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“No,” he replies, smirking.
I catch his reflection in the window. The prince is in love.
“Wow, you must really like her.”
He glances at me. “I do. She’s good for me. Stubborn. Fierce. Kind of like you.”
“Why are you playing games?” I ask, confused.
“I could ask you the same about Asher,” he says nonchalantly.
“That’s not fair. I’m trying to save my business.”
“Then why not focus on Josh?” he challenges. “He’s the one responsible for Asher, isn’t he? You should be playing theentireboard, Billie, not justonepiece.”
“Weston said the same.”
I’ve been avoiding Josh like the plague after he hurt me.
Louis smirks. “If you win over Asher, you take down Josh. If you win over Josh, you can stop Asher. You could destroy them both in the end.”
“The last thing I need is the media painting me as some slut who saved her business by sleeping with powerful men.”
He reaches for my hand. “All that matters is your happiness. Everything else is bullshit. Remember that, Ice Queen. Erase Josh socially by being with someone else. Maybe Asher could help with that,” he suggests with a nod. “Itcouldwork.”
“I don’t think it can,” I tell him. “He can’t be around me because of the noncompete.”
“He can’t work with you, but there’s nothing that says he can’tdateyou,” Louis counters. “Now, that’s a scandal and a love story, wrapped into one. Find a way to monetize it, and you’ll ruin Lustre. How badly do you want to save Bellamore?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to save my company without apology,” I admit as the streetlights flash across his gorgeous face. “What are you suggesting?”
“If Asher falls in love with you, Bellamore is safe.”
“Yeah, but if I fall in love with him, Bellamore is in danger,” I tell him. “I don’t play one-sided games with love. It always backfires.”
“Do you think you’re capable of loving Asher?”
I contemplate his question. “I don’t want to find out.”
The SUV pulls up in front of my building, and I take a deep breath as my door swings open. Cameras flash, and Louis escorts me to the main entrance. The doorman glances my way before quickly turning his back.
I lean in, brushing my lips softly against Louis’s. The paparazzi snap countless photos, so we give them the show they crave. I do my best to make it look genuine.
“Thanks for tonight. I hope we achieved what you needed,” I whisper, covering my mouth so no one can read my lips.
“Oh, we did—and so much more. Good night.”
“Night,” I reply, stepping inside, fully aware that those photos will be plastered across British tabloids before dawn breaks in New York.
12
ASHER
“Happy Monday,” Lauren says unenthusiastically as she carries an elongated box into my office and sets it on my desk.
Papers whoosh around me, and a few flutter to the floor.
“What’s this?”