I PACED BACK AND FORTH in the tiny office. The clock ticked, marking my steps, and I felt like tearing it off the wall and breaking it in half. Where the fuck was she? It suddenly occurred to me that she might have left. Why hadn’t I considered that before?
I was about to step outside, to see if she was still in the shop, when the door opened, and my blood pressure soared. At this rate, I was going to have to see a fucking doctor.
She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her grey eyes were narrowed. The blue-grey scarf she wore was arranged so that most of her neck was hidden from casual view. Her shirt said, Go Frappe Yourself. I wondered if she’d worn it knowing that I’d be here. But from her reaction when I walked in to the shop, I didn’t think so.
Just a convenient accident. Why was I taking it so personally?
“Nice shirt,” I said, then winced. That wasn’t how I’d wanted to start this conversation. Of course, I’d already screwed the pooch when I threatened her with publicity.
“Fuck you, Corey Knox,” she snapped. “What do you want? And make it quick; my date is picking me up at nine.”
I blinked. Jealousy surged in my chest, and my heart nearly stopped beating.
“A date?”
“Yes.” One eyebrow lifted. “Does that bother you?”
Of course it fucking bothered me.
“Not at all,” I lied. “Why should it?”
Ashlyn snorted. “Well, quite.” She glared at me. “So. What do you want?”
She had a date. A fucking date. Did she have a boyfriend? I hadn’t even considered that possibility. But why not? She was beautiful, intelligent, clever. What guy wouldn’t snap at the chance?
“Do you?” I asked.
She frowned. “Do I what?”
I growled. “Have a boyfriend,” I said, a little more sharply than I meant to. It didn’t seem to bother her. She smiled, but it was pure poison.
“What business is it of yours?”
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper in check. My hands curled into fists. The press was out there, and I needed to keep my cool.
“I think it’s every bit my business,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Since my business was all up in your business.”
She laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
“What’s so fucking funny?” I demanded. Keep it together, Knox.
Her laughter stopped abruptly, and she snarled at me.
“You think you own me? Why, because you invited me to dinner? Danced with me?”
I clenched my teeth together, my jaw working.
Her voice dropped to a murmur. “You think you own me because we fucked?”
“No,” I said darkly. My hand shot out and pulled scarf from her neck before she could stop me. My mark was there, on her throat. My cock raged and throbbed. “Because of that.”
Mine. She was mine, god damn it.
She snatched at the scarf, wrapping it around her fingers, trying to take it from me. I held on. It was like some perverse tug-of-war.
“You don’t own me, Mr Knox,” she snarled.
I yanked on the scarf, jerking her forward into my arms, holding her tightly. My voice was low, dangerous.
“Don’t fucking call me that. You know my name.” I twisted my hand in her hair pulled her head back, kissing her roughly, my anger lending me a strength I hadn’t felt in years. She fit perfectly against me, like she had the other night in bed.
I wanted her. I wanted to take her right there.
For a fleeting moment, she relaxed against me. Then she started struggling. Through the jealous haze that clouded my brain, I heard her whimper softly. I broke the kiss, put my mouth on her neck, and grazed her skin with my teeth. I pressed my lips to the mark I’d left on her throat. That thought again, rising up like a beast from a swamp.
Mine.
“You don’t get to call me ‘Mr Knox’ any more, Ashlyn,” I whispered. She was trembling in my arms. “Not after the other night. Not after you screamed my name when you came on my cock.”
I heard the tears in her voice before I saw them in her eyes.
“Please, Corey...”
I jerked my head up, staring down at her. What the fuck was I doing? I blinked, feeling like a first class shitheel.
“Ashlyn, I –”
“Please, just leave,” she whispered. I relaxed my hold on her, and she pushed me away, swiping at her face. “Leave and don’t look back. This isn’t a life I can share with you.”
I’d never felt more helpless. Not even when mom died.
“Why?”
Ashlyn shook her head, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.
“God damn it, Ashlyn.” Anger was rising in me again. “You can’t just kick me out of your life.”
Her voice was a little stronger, now. “Of course I can.” She lifted her chin. “We’re from different worlds, Corey.” I stared at her as she touched my cheek with her fingertips. “I can’t be a part of yours any more than you can step into mine. You’re an actor.” She smiled faintly. “You’re the opposite of people.”
I growled softly and took her hand in mine, wrapping my fingers around hers. “A fucking movie quote, angel?”
She shook her head. “Art imitates life, Corey. And that is your life.” Her tears were slowing. “You need an audience.” She pulled her hand from mine and gestured towards the door. “It’s out there. Waiting for you. And it’s not something we could ever have in common.”
I looked down at her scarf, twisting it in my hands. She was right. I loved my work. I loved the limelight, the publicity. The fame. The adulation. It filled me; made me complete.
“So,” she whispered, taking a step closer. She lifted my head in her hands, looked at me with those sad, grey eyes. “Walk through that door, Corey Anthony Knox. Walk through that door and out of my life.” She stroked her thumb over my lips. “Please.”
I shook my head and brushed a hand against her cheek. “This isn’t over, Ashlyn.”
She sniffled. “Of course it’s over,” she said. No more tears now, but the sadness and hurt in her eyes was killing me. “And it was wonderful while it lasted.” She kissed me lightly, and I slid my arms around her, holding her. She leaned away and shook her head. “Go back to your life, Corey,” she murmured. “Go back to your fame and your limelight, and enjoy it. Take the good with the bad.” She gave me a gentle hug, then pushed herself out of my arms and held out her hand.
I stared at it for a minute, then draped the scarf over her palm. I looked down at her, searching her pretty, open face. Her perfect mouth. Her beautiful eyes. My mark on her throat.
My angel, with kisses from heaven.
I stepped past her and put my hand on the door.
“Corey?”
I looked back at her, hope welling up in me.
She gave me a wry smile. “I still haven’t seen any of your films,” she said. There was a hint of mischief in her eyes.
I felt my own smile starting.
“Knock ’em dead, Foxy.”
I laughed softly and shook my head. She knew. I don’t know how, but she knew. She knew I had to go out there and smile for the cameras. She was protecting me.
The least I could do was reciprocate.
I opened the door and stepped into the shop, smiling warmly at the gaggle of reporters who were still gathered around the tables.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and reporters,” I said, and got a laugh from the assembled group. I jerked my head towards the doors. “I’d like to invite you back to the Ritz for a drink. I’m sure you have a lot of questions that you’d like answered.” Cameras flashed. This was my world, and Ashlyn couldn’t be a part of it.
Why?
I needed to know why. I needed my ace in the hole.
As I left the shop, I texted Mel.
We need to talk.