Chapter 89
Asher’s fov
The moment Ivy’s band shot up in a wave, my stomach twisted. I
followed her gaze, and there he was Dexter, the man who had appeared in her stories countless times, the one draped all over her during that damn vacation.
My jaw tightened, fists clenching as she raised her glass to me with a smug smile and sashayed away. It took every ounce of restraint not to lose it right
there.
She’d brought him here, fully aware of what it would do to me. I wasn’t sure what angered me more – her audacity or his willingness to show up
The sea of cameras and curious onlookers forced me to keep my composure. This wasn’t just about me, if a scandal broke, Pry would suffer ton. Despite everything, I didn’t want that for her.
Yet, the thought of her entertaining another man set my blood boiling. I hated how powerless I felt–torn between fury and quilt
I knew what I’d done to her. I had no right to demand loyalty when I hadn’t proven my innocence. But those damning pictures with Taylor weren’t what they seemed. If only she’d believe me.
“Mr. Sterling? Asher?”
I snapped out of my thoughts to find the small group I’d been standing with staring at me expectantly. Clearing my throat, I forced a smile. “Apologies, lost in thought. What was the question again?”
One of them, a young executive, repeated, “We were asking about the estimated sales projections for Ivy–the wine, that is,” he added with a small smile
I nodded, giving a measured response about growth, branding, and projected figures. My answers were automatic, rehearsed. But my focus drifted back to her. She stood across the room, radiating confidence in a shimmering black dress that clung to her like a second skin.
Her hair was slicked back, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. I couldn’t help imagining undoing that dress, peeling it off her delicate frame, inch by inch.
My cock stirred uncomfortably in my pants. Torture didn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. Seeing her every day in our home, walking around in those flimsy house clothes, was bad enough. But this? She was a vision – close yet completely out of reach.
And then there was Dexter.
He hovered near her, soaking up her every word with a wide smile that was far too eager. Every subtle touch of his hand against her arm made my stomach churn. She laughed, and while it wasn’t her real laugh- more polite than genuine- it still stung.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, there’s a pressing matter I need to attend to,” I said abruptly, not caring how it sounded.
I weaved through the crowd, my heart pounding as I approached her. Anger burned through me like wildfire, but beneath it was something raw and unnameable. I wasn’t just mad–something about the way he looked at her, like she was his, sent me over the edge.
She was mine.
As I neared, I caught the tail end of her sentence. “The fashion show held at-”
I slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her into me before she could finish. Her body stiffened, but I leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “My little flower,” I murmured, loud enough for the group around her to hear.
The others cooed at the gesture, murmuring about how sweet it was. But I felt the tension in Ivy’s posture, the way her smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Dexter’s discomfort was palpable, his gaze flickering between us. Good, He needed to understand his place.
“Dexter, isn’t it?” I asked, locking eyes with him.
1/2
Chapter 89
Asher…” Ivy whispered softly, a warning in her tone.
ignored her, pulling her even closer: “Yes, flower?”
Her cheeks flushed red, her embarrassment visible.
Dexter’s jaw tightened as he finally nodded. “Yes. I’m Dexter,” he replied, his voice steady, though I didn’t miss the slight trethor in his hand
“You’re a photographer, right?” My tone was too casual. “Why don’t you take a picture of me and my wife?”
Before Ivy could protest, I tightened my grip, letting my hand fall to her ass. She froze beside me, her smile strained. Dexter hesitated, his face betraying his unease, but he raised the camera.
“Go on,” I urged flatly, keeping my expression neutral.
The group joined in, laughing and posing, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. Dexter’s jaw flexed as he clicked the shutter, but his eyes lingered on Ivy.
“Beautiful as always, Ivy,” he said softly, lowering the camera.
I caught the admiration in his gaze, the way he looked at her like she was the center of his world. My stomach churned.
“Thank you, Dexter,” Ivy replied coolly, though I could sense her discomfort.
I forced a grin, leaning even closer to her. “Why don’t you take a few more? You seem to enjoy it.”
Dexter didn’t respond, only lifting the camera again, but his hands were less steady this time. I kept my grip firm on Ivy’s waist, my fingers deliberately brushing her ass.
If he thought he could have her, he was dead wrong.
AD
