But with those thoughts came the guilt. Guilt at feeling things I had no right to. Dominic was my husband. It was wrong to be lusting after another man.
Not once during the last two weeks had Ashton mentioned what happened that night—nor did he try to do it again. While I was beginning to think it was wrong of Dominic to treat me the way he did, and wondering if I’d have the courage to demand better when I got home, I soaked up everything Ashton gave me, knowing that the attention I was getting from him was the best I was ever going to get.
And there were things I wouldn’t want to give up when I got home. Like always cleaning up after dinner, or missing new movies because Dominic wouldn’t want to take me. I was becoming more independent. “Growing a backbone” Ashton called it. Little things like picking my own dinner, or choosing the movie we watched got easier the more I did it. Ashton had even taken me out to dinner at one of his restaurants, introduced me to his employees.
My first thought had been to panic. Dominic had no problem announcing his displeasure at having to dine with me to the whole restaurant. If asked, I’d struggle to remember a time when we hadn’t rushed through our meal; Dominic always choosing to sit as far away from me as he could, paying more attention to the waitress than me, and not being shy about it either. It wasn’t uncommon of him to flirt with these women, even offer them his number, something that left them confused about who I was, even though I sat opposite him wearing a matching wedding band. I never ordered for myself, and if I didn’t like what he’d chosen for me then I knew to stay quiet. Once, not long after we were married, I’d made the mistake of speaking up and his response had been to coat my food in pepper and watch on as he forced me to eat it. I’d managed about four bites before excusing myself to the ladies’ room to vomit—another thing I’d been punished for when we got home.
Yet in his own restaurant, surrounded by people whom he trusted and respected, Ashton’s eyes had screamed pride. I wasn’t used to it. It was foreign to me. Everything in this world was new. By the time our entrees arrived, I was relaxed. This may have also had something to do with the two glasses of wine. The whole evening was thoroughly enjoyable. For the most part, Ashton spoke and I listened, and I learned much about him; all of which I liked.
In the early days, Ashton had stayed at home during the day, popping out to run errands or collect paperwork, but for the most part he stayed at home with me. Obviously, this couldn’t continue and he eventually returned to his normal schedule. Being left at home while he went to work didn’t freak me out anymore, although I still felt guilty about not contributing to the running of the household. But as many times as I tried to help, Ashton blew me off, claiming I’d done enough work over the last few years and I deserved some time off. Then he showed me the gym in the basement and encouraged me to blow off some steam.
The moment the words left his mouth, I was reminded that I hadn't done any exercise since I left Dominic. Even when I was at home I at least managed a small workout, in terms of a brisk walk to and from work. Add to that the fact I was eating more food—richer food—and I could almost feel the extra weight around my stomach and hips, a cold rush washing through me when I realized that Dominic would notice, and no doubt have something to say about it.
Ashton’s reply still danced around my head.
“You do not need to lose weight. That’s not why I brought you down here. Stop letting Dominic’s idiotic comments affect the way you see yourself. The rest of the world doesn’t see you that way.”
Tonight we were heading to his parents’ house for dinner. The whole thing made me want to throw up, partly because I didn’t understand why I was invited. I was a temporary inconvenience for Ashton. Meeting the parents didn’t exactly register on the agenda for short-term houseguests.
Standing in the kitchen, downing a drink of water after a run on the treadmill, I heard the garage door open and a minute later, Ashton stepped through the door. Seeing him made me almost swallow my tongue. What I wouldn’t give to be the kind of sexy that brought a man like him home to me each night; the kind of sexy that drove men wild enough to think of spending the night with me. I’d long ago accepted that men like Ashton Hawes weren’t meant for someone simple and homely like me, but that didn’t make the disappointment burn any less each time it reared its ugly head.
“Ready for tonight?”
His question caught me off guard and I pulled the band out of my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders as I tried to buy some time. “Are you sure you want me to meet your parents? You have to admit, ours isn’t the most conventional situation.”
He stepped forward into my space, crossing his arms over his chest, a dark look crossing his face. “Elena, we’ve been through this. My parents already know the situation. This isn’t about you meeting them—it’s about you getting the help you need.”
“I already know Dominic needs to treat me better, Ashton. You’ve helped me figure that out.”
“Except the only thing you’ve learned is that he shouldn’t treat you as a slave. Are you ready to leave him?”
I shook my head, the urge to drop my eyes to the ground almost too much, but I caught myself just in time. Ashton had taught me that if I wanted to keep people from taking advantage of me, I needed to show that I wasn’t afraid. “How can I? He’s the only one who wants me.”
“He’s not.”
His voice was firm; his eyes cutting to me, turning molten, raking over my body, and although I wore a simple outfit of a tank and a pair of running shorts, the way he was staring at me, I may as well have been in my underwear. I froze in place. Men didn’t look at me that way. He was just trying to be nice.
“Dominic may need work, but I can help him change.”
He clenched his jaw. “He’s an asshole and you need to understand he doesn’t want to change.”
“And how would you know?” The muscles in my body tensed. I hadn’t fought back in years and it felt good. Ashton’s eye went wide for a second. He was shocked. Then his jaw relaxed and he reached forward to cup my cheek.
“Good to see you have a backbone, even if I won’t agree. Now go get ready. We need to leave soon.”
And just like that, he walked away. Ashton was one confusing man. One minute he looked fit to jump me, the next he was angry, then he was walking away.
I contemplated his varying moods as I climbed the stairs, going in search of the dress I’d picked out to wear. It was the first time in forever that I’d had more options than I knew what to do with and so choosing had taken some time, and even then I wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision. My hands shook as I attempted to apply the make up like the girl at the spa showed me; partly because I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, partly because I was going to dinner at crime boss’s house. I had no idea what to expect. I had a feeling that my stereotypical ideas, all from TV, were completely wrong. Which left me feeling lost as to what I’d be walking into.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I examined my outfit once again to make sure it worked for the night. The black sheath dress complimented my figure—according to the personal shopper Ashton sent. With its deep V at the neckline and lace capped sleeves, it was nicer than anything I’d ever owned. I took in my appearance in the full-length mirror, seeing my transformation from top to toe. I left my long hair loose, curling the ends, resisting the temptation to pull it away from my face in my normal ponytail. Even with the nerves about the impending dinner, I felt beautiful.
Satisfied that everything was in its place, I grabbed my black purse and left my room. I turned the corner and waiting at the bottom of the stairs was Ashton, his black suit fitting him perfectly, outlining every muscle in his body. I was so busy staring I almost stumbled down the stairs but, luckily, I caught myself before I went down in a heap.