team silently watches our back and forth with rabid interest. It’s obvious to everyone that the dynamic between Asher and me has changed significantly in the last day.
He’s no longer just the big, demanding, detached boss.
The possessive, protective boyfriend side of him is showing, and I can tell it’s disconcerting to everyone.
Asher smirks and walks in my direction on his way out of the conference room.
“Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. He gives me a small peck on the cheek, and it takes all of my mental strength not to jump in shock.
He hasn’t kissed me in any way yet, and the first time he does, it’s in front of the team—all casual.
Like he kisses me goodbye on the cheek as a rule.
“I’m working late, but I’ll see you at home tonight,” he says, as he walks toward the door. He gives me one last smirk before he’s out of the conference room.
Yet again, everyone’s eyes are on me. Wide and shocked.
Home, Asher said. Not my home, or my penthouse. Home. Essentially telling my coworkers I live there with him, which they didn’t know until now. I can only imagine what they’re thinking.
Damn Asher Langford and his possessive, territorial ways.