Chapter 83

Chapter 83:

“I admit nothing. When I choose to come back has absolutely nothing to do with you. Same goes for whether you hit Eliza Black’s deadline—none of it’s my problem, so stop projecting p>

Violet let out a derisive hum, clearly not buying a word I said.

“Fine,” she said, looking all pleased with herself. “Even if you agreed to come back, it’s too late. I’ve already set things up with Eliza. She’s going to blow up at the film festival in a few days, and once she posts about me on social media, I’ll be a star designer. You won’t even be good enough to carry my bags, let alone keep up with me p>

I walked back to my desk, letting her ramble on while I ignored her. Violet had no clue.

She was about to find out the hard way that with all her rush and last-minute changes to the designs, there was no way she was going to hit the mark. I wouldn’t be surprised if poor Eliza Black ended up looking like a fool at the film festival.

After that little verbal cage match, Violet actually chilled out.

She was too busy fantasizing about her big break as a ‘world-famous jewelry designer’ to bother picking fights with me.

A few days passed without her dragging me into another playground-level shouting match, and that suited me just fine.

Not that I had time for her nonsense anyway—I had bigger things on my plate.

The main event I’d been ‘rehearsing’ for was finally looming.

The night before Edouard Laurent’s 80th birthday, Ashton called me into the living room after dinner.

“We’ve both been busy,” he said, sitting ramrod straight, looking all businesslike. “We’ve slacked off on our practice. Tomorrow’s the party, so we’re doing a quick run-through tonight p>

“Okay,” I said, without hesitation.

We’d barely seen each other in the past few days, what with me being up to my eyeballs in jewelry work for Octavia Grey.

𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽: ⳑ𝖺𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝘀．𝖼𝗈𝗺

It had been kind of a relief, but now… I was nervous.

Tomorrow, I’d be in front of the whole Laurent family with him.

I couldn’t afford to mess up, not with everything on the line.

I stepped forward and—without even thinking—lowered myself onto his lap.

The move was so smooth, I surprised myself.

My thighs locked around his as if by muscle memory, and the jolt that shot up my spine was instant.

No way to pretend I didn’t feel it.

Ashton’s hands found my waist like magnets, his palms hot through the fabric, his fingers resting just on the edge of familiarity.

God, I’d been trying so hard not to think about him since that kiss in the car, but it was impossible now.

The angle of our bodies, the tension pulsing between us—it was the backseat all over again, minus the leather upholstery and the eavesdropping driver.

His eyes pinned me.

Blue.

I’d always known that.

But now they looked like Kashmir sapphires—deep, vivid, seductive.

A stone that could mesmerize you into reaching out… and slice you open if you weren’t careful.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure another ‘rehearsal’ was a smart idea.

I felt like I was toeing the edge of something dangerous.

One wrong breath and I’d tumble—straight into territory I couldn’t joke my way out of.

“See? Not bad, right?” I forced a grin, coward’s instinct kicking in. “Still got the muscle memory. Tomorrow, no one will suspect a thing p>

I tried to ease off his lap.

“I don’t think we need another rehearsal. I’m kind of exhausted. Let’s skip practice tonight. I promise I won’t embarrass you tomorrow p>

I’d handled enough black-tie dinners and brutal design competitions to hold my own.

Rich snobs, harsh judges, backhanded compliments—I’d seen it all.

And yeah, not to be vain or anything, but I’ve got a face that doesn’t hurt either.

I was just about to push myself off him when his hand slid around the back of my neck, fingers pressing lightly, holding me in place.

“I’m a firm believer in being prepared,” he said.

Before I could come up with something clever, his grip tightened, and I pitched forward, right into him—chest to chest, thigh to thigh, heat igniting where our skin met.

Then his mouth was on mine, soft but unyielding, and the contact wiped out every half-formed thought in my brain.

“Mmm…” I tried to speak, but his kiss swallowed the words.

It was like the world stopped.

The only thing I could feel, taste, was him.

His tongue slid against mine, slow at first, then deeper, tasting every inch of me like he was starving.

His lips were warm, firm, and everything else faded into the background.

There was just the heat, the friction of our bodies pressed together.

I was sinking into him, my fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him closer, like I wanted to lose myself in him.

The kiss made my head spin, faster and faster, and then—suddenly—he moved, and I was on my back, with him above me.

The soft give of the sofa beneath me was the only thing keeping me anchored. His chest pressed against mine, tight enough that I couldn’t breathe easily, but it was exactly what I wanted.

The weight of him felt safe, like nothing could touch me as long as he was there.

And, damn it, when his lips left mine, my whole body felt like it had melted into the sofa, as if I’d been soaked in warm honey.

I was breathless, dizzy, and very much wanted to pull him back to me.

Ashton’s eyes locked onto mine, dark with something I couldn’t quite name. His gaze dropped from my lips, lingering on the curve of my neck, and I saw him tense, his jaw clenched.

I didn’t need to be a genius to know he was struggling to keep his composure.

He was trying so hard not to lose control.

His hand brushed the bare skin of my lower back as I shifted slightly, and holy hell, if his fingers didn’t send a shockwave through me.

No fabric, just his skin on mine, and suddenly all I could think about was how much I wanted more.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he might lose control, might take it all the way.