Page 33

CHAPTER 33

MARCUS

Ashton opens the door to the hallway and peeks his head out.

"This way," he whispers. Instead of leading me back to the stairs we came up on, he enters another hallway and descends a narrow set of stairs.

I lose track of the number of dark hallways or staircases we run up and down, but eventually we make it into the kitchen, which looks like a fully operational restaurant kitchen. There are so many servers and staff members running back and forth, I think for a moment that we might be able to slip by unnoticed. Then again, I forget that we're dressed in fancy tuxedos, and Ashton's handsome ass is a full foot taller than the tallest person in the room besides me. Oh, and he's not wearing a shirt, which honestly kind of works for him. He could probably pull it off as an edgy fashion choice if he takes the bow tie off.

"Mr. James, what are you doing back here?" A dour-looking man dressed like he's in the secret service asks when we're shooed out into the main hallway.

"Definitely not checking off a bucket list of rooms I want to have sex in before I never return to this monstrosity of a so-called home," Ashton says under his breath, loudly and clearly enough for the man to hear him. "Come on, babe . There's a formal living room I'd really like to blow you in."

The man touches his earpiece, and Ashton smirks. "Tell my father I said nice party, will ya, Artie?"

"You did that on purpose," I say, laughing as Ashton leads me to a back door.

"That bootlicking asshole is predictable. If he's going to rat me out, the least he can do is give us an alibi for being in my dad's office."

After all the adrenaline and exercise we've done in the last hour, the chilly night air is welcome. I follow Ashton across a huge stone patio, and then down a short set of stairs.

"Where are we going?" I whisper, even though no one is out here. It feels like the right thing to do while we're sneaking around outside.

"The valet parking lot is just on the other side of those trees," he whispers back. "It's our best chance of getting out of here unseen before security comes running."

But we're too late. Footsteps thud across the patio we were just on, and voices are coming from around the side building.

"Shit." Ashton stops and looks around real quick, then pulls me into a small alcove under the patio. "Do me a favor?"

"What?"

"I'm going to need you to give me a really big, obvious hickey."

I snort, but he pulls me close. "You're serious?"

"That's the alibi, baby. Now come over here and act like you want to fuck me again."

"I always want to fuck you," I murmur against his neck. "It's kind of becoming a distraction."

Ashton moans as I clamp down on his neck, pulling the flesh between my teeth and biting down before sucking hard. I lick the spot free of my extra saliva and then lick up his jaw, pulling his head down so I can reach his mouth. I bite and pull at his lips, ravaging them until we're found and pulled apart by Artie and his friends. When a flashlight is pointed at Ashton, he looks well and thoroughly debauched. Between his hair coming loose during our office fuck, sweating from running, and the damage I just did to his mouth and neck, there's no doubt what we've been up to.

"Come on, Artie," Ashton groans. "Can't you let me have any fun?"

"Your father wants to speak with you."

"I'm sure he does." The smirk on Ashton's face is positively malicious. He grabs my hand, pumping his eyebrows playfully.

"Just you," Artie says. "Your friend stays here."

I look at the four men that move to stand behind me, as if they mean to block me from leaving. Immediately, all my senses go on high alert. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe its knowing what Ashton's father is capable of, or maybe these guys are truly as threatening as it seems right now. Whatever the case may be, it's clear that Ashton likes the idea even less than I do.

"Over my goddamn dead body. Marcus comes with me, or we leave together. Either way, you're not separating us. I'm not leaving my boyfriend with your goons."

There's that word again. Boyfriend.

I know that's not the most important thing happening right now, but my brain latches onto it. My hand tightens around Ashton's.

Artie, looking like he sucked a lime, touches his ear again. He looks off toward the grounds, maybe listening to something, then lifts his head and gives the goon squad a curt nod. Two of them make their way back to the door we snuck out of, Artie close behind them. Marcus and I fall into step behind the three of them, while the last two guards walk a few paces behind us.

The path to the office is a lot quicker and more direct when we take an elevator to the hallway the office is on. It doesn't give me much time to calm my nerves and prepare to be interrogated, but it also doesn't give me time to overthink. Ashton's dad is a shitty guy, for sure, but it's not like he's going to murder us. Is he? Ashton said he's a pacifist at heart. So maybe he just wants to scold us for being inappropriate and kick us out. If we're lucky.

Mr. James is standing in the middle of his office with his arms crossed when we arrive. A woman in an actual maid's uniform, with the white apron and everything, is spraying and wiping down the desk. My ears burn hot. I at least have enough humility to feel bad she has to clean that. Because of course the Ashton James II wouldn't have to clean up his own messes, much less someone else's.

"Ashton, you'll be paying Lucia a very large bonus for her work here today, out of your own pocket. Am I understood?"

Ashton dips his head in a nod, looking appropriately chastised. "I am sorry, Ms. Lucia. I wasn't thinking."

I'm begrudgingly impressed by Mr. James' thoughtfulness for his staff. It doesn't match up to the callousness with which he spoke about displacing people from their homes just to build condos that no one from our side of town could possibly afford.

