Ashton Scott Read online

  Ashton Scott

  Nina Levine

  Ashton Scott

  It was a bad start to my week.

  Or shall I say, he was a bad start to my week.

  Ashton Scott.

  Presumptuous, arrogant asshole.

  He barrelled into my office and demanded I sell him my property.

  I said no. Never.

  He said everything is for sale.

  He also said he always gets what he wants.

  Well, Ashton Scott can kiss my ass. He’s not getting this.

  There's one problem with that.

  The man just doesn’t give up. And now he’s decided he wants me, too.

  He’s sexy AF.

  He wears a suit like nobody’s business.

  And his bossiness turns me on in ways I can’t even understand.

  But I’m not going down without a fight.

  Or at least, I wasn't...

  My fight is what Ashton loves the most.

  Of course it is.

  Send wine.

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  For my #AssholeMonday lovers

  You’ll never know what your support meant to me while I wrote this book, episode by episode.

  Thank you.

  N xx

  Contents

  1. Lorelei

  2. Ashton

  3. Lorelei

  4. Ashton

  5. Lorelei

  6. Ashton

  7. Lorelei

  8. Ashton

  9. Lorelei

  10. Ashton

  11. Lorelei

  12. Ashton

  13. Lorelei

  14. Ashton

  15. Lorelei

  16. Ashton

  17. Lorelei

  18. Ashton

  19. Lorelei

  20. Ashton

  21. Lorelei

  22. Ashton

  23. Lorelei

  24. Ashton

  25. Lorelei

  26. Ashton

  27. Lorelei

  28. Ashton

  29. Lorelei

  30. Ashton

  31. Lorelei

  32. Ashton

  33. Lorelei

  34. Ashton

  35. Lorelei

  36. Ashton

  37. Lorelei

  38. Ashton

  39. Lorelei

  40. Ashton

  41. Lorelei

  42. Ashton

  43. Lorelei

  44. Ashton

  45. Ashton

  46. Lorelei

  47. Ashton

  48. Lorelei

  49. Ashton

  50. Lorelei

  51. Ashton

  52. Lorelei

  53. Ashton

  54. Ashton

  55. Lorelei

  56. Lorelei

  57. Ashton

  58. Ashton

  59. Lorelei

  60. Ashton

  61. Ashton

  62. Lorelei

  63. Ashton

  64. Ashton

  65. Lorelei

  Epilogue

  Steal My Breath Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Also by Nina Levine

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Lorelei

  There aren’t many moments I’ve regretted in my life, but this one would have to rank high on that short list. Doing the walk of shame through one of the most exclusive hotels in Sydney is not something I ever thought I’d do, but yet, here I am doing exactly that. I blame Rodney Stein. If he had just turned up to his own damn wedding yesterday and married his fiancé—my friend—none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have insisted on getting drunk last night, and I wouldn’t have had to match her drink for drink. And I wouldn’t have come back to this hotel with the guy I met and made a fool of myself.

  Oh, God.

  My head hurts.

  Yeah, well a lot more is going to hurt if you don’t get your ass home and then to your office in the next forty minutes.

  I pick up my pace in an effort to achieve my goal. At the same time, my phone rings and I rummage in my bag for it.

  Please God, don’t let anyone I know see me this morning.

  “Lorelei, where are you?” It’s my best friend, Sienna, and the urgency I hear in her voice concerns me. She never takes that tone with me. Sienna is one of the most laid-back people I know.

  “I’m on my way home and then to the office. What’s up?” I keep my eyes down, focused on the marble floor while doing my best to avoid anyone’s gaze.

  There’s a long pause where neither of us speak. When she finally replies, the urgency has given way to confusion. “Wait, did you hook up with that guy last night?”

  I sigh. Admitting what I did is the last thing I want to do. “No… but I did go back to his hotel room. I’ll fill you in later.”

  “Who are you and what did you do with Lorelei Winters?”

  “I know… I know. Stupid.”

  “No, it’s not stupid, but it’s not you. You don’t do sex with strangers.”

  As she speaks, I push through the front doors of the hotel—finally—and step outside into the warm sunshine. It’s only eight in the morning, so this weather is unseasonably warm for a winter day in Sydney. The early morning hustle and bustle of Sydney fill my senses, and I breathe it in. I love everything about this city, even the cranky cab drivers who honk at anyone who dares get in their way and the people who shove past you in their hurry to get to work.

  “Sienna, can we go over this later when my head isn’t throbbing, and I’m not madly trying to get home so I can take a shower and get to the office before my appointment?”

  “Oh, shit! That’s what I’m calling for. Your appointment has been changed. The guy will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Today is going to be a bad day.

  It can’t be any worse than last night.

  “Wanna make a bet,” I mutter to myself as I bend my head so I can balance my phone between my cheek and my shoulder. I then fumble in my bag to make sure I have supplies on hand to fix my face now.

  “Huh?” Sienna asks on the other end of the phone.

  “Ignore me. I’m talking to myself,” I say as I find my make-up bag. Thank goodness I always travel prepared.

  “How far away are you?” Sienna asks.

