Ashton Scott

I nod at her phone. “What were you reading?”

She places it down on the counter and claps her hands together. “Just Facebook. Now, let’s get these drinks into you.”

Something about her tone or her expression or her body language feels off. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s something weird there. Before I have a chance to ask her, she shoves two glasses at me. One contains a cloudy looking clear liquid and the other contains what I think must be tomato juice.

“Drink up,” she says.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I ask, “Why do you seem so odd all of a sudden? It’s like you’re trying to push me into something.” I pause for a beat. “Oh God, what’s in these drinks? You’ve smashed up some of your strange health pills and sprinkled them in here, haven’t you?” Sienna is all about vitamins and supplements, and is always trying to force them on me, but that’s something I’m not really into. Especially when I don’t know half the ingredients in the pills.

Her lips flatten and she hits me with an exasperated glare. “There’re no pills in either of those. They’re just straight coconut water and tomato juice.”

“Really? You told me your cure was secret, and now you expect me to believe there’s no voodoo in here.”

She arches a brow. “Voodoo? Seriously? You think I’m so healthy because of voodoo?”

“No, I think you’re healthy because you eat well and exercise. I don’t think any of your voodoo pills contribute to your health.”

Waving a hand at me, she mutters, “Just drink the bloody drinks, Lorelei. And stop banging on about voodoo.”

Although my head is aching and I feel awful, I grin.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?”

“Because I love you and the way you care for me.” I grin a little harder. “And I find it amusing when you go on about your pills. You do this thing where—”

A loud bang on the door to her apartment sounds, interrupting our conversation. I stare after her when she leaves to go check what’s going on. Partly because I’m moving slowly today and am trying to get the energy to drink these drinks, and partly because I’m lost in the thought that everyone should have a friend like Sienna.

I drain both the glasses, pulling a face as I do so. I don’t love either coconut water or tomato juice, but I feel bad enough to give them both a go. After I rinse the glasses, I place them next to the sink to be washed properly, and my gaze lands on Sienna’s phone. She’s left it on, and it looks like she was reading a news article. Reaching for it, I see a photo of Ashton at the top of the article. Right under the news heading, “The Cashton Empire Set To Explode.”

Cashton?

I begin reading, trying to figure out what they mean by that. It doesn’t take me long to figure it out. Or for my heart to almost stop beating. Not when I see the next photo. A photo of Ashton and Cassia kissing.

“Shit, I didn’t want you to see that,” Sienna says, coming back into the kitchen. “It’s gossip and is probably bullshit.”

I struggle to drag my attention from the article. “They’re kissing, Sienna.” I finally look up at her. “And it’s not the first time they’ve kissed recently. It doesn’t look like gossip to me.”

I desperately want to believe her, though. I want to believe that somehow, someone Photoshopped this image to make it look like he kiss

ed her. What I don’t want is to have to rethink my decision to continue this relationship with Ashton. It’s all beginning to feel like whiplash. And on top of a hangover, it’s even harder to think the situation through rationally.

“You need to call him and ask him about it. Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

Confusion is starting to take over, and my thoughts are running in a million different directions.

He doesn’t want her.

He wouldn’t kiss her.

This all has to be her doing.

She’s manipulating him.

I can trust him.

He’s made it clear he wants me, not her.

But then, the one thought that pretty much wipes out all the other ones, surfaces.