Chapter 26 Ella
ELLA
My room is still dark when my alarm goes off, but I’m already awake and have been for an hour.
I stayed up late last night researching photos from movie premiers, particularly with action films, and did a deep dive on the Last Blood franchise.
It’s supposed to be at least three films, which explains why the producer is nervous if the second film isn’t getting the attention it needs.
If this film bombs, there may not be a third.
I pick up my phone and call Matthew. He answers on the fourth ring in a groggy voice. “Hello, Ella darling.”
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, I’m awake, but I’m having a hard time getting moving this morning.”
“Well, I feel like an ass calling so early, but I need to get a jump on the fittings. I have something very specific in mind for the look for the premier tomorrow night. And I figured the more time we had the better.”
Matthew yawns dramatically. “Okay, babe. What did you have in mind?”
An hour later, as I’m finishing getting ready for work, I’m cautiously optimistic about my plan for tomorrow night. It’s a little bold, but I think it can work. I just have to pull it off.
No pressure.
I reapply some extra concealer under my eyes, then set it with powder.
My four hours of sleep last night clearly weren’t enough, and I want my appearance to be on point today.
I am not in the mood for another day like yesterday.
If I have to walk through the PR and marketing floor with all eyes on me, and if I have to listen to the comments and questions and plans of my PR team, I at least want to feel better about it by looking my best. I don’t usually think of myself as vain, but I can’t deny how much better I feel when I’m put together.
I’m just putting my heels on when there’s a knock at my bedroom door. It’s barely seven.
“Come in?” I say it like a question.
Asher opens the door and stands in the doorway like he did last night, but instead of looking stupidly perfect in pajamas, now he now looks stupidly perfect in a suit. It’s a good thing I’m pissed at him or I might drool on myself.
“You’re not going to skip out on breakfast again today,” he says, smug.
“I was going to go in early. I have a movie premier appearance to plan, after all.”
He makes a show of checking his watch. “Good thing I had the chef come early this morning. Breakfast is ready, and Andrew won’t be driving us until after we’ve both eaten, per my instructions.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Asher cuts me off.
“I won’t have you skipping meals to avoid me.
I know I fucked up, and I want to make it up to you.
But I draw the line at you flitting in and out of the penthouse like a ghost. You live here, and you should feel comfortable eating here.
Plus, you don’t want to offend Pierre. He’s worked extra hard on this morning’s breakfast.”
Without another word, he turns to leave.
Damn him.
Breakfast is disgustingly perfect and delicious, which makes me even more annoyed.
It consists of fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, sweet pastries, and made-from-scratch croissants that almost make me orgasm.
Plus, there’s freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, and Pierre is currently preparing our gourmet coffees to go.
To think I almost ran out the door without eating.
“I’d like to give you something before we go,” Asher says as he finishes his breakfast.
“Oh?”
“Well, it seems as though my flowers didn’t register last night,” he says, nodding to the arrangement on the kitchen side counter. “So I have another idea.”
“Were those for me?”
“Yes, but you hurried to your room before I could give them to you.”
I bite back a retort. “They’re lovely, thank you,” I say instead.
Remaining professional is taking all of my patience, but I refuse to be anything else.
I’m here for a job, and I will perform that job.
I’ll just scream at Asher to go fuck himself in my mind, that at least makes me feel better, and I can do it while remaining detached and professional on the outside. Win, win.
Asher stands just after I take my last bite and empty my glass of juice. He walks toward his room, and I follow him, reluctantly. I don’t want to have anything to do with his room anymore.
Luckily, we pass through the room and into the closet.
And holy hell, his closet is massive. Probably twice as big as Zahra’s entire apartment.
He stops at an island counter with drawers in the middle of the closet and presses a button I can’t see on the underside of the countertop.
A rack of his shoes to our left swings open slowly.
Behind the rack of shoes is a massive, black pewter safe door.
Asher steps to it and spins the lock combination.
It clicks a second later, and the heavy door swings open a crack.
Asher grabs a box off a shelf and brings it over to the island counter.
He opens the lid, and I can’t help but peek inside.
Several different sizes and shapes of jewelry boxes sit inside, and Asher takes them out, sorting them until he finds the box he wants.
It’s a deep green box with worn velvet and chipped brass finishings.
He sets the other jewelry boxes back into the bigger box and returns it all to the safe.
“This,” he says, returning to the counter and opening the green box, “is an old ring of mine. All Langfords get a ring with their initials when they turn twelve.”
He turns the box to me. Inside is a gold ring with a circular, flat surface, and the letters, “AHL” engraved into it.
“It’s beautiful. Why don’t you wear it anymore?”
“It’s too small. I wore it until it wouldn’t even fit my pinky finger.”
