Page 31 of Twisted Truth

I take it, and he helps me up off the bed. I stand almost chest to chest with him, and in the low light, I look up and see a faint scar at the corner of his brow that I’ve never noticed before. But then, I’ve never been as close to him as I have been tonight. I want to reach up and stroke my finger over the scar and ask him how he got it, but before I lose my mind and follow through with that thought, I clench my hands to my side.

What am I thinking?I can’t just touch Asher Langford’s face.

I shiver, suddenly noticing the chill from climbing out of his warm bed, and Asher grabs a throw blanket off the bench at the end of his bed and wraps it around me. His fingers brush against my shoulders, and a whole new wave of shivers race across my skin.It’s just the cold,I tell myself. I’m not shivering because his fingers grazed the skin of my shoulders.It’s just the cold.

When I turn and see a hungry look on Asher’s face, my breath catches in my chest.

Yeah, it’s just the cold.

I follow him out into the living room where Matthew and Emily are seated. Emily has a notebook propped on her lap and she taps her pen against it as she bites down on her lower lip. A rush of guilt rushes through me. Emily is rarely anxious and waiting to dive into this small, out-of-nowhere meeting is obviously stressing her out.

“Sorry for making everyone wait,” I say as soon as I reach them.

“You’re fine, darling,” Matthew says. “We all needed tosober up a bit, anyway. There’s fresh coffee, cream, and sugar in the kitchen. Help yourself, and then we’ll begin.

As we all sit, sipping our coffees, the air is thick with unease. The anticipation of whatever this is is killing me. Asher, however, looks very comfortable now. Determined, even. Arrogant. More like how he is in the office.

“Emily and Ella, I appreciate both of you being willing to meet here so abruptly,” Asher says, setting down his mug. “After significant consideration, I have come to the conclusion that none of the candidates proposed by the board or the women I met tonight quite fit the bill for what I need for this project to work. Matthew has proposed something to me that he and I agree is the best solution. It is, however, a bit of an unorthodox situation. We believe the best candidate for this project is Ella.”

Wait, what?

Asher looks directly at me. No shame. No embarrassment.

I swear my heart stops in my chest.

It definitely stutters.

“Me, Ella?”

Asher’s mouth twitches, but he still stares at me with an intensity that makes my stomach stumble over itself. “You, Ella.”

Emily’s brows are in her hairline, and her eyes dart back and forth between Asher and me.

“You are exactly what we’re looking for,” Asher goes on. “You’re professional, you’re loyal to the company and to this project, you’re not a celebrity or influencer or socialite interested in climbing the social ladder, and if I may say so without being wholly inappropriate since you are my employee, you are very beautiful. You tick all of our necessary boxes.”

“How . . . how would that work with Ella being a member of the team?” Emily asks.

“I think she could stay on the team. It may be helpful, actually. That way she is part of the decision making process of what will be expected at certain events, and the requirements won’t be sprung on her like they would be with someone who was not in the room when those decisions were made.”

“It is a wholly plausible scenario that they met at work and their relationship grew,” Matthew says. “So, breaking the story to the public should be straightforward. Although, we will need a strong strategy to make sure the relationship is not seen as an imbalance of power between employer and employee. That will take some tinkering, but I think our team can come up with something. And we’ll need a strong angle so that Ella doesn’t look like she’s sleeping with the boss to get ahead, so staying in her same position is vital.”

My head spins.

Me? The candidate? The fake girlfriend?

“Of course, Ella must be willing and agree to it,” Asher says. He looks at me again, this time deathly serious. “I will not force you to do this. And I don’t want to pressure you. If you say no, it’s no. No questions, no threats to your job or position. This is a request, not a demand.”

“I . . .”

“Don’t answer yet,” Asher says. “I want you to think about it tonight. I don’t want your answer until tomorrow.” He looks at Emily. “We will need to delay our meeting tomorrow. I don’t want to meet with the team until this decision is finalized. Matthew moved one of my afternoon meetings, so we will meet at three.”

Emily scribbles notes, nodding furiously. Then she eyes me, assessing. “I agree with you. It took a minute for the shock to wear off, but now that I think about it, I see what you’re seeing. This could work.”

“I want to reiterate what you’re signing up for if you sayyes,” Asher says to me. “The paparazzi will become a part of your life. Your past will be sifted through. Your family members will be contacted, possibly harassed. Your face will be splashed across magazines, television, social media. Your motives will be questioned. Your looks will be picked apart. My life in the spotlight is sometimes a very difficult one. And as this is an extremely disruptive thing to ask of you, I am willing to compensate, as has been discussed in all of our meetings. But I would like to discuss that part with you in private.”

He stands, and I follow suit, but as I follow him back to his bedroom, adrenaline from the shock of his request pulses through me, and stars wink in the corner of my vision.

“Have a seat,” he says, pointing to a sitting area near the window with two plush chairs and a small table between them.