Chapter 24 Ella
ELLA
Ileave work late; it’s almost seven by the time I climb into the car.
It’s been an awful, awful day. First, I had to walk onto the PR floor with every coworker aware of the bad press Asher and I received yesterday and today.
And it only got worse as the day went on once major entertainment shows picked up and reported on the story.
My team may be the only team directly working on Asher’s public image, but the rest of the floor represents different aspects and companies of Langford Holdings in PR and marketing, and they all know what a cluster-fuck of a night Saturday was.
And I got all of their curious glances, judgmental expressions, and loaded body language over it all day.
My team handled the news more tactfully, but still had no shortage of questions.
Questions I had no answers to because I didn’t know myself.
And that didn’t go over well. Through a frustrating, and mostly unproductive day, the only thing we definitively agreed on is that we probably course-corrected too hard with the dress.
It was beautiful, and the open back gave it some sex appeal, but it just wasn’t enough, and it fell flat in the photos.
We can fix the dress problem at the next event, but none of us have any idea on how to fix the fact that Asher wanted nothing to do with me and hardly talked to me the whole night.
Emily again suggested we needed to get to know one another better, but I shut her down hard.
There’s no way I’m doing anything like that again.
The car door opens, and Asher climbs in.
Lovely. I didn’t know he was still here as well.
“How was your day?” he asks, quietly, as Andrew shuts his door.
“Not my best,” I say in a flat voice, looking out the window as Andrew climbs in and starts the car.
“Same. How was the team? Were they . . . upset about the press?”
“They were, yes. We spent the day putting out what fires we could.”
“How did that go?”
I shrug. “It should blow over; these things do. But we’re now scrambling to figure out how to move forward.”
“Ella, please look at me. What do you mean?”
I roll my eyes before turning my head to look at him. “I mean that besides the dress being a bit of a dud, I have no answers for what went wrong on Saturday night, so that leaves us with no answers on how to avoid it again in the future.”
“It won’t happen again.”
I let out a derisive laugh. “I can’t be sure of that.”
“You can. I got an earful about it today from Matthew. I know Saturday was my fault, and I’m sorry.”
I sit in surprised silence for a moment. “Thank you, I appreciate that.” The words sound anything but appreciative, but I’m doing everything I can to stay civil and neutral.
“And it won’t happen again,” he presses.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen Saturday.”
“I . . . was not as prepared for this situation as I should have been, and that affected me much more than I anticipated.”
I nod and look back out the window. I don’t really know what to say.
I’m glad he admitted that he was the problem on Saturday, but it sounds like a lot of that has to do with Matthew giving him an earful and not him acknowledging it on his own.
I’m not in the mood to push back, or pick his words apart, worrying over them.
I’m here to do my job. And that’s it. Plus, I have my money to comfort me.
Four more deposits, and we can end this.
Asher spends the rest of the drive on the phone in a heated conversation with his brother Sterling.
Apparently, they’re having some issues over in London.
But I welcome the distraction since he’s so consumed with the call that I’m able to take my plate from the chef up to my room as soon as we’re home.
It probably seems childish to avoid Asher like I am, and maybe it is, but I feel completely uncomfortable around him now.
Maybe that will change with time, but right now, I’d just really prefer my own space.
Asher said he wanted boundaries in place, and after Saturday night, I couldn’t agree more.
An hour later there’s a knock on my door. I drop the book I’m trying to read.
“Come in.”
Asher opens the door and stands just outside my bedroom, looking annoyingly perfect in his pajamas.
“I was wondering what you wanted to do about Emily’s text,” he says, running his hand across his scruffy jaw.
“Hmm?” I ask, sitting up and reaching my hands over my bedding. I dig my phone out from under a pillow at the bottom of the bed. “My phone is on silent; I didn’t know about a text.”
I look down and read from the group text with Emily, Matthew, Asher, and me.
Matthew: I emailed the team about the changes in the schedule. We really need to make this event work in our favor.
Emily: I’m checking the guest list as we speak, and I’ve got the glam team scheduled.
“I haven’t checked my email. What changes in the schedule?”
“I’m leaving for London late Wednesday night. I need to help Sterling with an acquisition, and I’ll be gone for at least a week. But we also got a last-minute invitation to a movie premiere Wednesday night before my flight.”
“Oh, that sounds fun. What movie?”
“Last Blood Two.”
“Hmm. I never saw Last Blood, but I’ll look it up online. It’s an action movie, right?”
“Yes, a spy thriller type.”
A little thrill goes through me. I’ve never been to a movie premiere before. “Why were we invited? You don’t do any business in film, right?”
“No, but a friend of mine is a producer. He’s a little worried about the film’s reception; the critical reviews have been less than shining so far, so he’s trying to drum up as much publicity as he can.
With the stir you and I have made in the media in the last few days, he’s hoping to snag some of that attention his way. ”
My phone vibrates with another text.
Matthew: I don’t think any of the gowns we’ve selected will work. We’ll need to do an emergency fitting tomorrow.
Emily: Agreed
“I know things are . . . off right now,” Asher says, pulling my attention back to him. He still looks uncomfortable standing in the doorway. “But I know the paps at the premiere are going to probably push for some . . . PDA or something. They’re going to want a show.”
“Then they’re going to be disappointed.”
“We have to counteract the bad press somehow.”
“I’ll figure it out with the team. But for now, I’m not throwing myself at you in public.”
“You wouldn’t be throwing yourself at me like it’s a one-sided thing. We’d both be participating.”
“I’m not doing that.”
He rubs his hand along his jaw, uncomfortable. “Ella, I said I was sorry.”
“And I appreciate your apology. Or rather, I appreciate Matthew’s attempt to force you to apologize, more like.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You told me yourself that you realized you were in the wrong after Matthew gave you an earful. So, excuse me if I’m not impressed by the fact that you couldn’t come to that conclusion yourself.”
“We have to get past this and move on.”
“We do, but I will move at my own pace this time.”
“And what pace will that be?”
“One that I’m comfortable with!” I snap, losing my patience.
“I trusted you, Asher. I let myself be persuaded by you and Matthew and the team into believing this would be safe. And I put myself in a very vulnerable position with you because I thought we had each other’s backs.
I thought that if we were forced into this, that at least we would be partners in it.
Do you think I move in with men I don’t know, as a rule?
Do you think I . . . do what we did Friday night with men I’ve known less than a week?
I don’t! I’ve never been so intimate with a stranger in my life, but I did it because I was told it was safe.
I did it because I was willing to give this situation my best effort, even if it scared the shit out of me!
“And so, I let my guard down. I let myself be charmed into thinking that the snake in the basket was on my side, and I reached into that basket. And what happened? I got bit. And not only that, but I got bit while on display for the whole world to see. And now, I’m being dragged through the media as the plain, boring girl that dared to fly too close to Asher Langford’s sun.
So no, I’m not going to reach back into that basket.
And I’m not going to fly close to your sun.
I’m going to move at my own pace and you’re going to take what I’m willing to give, and you’re not going to ask for more.
You threw away that right Saturday night, and I’m not ready to just hand it back to you. ”
Ignoring his stunned face, I stand from my bed and go into my bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I lock the door, turn on the shower, and strip out of my lounge clothes. I don’t hear anything from him as I get in the shower, and I can only pray he’ll be gone from my room by the time I’m out.