“Why didn’t you have it sized?”
He shrugs. “By then I was trying to make my own way, and I didn’t want the constant reminder of my name and my heritage. I wanted to prove myself to be more than another Langford. But I want you to wear it now, for the duration of our arrangement. If you’ll agree to it.”
I hesitate. “Why?”
“Consider it an olive branch. A promise of better behavior. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out that how I acted Saturday night was not okay.
I’ve had some sense knocked into me by Matthew, as you know.
And last night my mother reminded me lovingly, but forcefully, that I might be a brilliant businessman, but I’m sometimes an idiot. ”
My lips twitch, somewhere between shock and laughter.
“But more than Matthew and my mother,” he says, running his hand over his jaw, “I was speechless after our conversation in your room last night. After you told me how you felt, I realized that you were more than right. I asked this of you. I asked you to be vulnerable with me and to trust me, and I didn’t hold that trust with the care it deserved. ”
He lifts the ring from its cushion. “I want you to trust me again. And I want you to know that you have a partner in this.”
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I’m so stunned that I can’t find the words to respond. How dare he be so sweet and perfect out of nowhere! It throws me for a loop.
“Asher, it’s . . .”
He reaches for my right hand and slips the ring onto my middle finger. It’s a little big, but still fits. Then he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckle just above the ring. My head swims.
“It’s too much,” I whisper.
He chuckles against the skin of my hand, which sends shivers down my spine and goosebumps across my skin.
“It’s perfect, just like you.”
My heart pounds. I take some deep breaths.
“I don’t know,” I say, unsure. “I’m still so hurt and humiliated.
And it’s not so much the bad press and all the shit people are saying about me online.
I’m more humiliated by the fact that we were sort of intimate, and the next day you tossed me aside like I was nothing.
I don’t put myself in the position to be used like that, ever.
For obvious, good reasons. I went against my better judgment, and I did with you, and it didn’t turn out well for me. ”
Asher lets out a heavy breath. “You’re right.
But you’re also wrong. I didn’t toss you aside because I got what I wanted and discarded you.
If anything, I only got a fraction of what I wanted, and you left me practically starving for more.
I was awful the next day because it all hit too close to home.
Like you said Friday, I had already jumped into the deep end, and then I got scared and decided I didn’t want to swim.
And now I’ve hurt you, and myself, and us, and I am so fucking sorry. ”
Asher gently grabs my hand and runs his thumb along the ring on my finger.
“Please know that I would never treat you like some girl that doesn’t matter to me.
It’s not better, per se, but I treated you like shit because I was scared.
I realized how quickly everything was moving, and how the world would be watching.
The attention and press I get sometimes ruins the things I care about—and now you’re a part of that.
And it makes you a target, and that terrifies me. ”
“Asher,” I whisper, in shock. “Thank you for being honest.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m so overwhelmed.
I take a breath, unsure. But this gesture is very sweet, and seems completely sincere.
And vulnerable. And I realize that I have to try, at least once more.
We’re both in the deep end, and the only way through is to swim.
There is no backing out now, not without Asher losing everything.
Which I shouldn’t care about, but for some reason, I do.
As much as I want to stay neutral, I can’t deny that I care for Asher.
And I don’t want him to fail at this. It was a rocky start, but maybe we can start over, and really get somewhere this time.
But I won’t get too close again, and I won’t put up with behavior like that again. If he treats me like shit, I’ll be contacting my lawyer to walk me through the contingencies and safety nets in place that give me a way out.
I tell him as much.
“I understand, Ella. I do. And you’d be completely within your rights to do so.
You’d get no fight or complaints from me.
” He touches the ring on my finger again.
“I want you to wear this,” he says, softly.
“And when you look at it, I want you to be assured that you’re not alone. That we’re partners in this.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I’m honored to wear it.”
His eyes flash with something I can’t quite place my finger on. Surprise?
“Let’s go,” he says, stepping back and smirking his usual, smug smile. “You have loads of work to get done, I hear. We don’t want you to be late.” He winks and leads the way out of the closet.
One part of my mind wants to give him a smart-ass retort, that I do in fact have a lot of work to do, but the other part of my mind is still spinning from receiving this incredibly personal, beautiful gift.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Asher, it’s that he doesn’t do anything by halves.
He’s either out or he’s all in. Which makes me wonder how our arrangement will make it through the next weeks and months since we’re trying to exist in this strange in-between of a real-but-not-real relationship.
It already feels like a dangerous precipice because I have the feeling that Asher Langford could either make me the happiest woman in the world if this was real or he could shatter me into nothing when it’s all over.
I just hope that whatever happens, my heart and mind survive it.