One Night Only, page 16
Only this time, the pain slashed deeper, the wound gaping open. He’d thought she was different. He’d thought he’d learned his lesson and done everything in his power to protect himself.
Well, there was one more thing he could do. This time, he wasn’t going down without a fight. He was done. Done with humiliation, done with being the last to know. Ash stumbled from the treadmill and eyed his phone where he’d switched it to silent. His fingers curled into his palm.
He wouldn’t check.
How close he’d come to...feeling emotions that left him wanting to build barricades to protect himself! He needed fortifications more than ever, to protect himself from the feelings he’d realised last night were as foreign as the adopted country he’d chosen. Because whatever he’d felt for his ex, it paled in comparison to the unstoppable wave building in him now. He should never have let things go so far—caring for her hadn’t been part of the plan.
A yell from his living room sucked him to his senses.
Ben stood framed in the doorway, his face slightly haggard with questions burning in his eyes. Ash had known this reckoning was coming, and yet he still recoiled. Telling your friend you’d slept with his sister was one thing. Telling him you’d allowed yourself to be duped, humiliated by not just one woman, but two...
Ash stalked to the kitchen with Ben trailing. He held out his arm, offering Ben a seat, and retrieved two bottles of beer from the fridge. ‘What did she tell you?’
Is she okay?
No.
There’d be no asking about Essie, thinking about Essie and certainly no going to Essie.
‘That it happened. That it was over.’ Ben collapsed onto a bar stool, and accepted the beer Ash handed him. ‘What did you do to her?’
Ash deserved the accusation in his friend’s stare. He should never have slept with her after the first time. He had no defence. Never a good position for an attorney. But she wasn’t blameless here. ‘I met her the day before you left for New York. I didn’t know who she was the first time.’
Fuck, that sounded all wrong.
Ben stared for long challenging seconds. ‘I know Maggie hurt you and that you only do casual.’ Ben gripped the bottle, his knuckles white. ‘So why would you lead Essie on like that?’
Fuck, he didn’t want to do this now, but there was no escape. ‘We were just fooling around. She said she wanted the same thing. I should have told you.’
Ben paled even more, his lips thin and white. ‘And now? You’re done and she clearly wanted more because she’s broken-hearted.’ Ben speared his fingers through his hair. ‘I offered her the job so I could get to know her, to make amends for the shit our father pulled. She’s sweet and kind and fun. She’s so desperate for approval...’
Ash nodded. It couldn’t have been easy for Ben to find out he had a sister, either. A massive adjustment. ‘I didn’t know about your father, I’m sorry.’
Ben swallowed, his face twisted as he shook his head. ‘Fuck... She’s been treated so fucking shabbily by men, men who are supposed to care about her and love her and protect her, part of her believes she’s unworthy of a decent relationship.’ Ben took a swig of beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Please tell me you didn’t take advantage of that.’
Had he? Had he unknowingly taken her fears and insecurities and used them for his own ends? He’d known Essie had a poor relationship with her and Ben’s father, something Ash could relate to. Did she crave what she’d never had? Did she want it with him?
It didn’t matter. It was too late. Over.
‘If I did it was unintentional.’ Ash ground his teeth together, willing truth into them—he’d told her his position from the start. But as he’d learned more about her, a part of him had known he would hurt her. He just hadn’t guessed she’d hurt him in return.
Ben ignored his plea, as if lost to his own turmoil over his sister. ‘He was never there for her. He kept me and his wife a secret from her until she discovered his lies by accident. Fuck. She deserves better than him.’
Acid flooded the back of Ash’s throat. ‘I agree. But she’s not blameless in this.’ He should leave it alone. Accept all the responsibility. But those fingers of mistrust still burrowed into his brain.
Ben stared. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Did you know about her blog?’ The heat returned, scalding, diminishing.
Ben frowned. ‘Not until today, but what does that have to do with anything?’
The words trapped in his throat, covered in barbed wire. ‘She’s...been writing about us. About me.’
‘So? She mentioned something... What’s the big deal?’
‘Aside from the fact I don’t enjoy reading about my private life, my sex life on the internet...?’
Ben shrugged, eyes darting.
Ash took a seat at the kitchen bench, next to Ben. ‘Did you...catch up on any gossip while you were in New York?’
‘What the...? You know that’s not my style. What does this have to do with Essie?’
Damn, the words stuck deep down in his gullet. ‘Remember when...Maggie...called off the wedding?’
Ben nodded, one hand scraping over his haggard face.
Ash gulped beer, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. ‘Turned out the affair was a cover. Some scapegoat schmuck. She was really fucking Hal.’
Ben sputtered. ‘Bullshit.’
Ash stared straight ahead. He couldn’t witness whatever expression his friend wore for fear the humiliation would burrow into him so deep, he’d need a lobotomy to excise it. ‘It’s true. I didn’t know it at the time, but Hal took great pleasure in informing me in front of a whole office of Jacob Holdings staff.’
