I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis
Chapter 83 - 84 Final Rehearsal

Chapter 83: Chapter 84 Final Rehearsal

‘I admit nothing. When I choose to come back has absolutely zilch to do with you. Same goes for whether you hit Eliza Black’s deadline—none of it’s my problem. So stop projecting.’

Violet let out a derisive hum, clearly not buying a word I said.

‘Fine,’ she said, looking all pleased with herself. ‘Even if you agreed to come back, it’s too late. I’ve already set things up with Eliza. She’s gonna blow up at the film festival in a few days, and once she posts about me on social media, I’ll be a star designer. You won’t even be able to carry my bags, let alone keep up with me.’

I walked back to my desk, letting her ramble on while I ignored her.

Violet had no clue.

She was about to find out the hard way that with all her rush and last-minute changes to the designs, there was no way she was going to hit the mark.

I wouldn’t be surprised if poor Eliza Black ended up looking like a fool at the film festival.

***

After that little verbal cage match, Violet actually chilled out.

She was too busy fantasising about her big break as a ‘world-famous jewellery designer’ to bother picking fights with me.

A few days went by without her dragging me into another playground-level shouting match, and that suited me just fine.

Not that I had time for her nonsense anyway—I had bigger things on my plate.

The main event I’d been ‘rehearsing’ for was finally looming.

The night before Edouard Laurent’s 80th birthday, Ashton called me into the living room after dinner.

‘We’ve both been busy,’ he said, sitting ramrod straight, looking all businesslike. ‘We’ve slacked off on our practice. Tomorrow’s the party, so we’re doing a quick run-through tonight.’

‘Okay,’ I said, no hesitation.

We’d barely seen each other in the past few days, what with me being up to my eyeballs in jewellery work for Octavia Grey.

It had been kind of a relief, but now... I was nervous.

Tomorrow, I’d be in front of the whole Laurent family with him.

I couldn’t afford to mess up, not with everything on the line.

I stepped forward and—without even thinking—lowered myself onto his lap.

The movement was so smooth, I surprised myself.

My thighs locked around his like muscle memory, and the jolt that shot up my spine was instant.

No way to pretend I didn’t feel it.

Ashton’s hands found my waist like magnets, his palms hot through the fabric, fingers resting just shy of too familiar.

God, I’d been trying hard not to think about him since that kiss in the car, but it was impossible now.

The angle of our bodies, the tension humming between us—it was the backseat all over again, minus the leather upholstery and the eavesdropping driver.

His eyes pinned me down.

Blue.

I’d always known that.

But now they looked like Kashmir sapphires—deep, vivid, seductive.

A stone that could mesmerise you into reaching out... then slice you open if you weren’t careful.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure another ‘rehearsal’ was a smart idea.

I felt like I was toeing the edge of something dangerous.

One wrong breath and I’d tumble—straight into territory I couldn’t joke my way out of.

‘See? Not bad, right?’ I forced a grin, coward’s instinct kicking in. ‘Still got the muscle memory. Tomorrow, no one’ll suspect a thing.’

I tried to ease off his lap.

‘I don’t think we need another rehearsal. I’m kind of knackered. Let’s skip practice tonight. I promise I won’t embarrass you tomorrow.’

I’d handled enough black-tie dinners and cutthroat design comps to hold my own.

Rich snobs, brutal judges, backhanded compliments—I’d seen the lot.

And yeah, not to be vain or anything, but I’ve got a face that doesn’t hurt either.

I was just about to push myself off him when his hand slid around the back of my neck, fingers pressing lightly, holding me in place.

‘I’m a firm believer in being prepared,’ he said.

Before I could come up with something clever, his grip tightened, and I pitched forward, right into him—chest to chest, thigh to thigh, heat flaring where our skin met.

Then his mouth was on mine, soft but unyielding, and the contact obliterated every half-formed thought in my brain.

‘Mmm...’ I tried to speak, but his kiss swallowed the words.

It was like the world stopped.

The only thing I could feel, taste, was him.

His tongue slid against mine, slow at first, before it deepened, tasting every inch of me like he was starving.

His lips were warm, firm, and everything around us faded into the background.

There was just the heat, the friction of our bodies pressed together.

I was sinking into him, my fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him closer, like I wanted to absorb his body into mine.

The deepening kiss made my head spin faster, and then—suddenly—he moved, and I was on my back, with him above me.

The soft give of the sofa beneath me was the only thing keeping me grounded.

His chest pressed against mine, tight enough that I couldn’t breathe easily, but it was exactly what I wanted.

The weight of him felt safe, like nothing could touch me as long as he was there.

And, damn it, when his lips left mine, my whole body felt like it had melted into the sofa, like I’d been soaked in warm honey.

I was breathless, dizzy, and wanted very much to yank him back to me.

Ashton’s eyes were locked on mine, dark with something I couldn’t quite name.

His gaze dropped from my lips, lingering on the curve of my neck, and I saw him tense, his jaw clenched.

I didn’t need to be a genius to know he was struggling to keep his composure.

The man was trying way too hard not to lose it.

His hand brushed the bare skin of my lower back as I shifted slightly, and holy hell, if his fingers didn’t send a shockwave through me.

No fabric, just his skin on mine, and suddenly all I could think about was how much I wanted more.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, I thought he might cave, might take it all the way.