Chapter 11
In the worst moments of my life, when I feel down and exhausted and frustrated, the simple sound of my sister’s laugh breaks through the rainy clouds like a bright ray of sunshine.
While we play in the gigantic tub, large enough to fit both of us easily, I forget Peter’s visit and his words and just focus on my favorite person in the world, and making sure that her bright, beautiful laughter never seizes.
After we freshen up, June flops onto the large king–sized bed that takes up the middle of the room. The room itself is three times the size of our bedroom back at home, decorated tastefully, if a little impersonally. Other than the large bed, there are two couches, two desks by the sides of the bed, a vanity that’s every teenage girl’s dream, and a large walk–in closet. The art adorning the walls is luxurious and should be in a gallery somewhere, not hidden away in a bedroom.
Almost immediately, June falls asleep, snuggling into the lush duvet on the bed and cuddling Bun Bun. She gets exhausted easily, and although the day is far from over, it has been really eventful, so I don’t begrudge her well–earned nap.
While she naps, I quietly unpack our small suitcases into the large closet, noting how small and meager our belongings look amidst such opulence.
As I unpack, I can’t stop my mind from wandering back to Peter’s earlier visit–especially his vague remarks at the end.
If he’s anything like he was in high school, then he won’t be content with just waiting for drama. No, Peter Ashford is more likely to start the drama, uncaring of who gets hurt in the process.
And I know that at the root of the matter, his problem isn’t with me. It’s with his brother–and whatever political struggle lies between siblings from wealthy families.
But Nathan is older than Peter, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Marisol and Samuel favor him more since Peter seems more of a troublemaker than anything else. The youngest Ashford probably thinks the best way to get to his brother is through me.
I don’t like what that could possibly spell for me. Nathan obviously doesn’t hold me in any regard, so whatever antics Peter has planned will not have their desired effect, and I’ll end up being the only one affected.
The quiet moment to myself is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. With a sigh, I stop halfway through hanging June’s clothes to head to the door.
I open it, and you would think I just ran a marathon with the way my heart rate increases alarmingly.
“Nathan.” My voice sounds like I haven’t used it in years.
Nathan Ashford stands at the other side of the door, his usual politely distant expression on his face.
“Hello,” he greets with such politeness, I want to scream.
“Um, hi,” I say, unsure how to act.
He glances over my shoulder into the room. “May we come in?”
Behind him is a man I don’t recognize and when my gaze darts to him, Nathan says, “This is Isaac, my assistant.”
What kind of twenty–one–year–old needs an assistant?
“Oh, right,” I say, stepping aside for both men to enter my room.
“Hi, Isaac,” I greet with a polite smile and an outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m April.”
“Oh.” Isaac looks thrown off guard and glances at Nathan in surprise before reaching out to shake my hand. “Hello. You’re the first contestant to actually acknowledge me.”
I’m a little confused by his reaction. Was I not supposed to greet him?
Nathan clears his throat, and my attention turns back to him. I realize that he’s the second Ashford heir in my room in less than two hours.
1/2
12:39 P
Chapter 11
A glance at June tells me she’s still sleeping soundly, oblivious to our…guests.
“Um, is there anything I can help you with?” I find it easier–and much less daunting–to look at Isaac instead of Nathan.
“Just a routine visit,” Nathan replies as Isaac pulls out an iPad. “Inform Isaac of whatever specifics you might require during your stay here.” He glances briefly at my sleeping sister. “You and your sister,” he adds.
“Oh, um, thanks,” I say, willing my nerves to calm and my voice to stop shaking. The room suddenly feels small and to be honest, Isaac could as well be a lamp for how aware I am of his presence, compared to Nathan’s.
Isaac taps on his iPad and looks at me expectantly. “Well, um-”
“What are you doing?”
I turn to Nathan. “What?” I glance back at Isaac, confused. “I’m about to tell him my-”
“Not that,” Nathan says, glaring pointedly at the hanger in my hand. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen on him since we met again. His hard gaze slides over to the open closet before resting back on me.
“Are you unpacking?”
“Um, yes?” I say, unsure as to why it seems like such a problem.
Nathan reaches out and takes the hanger from my hand. Our skin brushes ever so slightly, and a shiver runs down my spine.
“Why are you unpacking yourself?” he demands. “Weren’t you assigned maids?”
I blink, feeling like I just got caught doing a bad thing.
“Um, yes. But it’s just unpacking, it’s not a big deal.”
Nathan huffs. “Your maids were assigned to do everything for you; you shouldn’t be unpacking yourself.” He turns to Isaac. “Go get her maids.”
My eyes widen. “Wha–no. I’m sure they’re busy.”
“Go check,” Nathan repeats to Isaac, and the assistant leaves before I can further protest.
The thought of Jessica and Lucy getting in trouble because of my individualism sends me into a panic. They’re already not thrilled about being assigned to me, and this can only make their sentiments worse.
“Please,” I say to Nathan, wringing my hands. “It’s my fault, they shouldn’t get into trouble. I’m the one who didn’t ask for assistance, I thought it’d be fine and-”
“Hey, hey.” Every nerve in my body stands taut, and my breath stills when Nathan grabs both my shoulders in an attempt to calm me.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, his eyes watching me, his earlier displeasure giving way to concern,
“1” No coherent thought forms in my head, the force of his attention rendering me mute and immobile.
Nathan Ashford is holding me. And he’s looking at me–really looking, not skimming over me like he’s been doing since we met again.
It’s not good for my poor heart.
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