Chapter 46 Ashton’s POV: Celebration, Low–key Style
Ashton watched Mira snap photos of the marriage certificate.
When she mentioned Yvaine, he had the dumbest thought: I want show someone too.
That’s how he ended up calling Cassian Langford,
‘Drinks tonight. The Rookery. Nine.‘
At 9.02 p.m., Cassian was there in their usual private room, already half a bottle deep and bitching
+25 BONUS
‘You ghost me yesterday, drag me out tonight, and now we’re just sitting? Mate, what’s the deal? And where’s the rest of the crew?
Ashton barely opened his mouth when Cassian suggested, ‘Should call in a couple waiters to play Omaha or something? This is tragic.‘
‘Go ahead.‘
Two waiters came in and shuffled cards.
Ashton sat to Cassian’s left, casually placing his right hand on the table.
Right in Cassian’s line of sight.
The ring wasn’t just visible–it practically screamed.
Cassian squinted. ‘What the hell’s that on your hand?‘
‘A ring. Just got it today. Haven’t resized it yet.‘
Cassian tossed back his drink. ‘Who gave you a ring?‘
‘My wife.‘
‘Your–wait–your what?‘
Cassian shot upright like the chair was electrocuted.
‘Did you hit your head? Are you high? Who the fuck is your wife?‘
Ashton’s lips twitched.
He pulled the marriage certificate–now laminated–from his inner jacket pocket and slid it across the table like it was an ace of
spades.
Cassian stared for a full thirty seconds.
Then he picked it up gingerly with two fingers like it might explode.
‘Mirabelle Vance?‘ he read, syllable by syllable.
His eyes glazed over.
One hand went to his temple like he was about to faint.
‘Have I forgotten how to read? Is this real?‘
Ashton snatched the certificate back before the grease from Cassian’s fingers got any ideas.
He tucked it away with care.
‘You read it right.‘
1/3
Chapter 46 Astenire
+25 BONUS
Cassian let out a howl that shook the chandelier ‘You are married
Ashton took a lazy sip of his whisky. ‘Why? Jealous?
Jealous? Mate, I’m fraumatised!‘
Cassian dropped into his chair like his legs had given out, arms sprawled on either side as he stared at Ashton like he’d sprouted an allen head.
Have you lost your bloody mind? Everyone and their therapist knows Mirabelle Vance is tangled up with Rhys Granger. And you married her? I thought you were gonna die single. You didn’t even breathe a word to me before signing the damn papers?*
Ashton flicked him a look like he was slow–witted. ‘She and Rhys broke up ages ago. Called off the engagement. Why can’t! marry her? What, you want her to wear widow’s weeds for life?’
‘That’s not what I–Cassian grabbed the glass of water like it was vodka and chugged half of it. ‘But how the hell did this even happen? Don’t tell me she conned you.‘
‘She didn’t con me,‘ Ashton said coolly. ‘I conned her.‘
Cassian froze. ‘Come again? You conned her? How?‘
‘I told her my family’s been harassing me to get married.‘
Cassian flung his arms up like a referee calling foul. ‘Who in the Laurent dynasty would dare harass you? You’re just out here lying to innocent women for sport now?‘
Ashton caressed the ring on his finger. ‘I also said my grandfather’s dying. Guilt–tripped her for sympathy points.‘
Cassian’s jaw dropped. ‘Your grandfather’s got chronic gout, not terminal cancer. When was he dying?‘
‘He dies when I need him to.‘
Cassian stared at him in silence.
Honestly, what the fuck.
‘You’re a psychopath. A literal villain. This is fraud. You should be in prison.‘
Ashton let out a dismissive snort through his nose.
He didn’t even try to deny it.
Cassian suddenly sprang forward. ‘Hold up. This doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been hung up on someone for years and suddenly–poof–over it in a week back home?‘
Ashton’s mouth curved. ‘I didn’t get over her.‘
‘Wait… what?‘ Cassian’s brows nearly hit his hairline.
Ashton leaned back. ‘It’s her. Mirabelle.‘
Cassian stared, fully blanking for a second. ‘Mirabelle? I thought the girl you were obsessed with was in Italy. You told me so yourself.1
‘She’s not from Italy. She went to Italy. That’s where I met her.‘
Cassian flung an arm out and waved away the two waiters. ‘Out. Door. Now.‘
They scrambled.
He slammed the door shut.
‘Poker’s off?‘ Ashton deadpanned.
2/3
Chapter 46 Ashton’s POV Gelebration, Low–key Style
+25 BONUS
‘Screw poker. Start talking.‘
Ashton chuckled under his breath. ‘It was Florence. Seven years ago. I met her at an international jewellery design competition.‘
Cassian blinked. ‘Seven years–wait, that means she was what, sixteen, seventeen? Jesus. You were dude, you were an adult. That’s-‘
Ashton smacked his arm.
Not hard. Just enough to shut him up.
‘Ow! Assault!‘
‘She was still in school. Finalist in the under–twenty category. I was there as a sponsor. We spoke for maybe five seconds. That was it.‘
Cassian grabbed the bottle, poured one for Ashton, then himself. So what, it was love at first sight?
Ashton stared at the glass. Then shook his head. ‘No. Not love. Not then. She was–almost grown, but still figuring herself out. I remembered her, yeah. But it didn’t hit me then, Not really.‘
‘So when did it?‘
‘Second time. Eindhoven.‘
Cassian clicked his fingers. ‘I remember. You’d already built a damn empire in Europe. Moved your headquarters to Eindhoven, right?‘ He nudged Ashton with a smirk. ‘And I remember the queue of men and women lining up to get in your bed. Some even tried flirting with me, thinking I was the side door to the main event.‘
Ashton scoffed.
Yeah, Cassian wasn’t wrong.
Back then, Ashton had been in his mid–twenties, drowning in attention from people who saw his money and assumed he was
easy prey.
He was young. Alone in Europe. Surrounded by staff, assistants, hangers–on–but no family, no safety net.
Even with all his paranoia, there’d been moments when his guard slipped.
One night, it did.
It was a party.
Fancy venue, expensive wine, fake smiles.
He’d been careful–he was always careful–but someone still managed to drug his drink.
He’d fought through it, barely stayed on his feet, stumbled out of the hotel like a drunk boxer in the twelfth round.
And ran straight into her.
