“I promise. I don’t want anyone else, Ella. No woman has ever made me feel a fraction of what I feel for you. This is the Antonovs playing games. I know they have someone on my board in their pockets, and so I can only assume they know, or at least suspect, that our relationship is a PR stunt, and they’re playing into that. They know that the more upset the boardgets, the more likely I am to lose those shares, and if that happens, they win everything they want.”
Some of the knots in my stomach loosen. “I believe you. It’s just hard to see. Especially when my shiny newness will fade at any moment, and the articles about me will get worse and worse. The world wants you with another big name. Not a no-name employee.”
“Well, the world can go fuck itself, because I don’t want a big name. I happen to be stupidly obsessed with my amazing, gorgeous, smart as hell, perfect, no-name employee.”
“I’m pretty obsessed with my big-name billionaire, so I guess we’re the same in that regard.”
Now Asher laughs.
“Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”
“I’m fine, mostly. On the plus side of things, since I’m forced to stay in the apartment, I decided to try baking cookies. I think it’s going okay.”
Pierre enters the kitchen just then carrying two bags of groceries, and freezes. His eyes widen in horror as they scan over the kitchen. I look at it, blushing as I take in the carnage. The island is covered in flour, dirty utensils, baking sheets, bowls, and ingredients. A few chunks of cookie dough that I flung hard to get off my fingers are splattered on the cabinets and floor.
Pierre lets out a slew of words in French that I’m pretty sure are curses.
“Sorry for the mess!” I spurt. “I decided to try baking.”
“It sounds like Pierre is enjoying sharing the kitchen with you,” Asher says with a chuckle, and I remember that I’m on the phone with him.
I hold the phone close and speak in a low tone. “Yeah, he just got here to prep lunch, and I’m pretty sure he had a mini aneurysm when he saw the state of the kitchen.”
“He probably did.”
“I think he’s cursing in French under his breath.”
“He probably is.”
“He won’t actually kill me, right?”
“Probably not.”
I try to start cleaning my mess, but Pierre makes a shooing motion with his hands, and since his left eye is twitching, I back away. I take a seat on a bar stool and focus back on my conversation with Asher.
“So, what are we going to do about this, Mr. Langford?”
“Do about what, Ms. Hale?”
“About the Antonovs and their stupid oil company. I can’t live like Rapunzel, locked in a tower for the rest of my days. I mean, your penthouse is one hell of a tower, but still.”
“I’m going to start with destroying the Antonovs.”
“Sounds good. How can I help?”
He chuckles. “You want to help me take down my enemies?”
“Of course I do. What is that thing where people start to take on the traits and hobbies of their significant other? I have that. Your revenge hobby is now my revenge hobby. Plus, they’re threatening me, so it’s only fair that I threaten them back.”
“You’re something else, Ms. Hale.”
“I aim for excellence, Mr. Langford. But what I need is a direction to start with. What’s your angle with the Antonovs? Whatever it is, I want in.”
“I love that you want to help, but you know my answer.”
“Asher . . .”
He sighs. “No, baby. There’s too much risk and too many unknowns. The best way to help me is to keep doing what you’re doing.”
