I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 198 - 199 Ashton’s POV: Bad Blood

Chapter 198: Chapter 199 Ashton’s POV: Bad Blood

The private room on the second floor smelled like truffle oil and aged liquor.

Cassian stepped forward with both arms spread, grinning. ‘Took you long enough. You’ve been dodging dinners like I’m trying to sell you insurance. You said you wanted to explore media, so I brought the heads of three production houses. Big names. All sharp.’

Ashton nodded once. ‘Fine.’

He stepped in, eyes sweeping the room.

Three men stood immediately.

Their suits were tight across the chest, watches polished, smiles over-eager.

Then he saw her.

Rowan Hale sat at the centre of the table in a wine-red blazer.

Her legs were crossed, heels sharp enough to puncture carpet.

She stood slowly, smiling.

Cassian caught Ashton’s look, and chuckled under his breath. ‘You two already know each other, right? Heard you reconnected in Riverbend. She’s back in Skyline now. Thinking of signing with us. Figured dinner would be... efficient.’

‘We had dinner just a few days ago, actually,’ Rowan said sweetly.

The producers’ attention shifted.

One of them adjusted his cuff.

Another leaned slightly forward.

Cassian’s grin widened. ‘Great, saves me the introductions. Let’s all sit.’

He nudged Ashton from behind.

Ashton stayed still for half a second, then stepped forward and took the nearest seat.

He didn’t look at Rowan.

He said the minimum: a few greetings, a few shallow questions.

The men answered eagerly, but the numbers they quoted, the projects they mentioned—all of it ran grey and thin in his ears.

He looked at the dishes in front of him.

Lobster, black cod, some over-complicated beet salad.

He didn’t touch any of it.

‘Excuse me,’ he said abruptly, pushing back his chair.

Cassian caught up with him in the hallway outside. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘I needed air.’

Cassian squinted at him.

Then he tugged Ashton towards the corner staircase and out onto the narrow balcony.

The concrete floor was damp, and someone had stubbed out a cigarette on the railing.

‘This about Rowan?’ Cassian asked, voice dropping. ‘Didn’t realise you two had bad blood. I thought you got along.’

‘We don’t.’ Ashton stared at the street below. ‘If I’d known she’d be here, I wouldn’t have come.’

‘You two have history or something?’

‘We were photographed the other night. Whoever took it tried to make it look like we were seeing each other.’

Cassian winced. ‘Shit. That was her?’

Ashton gave a short nod.

‘Brilliant. Now I look like a bloody idiot.’ Cassian rubbed his forehead, muttering. ‘So you think she staged it? Got someone to follow you, take the photo? To get attention? I don’t want to sign her if she’s capable of scheming like that.’

‘That’s your guess, not mine,’ Ashton said. ‘Sign her or don’t. It’s your company. Just keep her the hell away from me.’

‘Noted.’

The tension between them began to loosen.

Cassian reached into his coat, pulled out a pack of Camels, and offered one.

Ashton shook his head. ‘Quit.’

‘Since when?’

Ashton’s mouth curved, almost into a smile. ‘A while ago. She can’t stand the smell.’

Cassian’s cigarette twitched between his fingers. He scowled. ‘Right. Must be nice. Here, let me light one just to piss myself off. Since no one cares if I die of lung cancer.’

He bit down on the filter hard enough to leave teeth marks, flicked the lighter, and leaned against the railing beside Ashton.

Smoke coiled around his ear.

Ashton tilted his head. ‘Thought you were marrying the Rivera girl.’

‘Called it off.’ Cassian exhaled sharply. ‘She’s... just too much drama. She and her parents, damn, I...’

He launched into a full complaint, voice rising, hands waving, swearing freely.

The cigarette burned unevenly between his fingers.

Ashton didn’t interrupt.

After a few minutes, the rant ran out.

Cassian gave Ashton’s shoulder a hard slap. ‘I thought you were done with me, you know. After the Harper thing. You and Emmett iced me out of that bidding round, had me cursing you behind your back for a week. Don’t team up with that smug bastard. Stick with me. You know how I operate.’

‘You brought that on yourself,’ Ashton retorted. ‘Stop messing with Yvaine Carlisle and we won’t have a problem.’

Cassian groaned. ‘It wasn’t even that serious.’

‘It made Mirabelle angry. If she’s angry, I’m not interested in being near you.’

Cassian held up a hand like he was swearing in at court. ‘I’m done with Yvaine. Ancient history, seriously.’

Footsteps echoed down the hall.

Rowan Hale appeared in the doorway. ‘You’ve been out here a while. The room’s full of heavyweights and I’m stuck smiling like a lowly intern.’

Cassian looked at Ashton.

Ashton didn’t speak.

Cassian stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Come on, let’s head back. At least say goodbye before you ditch.’

‘Fine.’ Ashton walked back in with Cassian at his side, Rowan leading the way.

Back in the room, someone nudged their phone across the table.

‘Is this Mr Laurent and Miss Hale? You were just outside. Someone got a shot.’

Ashton glanced at the screen.

Rowan stood beside him in the photo, three steps apart.

Neither of them was looking at the camera.

But the angle was deliberate, close, and caught his face in full.

Cassian had been cropped out completely.

The lighting suggested indoor exposure. The resolution was sharp.

He looked at Rowan.

One coincidence could be dismissed.

Two could not.

Another guest leaned forward, phone in hand. ‘It’s picking up fast. Might hit the trending list before dessert.’

Ashton’s face wasn’t public, but his name was.

The online speculation had already started.

Cassian had his phone out, barking instructions to someone.

Rowan exhaled hard. ‘Ashton, this is a mess. It wasn’t me, I swear. I didn’t arrange anyone. How the hell did they even get into the building?’

She tapped on the image, squinting. ‘This isn’t from outside. No glass reflection, no glare. They had to be in here. Probably one of the customers.’

‘They’ve got to still be close,’ one of the men nodded. ‘That post went up barely two minutes ago.’

No one needed more encouragement.

All three men moved at once, dragging staff with them, all pretending it wasn’t for Ashton’s benefit.

Twelve minutes later, a young man in a dark windbreaker was shoved through the door.