I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 156 - 157 Gun Lessons

Chapter 156: Chapter 157 Gun Lessons

Ashton’s jaw was tight again.

I raised both hands. ‘Alright, alright. I’ll take a couple of days off. Happy?’

Barely. His eyes narrowed.

‘Was it you?’ I asked. ‘The Harper clean-up? It was too fast to be Cassian’s work.’ I gave him a thumbs-up. ‘Thanks for the help.’

His expression darkened. ‘I wasn’t “helping” you. Protecting my wife is part of the contract clauses.’

I blinked. ‘I don’t remember that.’

‘I wrote the contract.’

Fair point. I dropped it.

‘I’ll assign you bodyguards,’ he said.

‘No.’ I didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m not walking around with shadows. I want to live, not be babysat.’

His glare didn’t budge.

He looked like he was weighing whether to fight me on it.

So I rose from the sofa and kissed him on the cheek.

‘Thanks for caring,’ I said. ‘But it was a one-off. Not happening again.’

He stared at me.

‘I’ll carry pepper spray,’ I added.

He exhaled. ‘Fine. I’ll get you a gun permit.’

‘I’ve never fired one. I don’t even know how.’

‘Then you’ll learn.’

I glanced at his hands.

Not soft hands. The kind with memory in them.

I’d noticed it on day one.

The calluses. Right spots for either a pen... or a gun.

Now I was pretty sure which one it was.

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it again.

There was a part of me that wanted to ask.

About the past.

About how exactly he’d come to be the kind of man who said ‘Then you’ll learn’ like gun training was as routine as brushing your teeth.

I wanted to know if he’d ever used one.

But I didn’t ask.

Not because I didn’t care.

Because I thought of Cassian.

It wasn’t fair to compare.

Ashton was nothing like him.

But still... what if?

I’d spent years pining after Rhys.

I’d built a fantasy on crumbs and carried it like a meal.

Did I really want to do that again?

Ashton wasn’t crumbs.

Ashton was... whole. Composed. Reliable.

Dangerous in ways that made you feel safe, not scared.

But if I stepped into something real with him—fully stepped in—what would I lose if it went wrong?

And then there was what Cassian had said.

That Ashton had loved someone else, for years.

Some mystery woman who, for whatever reason, he couldn’t have.

So I swallowed my question.

***

I wasn’t allowed out of the house till three whole days later.

The air in the studio tasted like freedom, and the work was what I’d been starved of.

I was polishing a pearl necklace with a lint-free cloth, using slow, exact strokes.

The clasp clicked every time I shifted it.

The pearls were round, flawless, warm against my fingers.

It was a custom order from Yvaine, a wedding gift for her cousin, Rachel Stone.

I’d met Rachel twice.

She smiled with all her teeth and had the kind of posture that made other women straighten up around her.

Her wedding was in two days.

I was sending her a matching set, necklace and earrings.

The earrings were already boxed.

The necklace had come off the stringing board ten minutes ago.

Yvaine wanted Rachel to wear it down the aisle, so I planned to pack it and have Daniel run it over before lunch.

The wind chimes by the studio door jingled.

I glanced up from my workbench.

Light footsteps.

I was still on the mezzanine, half-crouched over the tray.

I set the necklace down and stood, brushing my palms down the sides of my apron.

Below me, Priya was greeting the walk-in customer.

‘Good afternoon, miss. Are you here for a commission?’

‘No. I’m looking for Mirabelle.’

I paused mid-step.

I hadn’t seen her for months, but I’d never forget that voice.

Catherine’s voice sounded off, like her throat had dried out halfway through the sentence.

I crept to the railing and peeked down.

From my angle above, I could see everything.

Her skin looked greyish.

Her mouth was colourless.

Her balance shifted every few seconds, like she couldn’t stay upright for long.

I stared at her stomach.

I didn’t see much of a bump.

I raised a hand and gestured quickly at Daniel.

He stood at the far end of the mezzanine with a tablet in one hand and a croissant in the other.

He frowned.

I pointed at him, then at my phone, then at Catherine.

He got the hint, shoved the croissant in his mouth, and opened the camera app.

Once Daniel started recording, I moved slowly down the stairs.

Below, Priya reached a hand towards Catherine’s elbow. ‘You look a little unwell. Why don’t you sit down? I’ll go get Mirabelle.’

‘Priya, don’t touch her!’ I called out. ‘She’s pregnant. Keep your distance.’

Priya froze mid-step, hand half-raised, and quickly backed off.

She glanced up at me, startled.

I caught her expression—confused, polite, too professional to ask what the hell that was about.

Catherine’s hand flew to her stomach like it had a magnet in it.

Her face went paler than it already was.

I came down the stairs but stopped short, keeping a good two metres between us.

‘You need something?’

Catherine forced a smile. Her lips barely moved. ‘Nothing urgent. I was passing by and thought I’d pop in... maybe ask for a glass of water.’

Right. Because the woman who stole my ex-fiancé and hated my guts just wandered into jewellery studios for hydration.

Her tone was placatory, almost submissive.

It was new.

Usually, she acted like I was something she’d stepped over on a pavement.

Priya glanced between us, probably wondering why I looked like I wanted to call pest control.

I didn’t move any closer.

‘We just finished renovations. Nothing’s stocked yet. No water. No snacks.’

Catherine’s smile twitched. She nodded like she understood, but didn’t step back.

‘I just wanted to see how you’re doing. Rhys and I are married now. That Chapter’s closed. I don’t see you as the enemy.’

‘Fine by me if you do see me as the enemy,’ I said. ‘But there’s still no water, and we’re working. You done?’