One Year with the Billionaire.

Ashton's POV With crystal chandeliers, champagne flutes clinking, and everyone smiling, the charity dinner was a glittering cage. I detested these occasions. Had always had. However, Olivia was by my side, wearing her green gown that caught the light and made her skin shimmer, so tonight seemed different. Something sharp twisted in my chest when she laughed at one of Derek's stupid jokes, throwing back her head and exposing her throat for a heartbeat. When did her chuckle begin to pierce my armor? My jaw tightened. This remained a contract. An exchange. Emotions were a liability. I had to keep that in mind. Then, like smoke from a fire I had long since put out, Victoria emerged from the crowd. The red dress, which she had always weaponized so skillfully, clung to every curve. "Ashton, sweetheart." Her voice sounded like honey over glass. Her lips touched my cheek as she leaned in, lingering just long enough to make my skin crawl. I was struck by the same jasmine scent that I had spent a lot of money trying to forget. With her gaze slipping to Olivia, she whispered, "Congratulations again." "And this must be your fiancée." Olivia had a steel-smile. "Victoria." I've heard a lot about you. "I hope it's all good." Victoria looked at Olivia in a dissatisfied yet amused manner, much like someone evaluating a fake purse. "We ought to eat lunch sometime. Ex to the present. I could offer some survival advice on how to deal with him. Olivia's fingers pressed into my tuxedo sleeve as her fingers clenched around my forearm. "Thank you, I think I'm doing great." Victoria's laugh was brittle and brilliant. "You are, of course, my dear." Pretending to coordinate photographers, Natalie hovered ten feet distant with her tablet in hand. However, her gaze continued to flicker, first to Olivia, then to Victoria, and finally to me. Throughout the week, she had been posing strange questions. When was the wedding date decided upon? Did Olivia already have a prenup agreement? I dismissed it as the overzealous actions of an assistant. It felt darker now. Next, James showed up with a whisky in his hand and pulled me away with that familiar grasp that implied compliance was anticipated. His voice remained low, reserved for me alone. "I take it that this is only temporary? A show for the board? Victoria has returned to her hometown. She is aware of our world. The game. Get married to someone who won't make the name look bad. Olivia stood stiff up next to me. She had heard every word. Her cheeks lost color, but she remained unflinching. She just took her hand from my arm and drifted, as if in need of fresh air, toward the balcony doors. I didn't excuse myself from my father; I just followed. The night air was cool, crisp, and real. Leaning against the stone railing, Olivia gazed down at the city lights that stretched out like diamonds. Her knuckles were white against the rail, and her shoulders were tight. "Your father is correct," she whispered. "I don't belong there." "You do." The words came out more roughly than I had intended. I moved in closer till I could feel the heat radiating from her. "He is incorrect. In that whole room, you are the only genuine thing. She turned. She had too much brightness in her eyes. "Actually this began because you settled my debts, Ashton. On paper, I am here. That's all. "No longer." After hesitating, I raised my hand and cupped her face. Under my palm, her skin felt like warm silk. "Not for me." Her breath caught. For a moment, I feared that she would retreat behind her fierce independence, which she carried like armor. Rather, she got up on her tiptoes to meet me halfway. The kiss began gently. Then it caught fire. I grabbed her waist and pulled her close to me. My heart raced in my ears as she tasted like champagne, vanilla, and something more exotic. As if I were oxygen and she was drowning, her fingers curled into my lapels and drew me in. I tilted her head, intensifying the kiss until all I could hear was the tiny moan she made in the back of her throat and the slide of her tongue. Inside, applause broke out, signaling the start of the auction. I was unconcerned. She didn't either. Only when oxygen became essential did we separate. Her cheeks were heated and her lips were puffy. With a gravel voice, I urged, "Come back in with me." With hazy eyes, she nodded. I saw the artwork she had loved earlier inside. It was a little canvas depicting a gloomy New York street with warm lights shining in the windows. I made a strong bid. Her eyes widened as the hammer dropped. "You didn't have to, Ashton-" "I wanted to." Easy. It's true. Derek saw us close to the bar and smiled as if he had just won a lottery with himself. "Blackwell, look at you. Smiling. I'm betting that I'll leave the office before midnight tomorrow. What have you done to my best friend, and who the heck are you? I whispered, "Shut up," but my mouth's corner still lifted. Olivia laid her head on my shoulder during the limo trip home. Neon streaks blurred past the city. She said, "Tonight felt... different." "It was." I kissed her temple. No photographers. Not a performance. Only the soft beat of her breathing against my jacket. She took off her shoes at the penthouse and made her way directly to the kitchen-the stress reaction, which I was beginning to long for. I rolled up my sleeves and shrugged out of my jacket as I followed. "Teach me." Startled, she laughed. "You? Make cookies at one in the morning? "Why not?" We worked side by side. I cracked eggs while she measured flour. The tip of her nose was dusted with flour. I extended my hand and used my thumb to brush it away. She froze. Our gazes met. The air became more dense. I gave her another kiss, this time slowly and deliberately. With her hands moving up my chest, she let out a moan into my mouth. The heat erupted quickly and intensely. I stepped between her thighs and hoisted her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around my waist. Cookies are forgotten. Skin, breath, and the way she spoke my name like a secret became the only things in the universe. On the island, my phone buzzed insistently. I ignored it. It buzzed once more after that. Cursing beneath my breath, I broke the kiss. An email that is anonymous. The subject line is empty. Attachments include heaps of past-due medical bills, pictures of Olivia's former apartment block and her mother's name written in bold black pen. "She doesn't belong," the message body read. Leave before it's too late. My veins were filled with ice. With my heart pounding against my chest, I quickly erased it. There was an observer. Excavating. Victoria? Natalie? Is Trevor Vaughn looking for signs of weakness? Olivia saw the change. "What's not right?" "Nothing." I made myself smile again. "Just work crap." She looked at my face, but she didn't press. In deep stillness, we finished the cookies. Crumbs stuck to her lower lip when she bit on one. I used my thumb to wipe them away once more, more slowly this time. I acknowledged to myself that I was falling as I watched her eyes briefly flutter shut. Difficult. Carelessly. And before it could establish itself, someone wanted to tear it away. Olivia was still asleep next to me the following morning, her hair all over the pillow, when my phone lit up with a fresh text from an unknown number. "Tick tock. The truth will shortly be revealed. I gazed at the screen till it became hazy. Who in the world was doing this? How much did they already know? Olivia was calm, trustworthy, and mine in a way I never would have imagined wanting somebody to be. I gripped the phone more tightly. They were going to discover one thing, regardless of the nature of the game: I defend what is mine. Even if it means losing everything.