CHAPTER 250: CHAPTER 251 ASHTON: UNSAID THINGS

Something was off.

I knew it the moment I walked in.

Mira wasn’t curled up on the sofa bingeing dramas or tucked in bed with her phone.

She was sitting at her desk, back to me, staring at her computer.

But the real giveaway was, she didn’t kiss me when I came through the door. That had become our thing since the engagement.

I bent down for a kiss.

She turned her face away.

‘You smell like wine. Go shower, brush your teeth, get ready for bed. It’s late.’

‘I had a couple of drinks,’ I admitted.

She made a vague sound that meant absolutely nothing.

Even after I came out of the bathroom—freshly scrubbed, de-wined, and slightly hopeful—she was still at her desk.

‘Aren’t you coming to bed? It’s nearly eleven.’ I glanced at the screen. Not jewellery design software, just lines of numbers. ‘You’re reading financial reports now?’

She finally turned to face me. ‘About that... I’ve got a favour to ask.’

‘Sure. And stop calling it a favour. You know I’d do anything for you. We’re married.’

‘Are we, though?’

‘What?’ I pulled back.

Something was definitely wrong.

‘Are we really married? I mean, in the eyes of the public?’

‘The announcement went out weeks ago. Don’t make me dig out the certificates.’ I studied her face.

She was blinking too fast, biting her lower lip—she always did that when she was stressed or unsure.

Right. Cold feet. Or at the very least, a late-onset case of pre-wedding jitters.

‘To our friends and families—okay, maybe not the family part—but to our friends, it doesn’t feel real. Even Yvaine keeps pestering me to confirm her as maid of honour.’ Mira gave a tired smile. ‘She wants it in writing. As if I’d pick anyone else.’

I nearly said, ‘Maybe it’s because she thinks you’re not taking the wedding seriously,’ but thought better of it. That’d only make things worse.

So I kept my mouth shut.

‘Anyway, I got asked out today.’ Her smile turned sheepish.

‘You’re wearing a ring,’ I said, instantly on guard. ‘Was it Fabrizio? Wouldn’t put it past a Frenchman.’

‘Not him. Someone else at the company. He didn’t know—I’d taken the ring off because I was using the laser cutter.’

The ring was back on her finger now. That soothed me. A little.

I liked that she told me things like this. It meant she trusted me.

But the darker part of me—the part that hadn’t unlearned jealousy—was unsettled.

She didn’t even flinch when she told me. Either she knew I wouldn’t be upset, or she knew I would, and didn’t care.

Neither option sat well.

‘Anyway, that was my day. How about you? Anyone hit on you?’ she asked, tone light. She looked up at me, backlit by the streetlamp outside the window, lashes shadowing her eyes. Hard to read her.

My mind jumped to dinner, to Lea’s tears.

She’d been part of the founding team when I started up in Wessexia, but we hadn’t met in person for years, despite her now being CEO of Titanova.

All our meetings since had been video calls—formal, clipped, distant.

I knew it was her way of telling me she was still pissed.

She thought I’d bailed on the company, leaving her and the gang to carry it alone while I faded into a background shareholder role.

I got it. She wasn’t the only one who felt that way, just the most vocal.

So I kept my distance.

Still, it stung when she didn’t invite me to her wedding.

Over time, we’d let the silence stretch. Updates about each other came second-hand, via Olivier or Kylian.

The occasional holiday card. That was it.

Which made it all the more shocking when she confided in me over dinner—told me what her husband had done.

Mira was still watching me. Her bare face made her look younger than twenty-four. Like a uni student still figuring life out.

She was waiting for an answer.

Lea’s name reached the back of my throat. But I didn’t say it.

Would it help Lea to hear about someone else’s experience? Hers and Mira’s weren’t the same, though.

I knew Mira had ended things with Rhys after he slapped her. Just once—but once was enough. She’d told me everything. Her stance on domestic violence was zero tolerance. I agreed.

But Lea? She was still with Pierre Marchand, even after telling me all the shit he’d pulled—hitting her when drunk or angry, stalking her when he thought she was cheating.

I told her—no, demanded—that she divorce him. Right then and there.

But Lea, usually so sharp, so decisive, hesitated.

She still loved him, she said. And after every incident, he’d cry, beg, swear it’d never happen again.

I’d wanted to shake her. How could someone so smart fall for that? Believe a man like that would change?

‘No. No one hit on me,’ I finally said.

Lea was a friend in need. Not a woman trying to get in my bed.

‘Oh,’ Mira said. Then turned back to her screen.

‘How was your tour?’ I asked.

‘It was fine. We walked around the town, had dinner at a place with a live fish tank. I saw the biggest crab of my life. You?’

‘Dinner with some old friends.’

‘You inviting them to the wedding?’

‘Who?’ I was still stuck in my thoughts.

‘Your old friends. I’d like to meet some of them.’

‘You will.’ At the wedding. Probably. ‘They’ve got the invites.’

I stood behind her, watching her work. Still thinking about Lea.

Should I bring it up? Maybe Mira would understand Lea’s rationale better, being a woman. But... would it reopen old wounds? Mentioning Rhys never sat right, even now.

‘Need help with that?’ I asked.

Mira hated numbers. Anything beyond a quadratic equation made her head ache.

‘No, I’m fine. This is kind of confidential anyway,’ she said, not looking up.

‘Aren’t you coming to bed? It’s late.’

‘I’ll work a bit more. You go ahead.’

I waited. Stayed up.

Eventually, she shut down the computer and climbed into bed.

I pulled her into my arms, kissed her forehead, then her cheek.

When my hand slipped to her pyjama buttons, she rolled away.

‘I’m tired. Not tonight.’