I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 205 - 206 My Decision

Chapter 205: Chapter 206 My Decision

My phone buzzed again before I’d even finished reading his last message.

Ashton: [If I ask properly this time—can we go public?]

The screen lit up with the text, plain and cold.

But somehow I could feel him in it—tense, holding back, waiting for me to say yes.

I just sat there, staring.

A minute ago I’d been ranting about the event organisers and reminding him to stay the hell away from Rowan Hale.

I was about to say goodnight.

Then this?

I reread his message.

My brain stalled.

My limbs felt heavy, like I’d just walked in from the snow.

The phone dinged again.

Ashton: [Would you be okay if I tag you in my next post? As my wife?]

Okay, so I definitely didn’t misinterpret his last message.

A long moment later, all I managed to come up with was: [Let me think.]

Ashton: [Okay.]

I tossed the phone aside, slapped my cheeks lightly and sat up straighter.

Did I want to?

Yeah, I liked him.

I wasn’t embarrassed about it.

I didn’t mind people knowing we were together.

But going public online wasn’t the same as telling Yvaine or my colleagues.

It meant putting it all out there—every photo, every comment, every inch of my life, linked to his, tied to his name.

If Ashton were a nobody, I wouldn’t have hesitated.

But he wasn’t.

And I wasn’t, either.

The internet would have a field day.

I thought about that photo again, the one with him next to Rowan.

My chest clenched like it had earlier, tight and hot.

Okay, fine, if I had to be honest with myself, I was jealous.

In my head, Ashton was already mine.

Seeing him next to her made me want to slam something into a wall.

I didn’t want to share. Not even a headline.

I got up, walked into the bathroom, saw my reflection in the mirror, imagined Ashton’s face next to mine.

Yes, that was the only place his face belonged to—next to mine.

To hell with it.

I stood there, staring at myself, palms braced against the bathroom sink.

My reflection didn’t flinch.

Neither did I.

If the price of silence was seeing his name beside another woman’s, any woman’s, then I wasn’t going to stay quiet.

I’d rather have my life torn apart by gossip blogs than have to live through that again.

Let them come.

Let them call me a social climber. A gold digger. A trophy wife with nothing to her name but luck and good taste.

They could pick apart every bit of my background, drag up old LinkedIn posts, critique my shoes, my hair, my voice.

They could compare the gap in our bank accounts and speculate about how many zeros he had over me.

I’d survive it.

I didn’t care anymore.

And I knew, without a shred of doubt, that I wouldn’t be in this alone.

He’d stand with me.

I stormed back into the bedroom and picked up my phone again: [Let’s go public.]

I stared, waited.

And waited some more.

No reply from Ashton.

I checked the time.

It was way past midnight.

Maybe he was asleep.

I set down my phone, a little disappointed.

Then—

Ashton: [Open the door.]

I was confused: [???]

Then I heard a knock. Short, sharp, impatient.

My head snapped up.

Jumping down from the bed, I padded to the door, eased it open just a sliver.

‘What—what are you doing—’

He pushed in before I finished, one foot past the threshold, the rest of him following in a clean, forceful motion.

The door slammed behind him.

His hand caught my waist.

He turned me, pinned me to the door, and kissed me hard.

There was no pause, no restraint.

His mouth was hungry, his grip unrelenting.

He crushed me against the wood, one arm locked tight around my lower back, the other braced beside my head.

He tasted like mint and heat.

I gasped into his mouth and clawed at his shirt.

I sagged. My knees buckled.

He caught me before I could slide, hauled me up by the waist with one arm, the other curling under my thigh.

He carried me across the room, dropped me onto the bed with a thud, and followed without hesitation.

For a moment, he hovered.

I stared up at him, lips parted, chest rising fast.

He stared back.

Then he dipped again, kissing my jaw, my neck, the soft skin above my shoulder.

His mouth burned a trail down to my collarbone.

He pulled back just far enough for me to see his pupils had dilated.

He pressed a thumb to the side of my neck.

The touch made me realise how fast my pulse had become.

He dragged his thumb lower, skimming the edge of my top, eyes locked on mine the entire time.

Then he leaned down and bit my collarbone. Hard.

I flinched. ‘That hurt...’

He pulled back just enough to exhale, forehead pressed against my throat.

His chest heaved against mine.

‘Do you mean it?’

‘What?’

My brain still hadn’t caught up.

Everything felt overheated.

My skin prickled.

My chest rose and fell way too fast.

‘That message,’ he said. ‘To go public.’

‘Yeah, I mean it.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why did you agree to go public?’

‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’

‘Yes. I know my own reason, but not yours.’

‘What’s your reason? To distance yourself from Rowan?’

‘I asked you first.’

‘Fine.’ I thought about it. ‘I like you. I don’t want to see your name linked with another woman’s. That’s my reason.’

His head snapped up, his gaze pinning me in place.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘Say that again.’

I repeated it.

‘You like me.’ His hand on my waist tightened. His voice came low.

‘Yeah.’ I turned my head away, slightly embarrassed.

Why did I feel like a teenager all of a sudden?

‘You like me,’ he repeated.

I felt his heart banging against my ribs.

He wasn’t even touching me there—I could just feel it, like a drum through the floor.

He pushed himself up just enough to look at me properly.

His face was flushed, hair a mess.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, softer this time.

I stared up at him. ‘What about you?’

‘I love you.’