“Meredith had an abortion when she was sixteen. It was kept hush-hush. We started seeing each other when I was eighteen. During that time, Mother discovered Meredith had sex with Vincent Morelli.”
“No,” she gasps. “A Morelli? That bitch!”
“You’re Team Constantine now, huh?”
“Through and through. Which Morelli is Vincent?”
“Leo’s uncle.”
“Ew? She fucked an old man when she had eighteen-year-old you?”
“Allegedly.”
“So your dad made you break up with her, and your mom drove a spike through your bleeding heart?”
“It’s the Constantine way,” I say with a dark chuckle.
“It’s cruel.”
“Mother also obtained text records of Meredith plotting with her sister to accidentally get pregnant with my baby.”
“What?”
“Meredith just wanted my money. Dad knew, and Mom proved it.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Technically, I want your money too. Your mom is going to hate me.”
I stroke my fingers through her messy, wet hair. “But you’re a greedy girl. You want more than money. You want my fucking heart like it’s negotiable.”
“I’m tenacious.”
“Needy. The word is needy.”
“You like it,” she taunts.
“As long as you keep letting me whip your ass and then fucking it, I’ll tell you whatever you need to hear, baby.”
“For the record, Win, I can tell when you feed me bullshit lines and when you mean it. You mean it a lot more than when you don’t.”
“You think you know everything, little girl.”
“I know enough.”
“Go to sleep.”
She’s quiet for a bit, and I almost fall asleep until she speaks again.
“Whatever happened to Meredith?”
“She married Duncan Baldridge.”
I smirk as I think about how much hell I’ve put the Baldridge family through. Most recently, involving Leo Morelli by selling the Baldridge Plaza building.
“I hope she has a miserable life,” Ash says. “She deserves it.”
“It’s quite miserable indeed.” I laugh. “It pleases me endlessly.”
Satisfied by my answer, she cuddles against me and soon falls asleep. I can’t relax, though. The last girl I slept with on the regular almost twenty years ago, I learned she betrayed me. I barely survived it back then. I certainly won’t survive it this time.
Because as much as I thought I cared about Meredith . . .
It was only one tiny sliver of the way I feel about Ash.
This bratty, needy girl in my arms is going to destroy my life, and I’m going to fucking let her.
And Mother will rub it in my face once more.
22
Ash
“You can’t sleep all day.”
I crack my eyes open and squint at the fully dressed figure looming over my bed.
Winston Constantine.
My villainous lover.
“What time is it?” I grumble. “When did you get up?”
“Some of us get up with the birds.” He snatches the blanket and yanks it off my body. “Or should I say one particularly loud bird. How do you sleep through that noise?”
“It’s not noise. He’s singing.”
“He should take lessons. Get up and showered.” His fingers brush over my stomach where the Sharpie still stains my skin.
Winston’s Dirty Whore.
“I’ll drop you off at your house on the way to the Constantine Compound,” he says, making his way over to my closet. “Call me if your idiot brothers give you trouble.”
“Step,” I mutter. “Dad and Manda will be there getting ready too. And her stylist.”
“Good.” He pulls a dress off the hanger and tosses it onto the bed. “Wear this and the sandals you wore to dinner the other day. The nude Jimmy Choos. I like the way they make your calves look.”
I sit up on my knees and drink in his handsome appearance. He’s back to wearing another impeccable suit without a hair out of place. There’s a certain rigidity to him that I understand to be nerves.
Climbing off the bed, not bothering to cover my nakedness since he’s seen it all, I approach him and hug him from behind. He’s stiff at first and then relaxes slightly.
“Happy birthday, Win.”
He allows me to hold him for all of thirty seconds before he’s extricating himself from me. Win’s not the best cuddler. Apparently, he’s even worse when he’s stressed.
“We don’t have all day. Mother wants me to come over early for a drink and pictures. Vanity Fair will be doing a piece.” He walks over to the dresser, tidying up a pile of cherry Starburst into a neat stack before he grabs my phone and unplugs it from the charger. “I’ll entertain myself while I wait.”
As much as I’d love to crawl into his lap and watch the video we made last night, I do need to shower and dress. If I want to look the part of Winston Constantine’s personal assistant and lover, I need to put some effort into it. I don’t need to give his mother any added ammunition on what will be a hate brigade against me. I have enough haters.
After a quick shower, I pull my wet hair into a messy bun, knowing the stylist will want to dry it. I forgo the makeup and pull on some undergarments, all the while listening to the hot sounds of our feral lovemaking from the night before. Winston looks good enough to eat with an erection straining in his slacks as he leans against the doorjamb watching my phone with an evil smirk on his face. Once I’m dressed, I walk over to him and peek at it. He’s at the part where he’s in my ass, pounding into me like he hates me. My skin burns hot at seeing the two of us together. It makes me want to watch the whole thing.