Several beats passed. The occasional swallow of beer the only sound. ‘Word spread. Before I knew it, the gossip rags were speculating on the demise of my parents’ marriage, whether my playboy reputation would be damaged or enhanced and how destructive it would be to Jacob Holdings stock.’ He faced his friend. ‘That’s why I came to London. I couldn’t go back to work for Hal. I had paps chasing me down the street and, having created the mess, I had to rush to tell my mother before she heard of it at the gym or the grocery store.’
Ben shook his head, shock rendering him slack-jawed. ‘I didn’t know.’
Ash snorted. ‘You and me both.’
‘Does Essie know?’
Ash nodded.
They sat in silence. Then Ben said, ‘She’s sorry for what she did. Perhaps if you talked to her...’
Ash shook his head. He would. But not tonight.
‘I think she’s in love with you.’
No.
Ash couldn’t deny they’d had chemistry from the start. And yes, she’d slipped under his guard, blindsided him with her honest and refreshing outlook on the world, her ethereal beauty and her bubbly personality. But not love.
Ben glanced at his watch. ‘I have to be at the club.’
Ash jutted his chin in silence. Where did these events leave him and Ben? Would he survive bumping into Essie down the track? She’d always be a part of Ben’s life, quite rightly.
At the door, Ben turned. ‘Ash. I’m sorry, man.’
Ash nodded. ‘Me, too.’
And then he was alone again with only his restlessness for company.
* * *
Essie stacked the last chair into place and stretched out her aching back muscles. The basement club had been booked out for a private function that night—a fashion show and corporate party. The removal crew would arrive first thing to dismantle the temporary runway and extra seating.
The last place she’d wanted to be tonight was here with her happy face plastered on and the requisite nothing-is-too-much-trouble attitude, but she’d promised Ben she’d lock up the club, and in reality she’d rather have been here with the noise and the bodies than home alone with her self-recriminations.
Riding back to London earlier with Ben, she’d found hiding her desolation from her brother impossible. He’d coaxed the whole tale from her, his bunched jaw the only sign of any judgment. To his credit, he’d been supportive and understanding, something she didn’t deserve for her role in hurting Ash, her own guilt a sharp blade slicing deep.
Flicking off the lights, she made her way upstairs, her tired feet encased in lead.
Her stomach clenched at the memory of Ash’s face. She hated what she’d done to him. How much she’d devastated him through her thoughtlessness. She’d convinced herself he couldn’t be identified, so he couldn’t be hurt. But in light of his shocking confession about his father and his ex...
She’d betrayed his trust.
Humiliated him.
All because she’d been overwhelmed by their chemistry, in awe of the amazing sex and flushed with the heady power of holding her own in a relationship for the first time. And then later...
She only had herself to reprimand. If she’d been honest with him from the start, if she’d owned her feelings, said, ‘This is who I am, take it or leave it,’ instead of shoving them back inside for fear of his judgment or disapproval or indifference... He’d been honest with her from day one. He’d never once claimed to want anything beyond sex. She’d just misinterpreted his looks and his touches. She’d seen something, felt something that wasn’t there. At least not for Ash.
She’d known the score going in and learned a long time ago that even when people said one thing, they usually did something else. Something that suited them.
But somewhere along the way, perhaps dazzled by the private jets and Paris and the glamorous clubs, she’d fooled herself into believing, just this once, she could have more. Have the real deal. An equal relationship where she was valued, cherished, respected. For once she’d ignored the loud and clear warning bells and imagined she could have someone for herself, someone who not just barely tolerated her, but actually wanted her in their life. Not an inconvenience, but as necessary as oxygen.
So the last time they’d been together in Oxfordshire had, at least for her, been way more intimate than all the previous occasions combined. She’d convinced herself they could be making love, not just banging each other. That didn’t mean Ash had felt the same. She understood his anger, but could he run away so quickly if he shared one iota of her feelings?
Gnawing at her lip, she swung through the staff-only door. Yet again, she’d learned the hard way that relationships were fine in theory, the black-and-white science irrefutable, but disastrous in reality. She was an expert in one, but definitely a novice at the other. Nothing had changed. Only, this lesson carried a permanency that rolled her stomach and left her empty.
Bereft.
She slammed to a halt, her small gasp catching in her throat.
Ash stood in her office.
He wore running gear, his shirt dark with sweat as if he’d sprinted all the way with his backside on fire.
Perhaps sensing her behind him, he lifted his stare from a white envelope on her otherwise clear desk.
Essie’s knees threatened to give way.
He was here.
To see her?
‘Ash—’
‘I came to deliver this. I...I assumed everyone had gone home.’ He looked away and another part of Essie cracked and crumbled.
‘I’m sorry. Please let me explain.’ The words tumbled out in a rush.
Ash collected the envelope from the desk and Essie spotted her name. He lanced her with a cold stare. ‘Will your apology change the outcome? The facts?’
‘No, but... Please...’
At his silence she ploughed on, certain he’d never forgive her, but desperate to have him understand. ‘I didn’t think I’d see you again after that first night. And then the next day you were my boss.’ She lifted her gaze to his. ‘I’d never had a one-night stand before. I...it made a good cautionary tale. Careful who you sleep with—it might turn out to be your boss.’ Her voice trailed away with the ice of his stare.
