Page 91 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince

I stared at her. My body grew still as my brain tried to process the words she’d spoken. She looked so broken standing before me. I wanted to hold her close and comfort her, but my fear had me immobile.

Instead, I said nothing.

She worried her lip. “I need you to know I had nothing to do with this.” Tears streamed down her cheeks once again.

I hesitated to get any closer to her, my self-protective instincts kicking in.

“My stepmother has your fall wedding designs,” she blurted out. Her shaky hand covered her mouth.

“What do you mean, she has my designs?”

“I’m so sorry, Dean. She said she was making an announcement in the newspaper tomorrow. There’s nothing I can do to stop her.”

“How did she get the designs?” I roared, making her flinch.

Before Ashlyn had arrived, I’d heard from my father. He was ecstatic the board was ready to approve me. Having our fall designs stolen would, without a doubt, convince the board I was unfit. And when Jules D’Amboise heard what happened, he might decide not to sell to us after all.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, gasping out the words, sobs bursting forth again.

“You were one of the few people who’d seen them,” I reminded her. That night in my office. I’d left her alone while I dealt with the design team. The sketches had been on my desk. The one time I’d forgotten to put them away.

“Dean, it wasn’t me. You have to believe me,” she pleaded.

“Why do I need to believe you?”

“You know me.”

The realization of what transpired hit me without warning. Angry bile stuck in my throat as I put the pieces together. How had I not realized what she’d been doing? “That night in my office. I left for a few minutes, and when I came back, you were by the designs on my desk. You had just slipped something into your pocket.”

Her eyes grew wide. “It’s not what you think.” She shook her head. “Well, it kind of is, but you have it wrong. I took one picture and then realized I couldn’t go through with it. So I deleted it.”

“You were going to steal the designs for your stepmother.” It wasn’t a question. For some twisted reason I needed to hear the words out loud from her.

How could I have been such a fool?

“Yes, she’d asked me too.” She stared at me sadly. “But I didn’t.”

“How could you even agree to do that?”

She shifted further away from me, the gulf between us widening. “She didn’t leave me much of a choice when she threatened to end my business before it even began. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m having a hard time reconciling the kind woman I met at lunch that day with someone who would steal our designs.” Now I was the one shaking. My anger fueled me. “And here I thought you were different from Simone. I should’ve learned my lesson. I never should’ve trusted you.”

“I’mnothinglike her.”

Her indigent response made the anger in me grow. She wasjustlike Simone. “Funny because this seems exactly like something she would’ve done.”

This is why I didn’t do relationships. Eventually, they tore me apart, and someone used me to get ahead.

Ashlyn’s shoulders dropped, and her body curved inward as though she’d been struck. This time, her haunted gaze followed me as I paced the room.

“I wish you’d believe me.” She twisted her hands together. “But I can see you either won’t or can’t. I know Simone used you, but I didn’t. You need to know it’s killing me to have to be the one to tell you. I wanted to warn you before it hit the papers so you could do some damage control.”

I looked at her in disbelief. “Damage control? What the hell do you think I’m going to do about thisnow? We werepretendingto be together so I could repair my image to take over this company. And now you’ve destroyed any chance of that happening.” I didn’t miss her flinch when I used the word pretending to describe our relationship.

“Dean, please. I—”

“Enough,” I bellowed. “I’m done listening to your lies.”