I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 178 - 179 Jealous

Chapter 178: Chapter 179 Jealous

The crowd thickened fast.

Half of them didn’t even know who I was, just saw phones flashing and assumed I was somebody worth filming.

One woman actually elbowed a man out of the way so she could snap a photo over my shoulder.

Someone brushed against my coat.

Another girl asked me to sign her canvas tote bag with a borrowed Sharpie.

I hadn’t even noticed Ashton had disappeared.

When I finally glanced around, he was standing alone by a metal bench in the middle of the pedestrian zone, arms folded, watching the crowd like he was ready to punch someone.

I caught his eye.

He straightened instantly, dropped the scowl and put on his most neutral expression.

It was the fakest look I’d ever seen on him.

I raised one eyebrow.

He gave me a shallow nod, like he wasn’t currently burning holes in every person who got within three feet of me.

I went back to the girls, who had now started trying to guess which gemstone matched my ‘vibe’.

Five more minutes passed.

Then ten.

Then some guy asked if I was single.

His mate laughed like it was the cleverest thing anyone had ever said.

Another phone was pushed at me.

I heard it before I saw him.

Heavy footsteps, coming fast. Then fingers closed around my wrist and yanked.

‘Oi, what the hell?’ one of the girls snapped.

‘You can’t just grab her!’

‘Who even are you?’

Ashton turned to face the loudest ones in the crowd.

He lifted his left hand and showed them the ring.

Then he did the same with my hand.

Behind us, someone shouted, ‘Wait, who the hell was that? Is she safe?’

‘Did you not see the rings? And the matching clothes. They’re a couple.’

‘He didn’t like us crowding her. That was a warning.’

‘Forget it, they’re gone. Let’s go check the pop-up across the street—’

Ashton moved fast.

My arm was still in his grip, and his legs were longer than mine.

I had to jog to keep up.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked. ‘Why are we leaving?’

His voice was clipped. ‘We’re going to miss the countdown.’

I looked at the time. ‘We’ve got hours. They were just fans. That was literally the friendliest group I’ve ever met.’

He kept walking, jaw tight. ‘I’m starving.’

‘Fine,’ I said.

I turned around for one last look.

A girl with red braids waved her phone in the air.

‘She wanted to know what lipstick shade I was wearing.’

He snorted. ‘You don’t know what people like that are planning. You should stop posting selfies. Stick to your design sketches. Less chance of someone stealing your face for something dodgy.’

I stopped in the middle of the pavement.

The wind hit my cheeks.

I stared at him.

He never used to care about that sort of thing.

And he definitely didn’t used to sound that pissy.

I burst out laughing. ‘Oh my God. You’re jealous. You’re actually mad.’

His ears flushed.

He grabbed my hand and charged ahead again. ‘I’m not. I said we’re getting food.’

‘Fine, fine,’ I said, still laughing. ‘We’re getting food.’

***

We’d just finished a late dinner and were walking through Midtown Crossing, hand in hand.

The square was packed—shoulders brushing, phones up, people shouting over each other.

Most were clustered under the giant screen in the centre, waiting for the countdown.

I was fine until the crowd shifted.

Out of nowhere, people started sprinting towards the screen like there was money flying out of it.

One man elbowed past me, another shoved Ashton from the side.

Someone slammed right between us and knocked our hands apart.

His palm disappeared from mine.

The air hit my skin where his hand had been.

I turned fast, heart hammering.

Ashton was still nearby, just to my right, maybe three or four people away.

He spotted me instantly.

‘Ashton!’ I shouted, trying to push through, but the mass between us refused to give.

He shoved forward.

I darted sideways.

Each time I moved, someone blocked me.

Every time I blinked, someone new was in the way.

We were so close I could see the crease in his brow, the way his jaw clenched when he looked at me.

The clock ticked 23:59.

I was sweating. Not from heat, from trying not to panic.

‘Stay there! I’m coming to you!’ he yelled.

His voice cut through the screaming.

He started pushing people aside, arm after arm, like he didn’t care who complained.

His eyes locked on mine and didn’t move once.

I pushed forward, breath short, dodging arms and backs and hair.

Someone spilt beer on my shirt.

I didn’t stop.

Behind me, the screen flared white.

A booming voice shouted: ‘Ten! Nine! Eight!’

The crowd eased.

People stopped running.

Phones shot up.

I saw Ashton.

‘Seven! Six!’

I ran.

My boots hit the pavement hard.

One step, two, someone grabbed their kid and opened a gap.

‘Five! Four! Three!’

I ducked between a couple snogging against a barrier.

‘Two!’

His hand reached out.

‘One!’

I shoved past the last body between us and slammed into Ashton’s chest just as the crowd screamed out the final second.

The square lit up in a burst of white.

Floodlights snapped on from every direction, blinding and sharp.

People shouted, jumped, hugged strangers.

Someone behind me yelled so loud my eardrums rang.

Ashton locked his arms around me like he wasn’t letting go.

I grabbed the back of his shirt and held on.

The screen above us flashed red and gold.

Three massive words flickered on it, bold and glowing.

‘Happy New Year.’

Dozens of voices shouted it from all sides, overlapping and echoing.

I heard Ashton’s breath close to my ear.

‘Happy New Year,’ he said.

I looked past his shoulder.

Fireworks shot into the sky and exploded behind him, sharp, bright, fast.

Blue, green, white.

The smoke trailed in jagged lines that blurred into the black.

Everything else fell away.

I couldn’t feel the cold or the weight of people shoving past.

Just him.