She should have told him sooner. She’d been about to the night of the wedding. And then he’d looked at her as if he’d wanted more than sex and she’d succumbed, desperate to know if his feelings in any way matched hers.
‘Yes, I can see that. Very entertaining.’ He tapped the letter against his palm, his face an expressionless mask. His damp T-shirt clung to his ripped chest. If she hadn’t needed every spare lick of saliva to lubricate her tight throat, she’d have drooled down her front.
‘Ash, it wasn’t like that. I never named you or wrote anything identifiable. And I didn’t know about your...past—I would never hurt you like that. Only you know I was writing about us, well...just the incredible sex. I finally saw what all the fuss was about.’
Her excuses sounded all wrong. Her writing was exposition, scientific theory and a dash of poetic licence.
‘I’m sure you didn’t mean to be discovered. But lies grow. They twist and mutate and sprout claws. I could identify myself.’ He thrust the envelope at her. ‘I have a professional reputation. We fucked. That’s it.’
Essie winced as if he’d slapped her.
‘I don’t want my sexual prowess to become a topic of public speculation. I’ll be a laughing stock. I won’t tolerate that again.’
‘Ash. I understand you’re angry with me.’ She was furious with herself.
He pointed at the envelope trembling in her hand. ‘Consider yourself severed. You can kiss your precious blog goodbye. Perhaps you’ll be forced to sell out, practise what you preach, pedal your psychobabble for actual paying customers. You’re about to find out the hard way, you can’t hide behind theory for ever.’
‘You...you’re suing me? But—’
He stalked closer, pinning her with his steely glare.
Breathing became harder. His cold eyes flicked south to her mouth and then back again, the ice thawing. Or perhaps it was just her imagination. Just wishful thinking.
She pressed her back to the door, her palms flat to stop herself reaching for him. If he recoiled from her touch, backed away, she wouldn’t survive.
This time her voice emerged a whisper. ‘I’m sorry. Please let me explain.’
He was so close now his warm breath tickled her lips.
‘My father was never there. Growing up, I would try to remember things I wanted to tell him, little things. I started writing them down until the next time he came home. And then later when I knew the truth, I used my blog to process my feelings. Writing about you was a lapse, a mistake—one I won’t make again.’
If she took a deep breath, her nipples would brush his chest. But she couldn’t even draw in enough air to stop her head spinning.
He’d listened patiently but now he snarled. ‘Well, some of us don’t have that luxury—we have to deal, internalise, without publicly splurging every one of our feelings. Do you think you’re the only person with a shitty father figure?’
‘Of course not. I—’
‘Oh, spare me your pity.’ The pain in his eyes stole the last of her oxygen.
If she hadn’t been leaning against the door, her legs would have given way. How could someone do that to their own son? She’d thought Frank was bad enough. No wonder Ash had fled from his life in search of a fresh start. And all she’d done was confirm his beliefs that he was right not to trust anyone.
‘I understand that. But I was blindsided by our chemistry. I’d never experienced anything like it. For the first time in my life, I had some power in a relationship. It was heady, wonderful, but overwhelming. For the first time, I didn’t feel worthless, and then when people liked what I wrote...I got professional validation, too. I messed up with the blog. I should have told you. I was trying to tell you the night of Harley’s wedding.’
He placed one hand on the door above her shoulder and leaned close. At first she was certain he planned to kiss her, the heat in his eyes, the small catch of his breath, the way the tip of his tongue touched his top lip for a split second.
But then he must have changed his mind. He made eye contact and Essie shivered.
‘I was right not to trust you.’
He wasn’t listening. He’d shut down already. She’d done the damage and missed the opportunity to make it right.
He backed off as suddenly as if they’d been interrupted in an illicit, forbidden kiss. Essie’s bones rattled from the icy chills of his frosty brush-off. That he could deliver such a blow without a flicker of emotion told her he’d be a formidable opponent in the courtroom. Something she hoped she’d never have to witness or experience, despite the legal document clutched in her hand.
‘Ash, I humiliated you in a moment of stupid impulsiveness and I regret it.’
It was the now or never moment. Mustering every shred of her courage, she pressed herself back against the opened door to gain another sliver of space from his derision. ‘But I kept the secret from you because I...I started to realise...I love you, and I didn’t want anything to ruin that.’
Silence.
His cold stare remained unchanged.
Essie hovered for long, torturous, doubt-filled seconds. When he didn’t move, didn’t speak, she stumbled away, blindly barging through the exit and out into the night.
Much later, alone in a deserted Tube carriage, she looked down at the envelope still crumpled in her hand.
A bubble of hysterical laughter burst through her numbness.
How would she ever afford legal representation to fight him?
And why would she bother?
She loved him and she’d hurt him. It was time to face the consequences.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ESSIE’S TWENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY arrived with a predictability that left her gunning for a fight. At first, the card on the mat, addressed with an airmail sticker and recognisable handwriting, sent familiar chills down her bare arms and legs. But reading the dismissive, one-line greeting from her father fired her determination—today was the first day of the rest of her life.
