I try again.
“Better,” Waters says. “But try to aim for the center of the target.”
I try again and again, determined that what happened with Kyle will never happen again. Asher is right about one thing, if I do stay with him in the long term, my life will never be simple. There will always be potential threats. He’s too wealthy, too powerful, and too well-known to have a normal life, and if I’m going to be part of that life, I want to have more control. Yes, I’ll always have security officers, but being able to handle myself is something I’ve realized is non-negotiable.
I get marginally better as the training session progresses, and finally, when sweat is pouring down me in rivulets and my arms feel like they’re going to fall off, Waters allows me to stop.
But my relief is only temporary, because the minute I pick up my phone, I see a text from Emily.
Heads up, a bad headline just hit the press. It’s all over the internet. Don’t you worry about a thing, though. We’ll get it handled.
I hadmy news notifications turned off since I was training, but now I click on the link to the article Emily sent me.
Asher Langford Cheating Scandal
A photobeneath the headline shows Katrina and Asher at a restaurant. She’s leaning toward him with a sultry, besotted look on her face, and there’s a second photo of the two of them standing and Katrina is kissing his cheek. I knew she surprised him at the restaurant, but I didn’t know they were this cozy when it happened.
My gut sinks. I know they have a history together, but I also know Asher hates the Antonovs. The way he described Katrina made me think he didn’t like or respect her, but the photos look like he feels quite the opposite. In fact, they look pretty damn incriminating.
A nasty voice in the back of my mind reminds me that you can hate someone and still fuck them.
But Asher would never do that.
Right?
Insecurities and doubts flood me. I’ve always been a confident person, but I’m certainly not bullet proof. I was cheated on by a past boyfriend. And then there’s the whole Kyle debacle. Asher is literally one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet. He can have any woman he wants, whenever he wants—and he’s used to that. He’s used to sleeping with models, actresses, and any other beautiful woman who catches his eye. He doesn’t even have to work for it, they literally throw themselves at him.
I read through the article, my stomach twisting into tighter and tighter knots as I do. The article talks about my meteoric rise to fame but insists that I lack substance to back it. I’m painted as the little PR employee who ensnared Asher, while Katrina is hailed for being an oil heiress well known in New York high society. It also depicts Katrina as Asher’s long-lost love, as “the one who got away.”
I know it’s not true. I know that—I keep telling myself that—but it has a hard time registering. Maybe because of the rollercoaster Asher and I have been on for the last few weeks.
I click out of the article and let out a long breath.This is part of being with Asher,I remind myself. Tabloid stories follow him wherever he goes, and the writers of those stories don’t give a shit about him or anyone in his life. If I stay with him, I will always have comparisons lobbed at me. I’ll be compared to his mom because of her fame, and to any women previously linked to him. I’ll always be in the line of fire of having other women compared to me. That’s just the way it is. The world just loves to pit women against each other, and I will forever have to deal with it.
I can’t let this derail me.
I remind myself of that again and again until I think I believe it.
Two hours later, I’m going stir crazy while texing back and forth with Emily and Matthew as we come up with a plan to combat the article. I’m reading through the article for the third time when an ad for a baking blog pops up on my phone. I click on it. That same nasty voice in the back of my head tells me I must be on the verge of a mental breakdown because I’ve never had any interest in cooking or baking, but I ignore it. With the Kyle drama, the Langford drama, and now the press drama swirling around me, I’m about one second away from screaming into a pillow, so baking sounds like the perfect distraction. The recipe is for some sort of fancy chocolate chip cookies, so I don’t think it can be that hard. Busying myself with baking cookies has to be better than contemplating cutting bangs, right?
I prop my phone on the counter and dig through the massive kitchen and pantry, grabbing the supplies listed. I read through the list twice and think I have it all. I follow the instructions on the blog between answering texts and emails from the team, and it does wonders in distracting me each time I wrap up one of those texts or emails.
I finish with the dough, and then it takes me a solid fiveminutes to figure out how to work the fancy industrial-type oven, but I eventually manage to get cookie dough onto a sheet pan and get that pan in the oven. The venture into baking has served as a solid ninety minutes of distraction, so I count it as a win.
My phone rings just as I close the oven door.
“Hi,” I say to Asher as I pick up.
“Hi, baby. Emily just sent me the article. Are you okay?”
I sigh. “I’m fine. It’s just a very . . .convincingarticle.”
“It’s all bullshit, I swear to you. If Katrina had been a man, I probably would have punched her right there in the restaurant with how angry I was. But the way the picture was taken, the angle of the photo doesn’t show the rage that I know was present on my face.”
I think back over the pictures, noting that they were taken from Asher’s profile, so it was hard to see the expression on his face.
“She did this on purpose,” he growls. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d planted someone to take the pictures and sell them. At the time I thought she was just playing coy with her advances, trying to soften the blow of the threats she was making so that I wouldn’t go ballistic. Now, I realize it was a set up. But I promise you, nothing happened. She surprised me with that kiss, and I pulled away immediately. I don’t want that woman anywhere in my vicinity, let alone her lips on my skin. Just thinking about it is making my balls curl up inside me.”
I can’t help the soft laugh that escapes me. “You promise?”
