Billionaire Ashton Brooks has a bad reputation that he just can't seem to shake. He's rude, spoiled, toys with women, and mocks anyone below him. He's never had to work hard for what he has, and he's not afraid to show it. But when his public image...
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Something warm and comforting rested on my head. I pressed my head into the linen, turning ever so slightly to nuzzle against a large, rough palm. My eyes blinked open just enough to see Ashton pull back.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my eyes groggy from sleep. "What time is it?" I squinted at the clock on the wall to answer my own question. Just a little after 2 in the morning.
"Nothing. Where am I?" Ashton asked quickly.
Everything came rushing back in the midst of my tiredness, waking me up completely. Ashton looked at me so innocently, it was hard to believe he was the source of chaos in my life. I sat back in my chair, away from where my head was resting on his bed.
"The hospital. You blacked out while you were acting crazy, and we had to call an ambulance for you. Apparently, you have the flu. The doctor said you were severely dehydrated."
Ashton groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillow with his palms over his eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Everything you did back there was so unhinged, Rafael quit. He said he's had enough of your constant screaming, and this was the last straw. I'm starting to feel the same way."
My usual sweet self was now on the back burner as I spilled my feelings. I was still angry about the dinner thing, and Ashton embarrassed me while I was on a date. Not to mention, he was probably on one himself. He seemed really close to that Sammie person. But once he said that I belonged to him, everything just felt a lot more complicated. The anger was mixed with something else, and although Rafael was able to walk away, I followed Ashton to the hospital like an obedient puppy.
"I don't know what came over me. I swear. It was probably the flu. My brain is all messed up right now," Ashton said in a hoarse voice.
"Right. The flu," I repeated, slightly unconvinced.
"So, are you leaving, too? I won't stop you. It's always been your choice." Ashton looked at me with big, pleading eyes. This was another side of him, which happened so infrequently, it was easy to think of him as a cold-hearted monster. But inside he was soft. Soft and squishy like a sponge cake.
"We'll see," I teased. "Just don't make me sick. I have work on Monday."
"No promises," he smirked.
Heat crept into my ears as I read too deeply into his words.
--
Unfortunately, his words held their ominous meaning the very next day, every swallow feeling like a thousand pins stabbing my throat. I leaned over the sink, trying to decide if I should clean the dishes or barf.
With Rafael gone, I decided I would try my hand at making some simple chicken soup for Ashton, but I ended up making a huge batch to include myself. As I worsened over the day, cooking was the last thing I wanted to do, but I powered through it for the hope of a better tomorrow. Ashton was already doing better after being discharged from the hospital, and I felt jealous since I was just beginning to feel worse.