The maid, Ms. Lucia, purses her lips. I think I see the beginnings of a smile, but she manages to hold it back. Maybe it was my imagination. I'm sure my subconscious is conjuring it, so I don't feel as guilty for leaving such a mess for an innocent bystander to clean.

"Lucia, leave us, please. Arthur, if you wouldn't mind?"

The secret service wannabe that Ashton keeps calling Artie escorts the maid from the office, then stands in the doorway expectantly.

"Mr. Vell, if you wouldn't mind waiting just outside the doors, I'd like to speak with my son privately."

"No." Ashton's voice cuts through the room like a knife. "He'll stay with me or we'll both be leaving."

The stare down between the James men only makes the tension in the room more palpable. Mr. James breaks eye contact first, looking annoyed, or bored, as he aims a curt nod at Artie, who leaves, pulling the doors closed behind him.

Mr. James ignores me entirely, like I'm not in the room. Which is honestly fine by me.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're pulling here?"

"I don't know what you mean," Ashton replies cooly.

"Making a public spectacle of yourself, showing up here with… him. Gallivanting around the house being vulgar and making a fool of yourself. Breaking into my office and violating my personal space in such a way that I could press charges for indecency and harassment. That such outrageous, repulsive behavior was conducted by my own son is unacceptable."

"Let's call it an exercise in empathy. Because now you know a fraction of how I feel."

"Excuse you?"

"I think I always knew you were a crook, but tonight I actually witnessed first-hand how corrupt you are. Under the table donations for favorable legislation so you can develop protected environmental spaces? Displacing families from their homes so you can gentrify more of Pinecrest? Or what about using your money and influence to fulfill some kind of sick personal vendetta?"

"I don't know what you're?—”

"Don't even try it, Dad. I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I know who Roman Vell was to you, I know what you did to him, and I know how you're trying to pull the same bullshit with his son. That is what’s truly outrageous and repulsive. I'm ashamed to be related to you, to share the same name."

Mr. James barely blinks. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I though?" Ashton crosses his arms. "Tell me, are you so determined to make me marry because that's what Mimi made you do?"

"Ashton—” Mr. James says in a warning tone.

"When she woke up, she thought I was you. Kept talking about catching you with him."

"Mimi is not in her right mind?—”

"Is that why you looked so worried when she said Ken was going to make everything better?"

For the first time, I see emotion in Mr. James' eyes. Fear. Whether it's fear that he's been caught, or fear for his mother, I don't know, but the change in him is astounding. He reminds me of a cornered animal. How dangerous will he be when he lashes out?

"I don't know what she was talking about," he says quietly, and this time I almost believe him. I think he knows more than he's letting on, but maybe he wishes he didn't. "I had my suspicions she might have been involved with… something I probably don't want to know. Don't need to know. And neither do you."

"That's where you're wrong. I need to make sense of everything that has happened, I need to make sense of why you hated Roman Vell enough to ruin his life, and I need to make sense of what any of it has to do with me and my relationship with Marcus."

"You can't be with that boy."

"Why? Because it doesn't fit the perfect image you have of what our family is supposed to look like? Because you won't have more pedigree bred heirs to pass down your corruption to?"

"Because he'll use you! He'll use you and then he'll leave you. Like father, like son."

The shouted words reverberate in my bones and settle in my chest. I don't realize that I'm backing up until my thighs hit a chair. I sink down slowly, wanting to remain invisible in this room. I think they've both forgotten I'm here, and I'm okay with that. Ashton's body is blocking my view of Mr. James' face, but that just means he likely can't see me, either.

"Maybe Marcus is like his father, but that’s a good thing. He’s hardworking, and kind, truly cares about people. Everything I know about the man, outside the venom you've spit about him for as far back as I can remember, is that he was someone respectable. Someone who people loved and were loved by him?—”

"Roman Vell was a grifter who lied and manipulated a teenaged boy into thinking he was something he's not. My father was ready to disinherit me because Roman told him?—”

"—that you were in love with him, and he didn't feel the same." I say, just loud enough for my voice to be heard. "Dad said he made some assumptions and the two of you got into a bad fight. He regretted it."

"I'm sure he did," Mr. James' says with a sarcastic bite in his tone. "Back then, he tried to play the 'I'm just trying to help you' bullshit. I didn't need help."

"You just needed him to love you back, and he didn't," I say gently.

"He played me."

"I believe you believe that."

Ashton gives me an odd look, his brow furrowing in concentration. He reaches out his hand, and I stand, taking it and allowing him to pull me into his side. I want to be close to him, but I also want to gauge Mr. James' reaction to the two of us.

Mostly he just stares, stony-faced and eyes distant, like he's not actually seeing us.

"Whatever you believe, Dad, we have the evidence to prove that Mimi and Kenneth Richards falsified your father's will and erased any trace of there being one for his wife. We also have proof of at least some of your political bribery and insider trading, enough to spark a full investigation, I'm sure."

Ashton James II lifts his chin defiantly, straightening himself to his full height. Unfortunately for him, he has nothing on his son's stature and strength. Mr. James started this exchange with the ball in his court, or so he thought. But Ash created his own rules, showed how fucking smart and resilient and brave he is, simply by standing up to his father.

“What is it you want?"