Chapter 8
Ashton pushed the closet door open. Isadore was standing by the window, his back to her.
Suddenly, the lights flickered and died. The room plunged into darkness. A loud crack from a nearby transformer, a casualty of the storm, echoed through the glass. It wasn't a city-wide blackout, just a localized surge that tripped the suite's main breaker.
"Stay where you are," Isadore's voice came from the dark.
Ashton moved anyway. She fumbled forward, hands outstretched. Her shin hit the coffee table.
"Ow." She stumbled.
Strong hands caught her arms. She fell against him.
In the dark, the boundaries dissolved. She could feel the heat radiating off him. She could hear his breathing, steady and deep. Her hands rested on his chest, feeling the slow, heavy thud of his heart.
"If you lied about the debt," Isadore whispered, his voice vibrating against her forehead, "I will destroy you."
"I don't lie about money," Ashton whispered back.
His hands moved up her arms, resting on her shoulders. He didn't push her away.
"You want to use me to hurt her," he said.
"It's a win-win."
His thumb grazed her jawline. It was a shocking, electric touch. "If you get me the ledger proving the debt, I'll help you with the Trust."
"Deal," Ashton breathed. "But I need a down payment."
"Name it."
"Get me out of here safely. And keep Carter away."
"Done."
The emergency lights flickered on, bathing the room in a sickly orange glow. Isadore stepped back instantly, his face a mask of indifference.
He took off his tuxedo jacket and handed it to her. "Put this on. Cover that dress."
Ashton slipped into the jacket. It was warm. It engulfed her.
He led her out the service exit to the garage. Sloan's car was waiting.
"Email the ledger by morning," Isadore said, opening the car door for her.
"Pleasure doing business, Mr. Grimes."
Ashton climbed in. As they drove away, she pulled the jacket tighter.
"Oh my god," Sloan squealed. "Is that his jacket?"
Ashton smiled, burying her nose in the collar. "This is just the beginning."
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