  “I’m close, but this traffic is a bitch by the looks of it. Can you stall him if I’m running late?”

  “Sure. I’ll sell him some financial services.”

  I laugh at her while hailing a cab. Sienna is a financial adviser and can sell anything to anyone. I don’t doubt the guy will have hired her before he leaves our office.

  “Thanks, babe. Gotta go.” I hang up and give the cab driver directions before sinking into the back seat. This day is just beginning, but I’m ready for it to be over. I can cope with most things, but hangovers are not one of them. Drinking is something I usually avoid for this very reason. I haven’t felt this ill in three years—not since the killer hangover I ended up with from my twenty-fifth birthday celebrations that Sienna organised. A girls’ weekend away at a winery in the Hunter Valley with ten of your closest friends will do it to you every time.

  I attempt to make myself presentable for my appointment. Five minutes later, I’ve removed the mess of yesterday’s make-up from my face and have applied new foundation, all the while cursing Rodney Stein. Who has a Sunday wedding, anyway? He was the one who pushed for that day and then he didn’t even have the hide to show up. Sarah had been devastated. Naturally. Six years of her l
ife with that man, gone.

  “And to not have the fucking balls to tell her in person…,” I mutter as I apply eye shadow.

  “Did you say something, ma’am?”

  My head jerks up at the cab driver’s question and I make eye contact in his rear-view mirror. “Sorry, talking to myself,” I reply before looking back down at my compact.

  Not bad.

  My make-up skills have come in handy. I may be able to pull this off.

  Except for the dress you’re wearing that screams, ‘I spent last night in a hotel with a guy I just met’.

  I smooth the red satin material of the dress I’m wearing—the dress that shows just a little too much cleavage for a business meeting. I would have preferred to meet Ashton Scott looking anything but a woman who has just completed her first walk of shame. The guy is a legend in the business world and I want to make a good impression. The day his assistant phoned asking if I’d see him to discuss something that would benefit both of us, I jumped at the chance.

  I’m going to kill Rodney Stein if I ever see him again.

  The cab jerks to a halt and the red lipstick I’m applying ends up all over my cheek.

  Worst. Morning. Ever.

  Fuck you, Rodney Stein.

  * * *

  “Lorelei!” Sienna stands as I enter our shared office. Her brown eyes widen in the way they do when she’s pissed off but doesn’t want to show it. “I’ll leave you and Ashton to it,” she says. As she brushes past me, she mutters, “Good luck with that arrogant asshole. I’ll bring you back a toasted caramel macchiato. You’re going to need it.”

  She breezes out of the room and I turn to find Ashton Scott watching me from where he’s standing near the window.

  Sweet baby Jesus, the man is something else. Dark hair, chiselled jaw, tanned skin and fit—he’s the kind of man pretty much any woman I know would kill to have in her bed. The thing that’s getting my panties in a twist? The way he’s wearing his five o’clock shadow first thing in the morning. Not to mention the way he’s teamed jeans with a black dress shirt and black jacket. It’s like a ‘fuck you’ to the business world he inhabits—a fuck you that I like.

  His gaze travels the length of me, resting for a moment on my cleavage, before finding my eyes again. A bolt of heat hits me and I swallow hard.

  Switch your damn brain on, Lorelei.

  I want to impress him with my business savvy. Lust has no place here.

  I move to where he’s standing and extend my hand. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Scott. I’m Lorelei Winters.”

  Really?

  He knows who you are. He came to you, remember?

  He shakes my hand. “Lorelei.”

  No smile.

  No pleasantries.

  Just one word.

  But hot damn if that one word didn’t slide through his lips like sugar. His voice is a God-given gift; one I’m sure could cause a woman an unhealthy addiction.

  My brain misfires and I hold his hand longer than I intended. It’s not until he finally lets my hand go that I realise this.

  “Sorry!” I say in more of a shriek than my preferred business voice. “Would you like a tea or coffee?” I am so damn flustered that I have no clue what might come out of my mouth next.

  The corner of his mouth twitches. “No, thank you.” He takes charge of the meeting—because clearly I’m in no shape to do this—and indicates for me to take a seat.

  The office I share with Sienna is a room we’ve rented off a friend on his company premises. It’s a modern space rather than a traditional business office. We have one large round glass table that we both work at in the centre of the room. There is usually a large vase of flowers in the middle of the table, but being Monday, neither of us has filled the vase yet. Cream paint on the walls is covered by a selection of art prints we love, including a large canvas I painted with some of our favourite inspirational quotes. A floor-to-ceiling window takes up one wall and we’ve hung a sheer, pale pink curtain that allows light to filter through.

  Ashton takes the seat right next to me. His leg brushes against mine as he leans forward to speak.

  Damn you, round table.

  I should never have convinced Sienna to get this table.

  “I heard you were selling the building you own,” he says. “I’ve come to make you an offer.”

  My business senses finally kick in. “Which one?” I only own one building, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  He quirks a brow. “The one on Willow Street.”

  He totally knows I’m lying. But he’s humouring me. I’m not sure which is worse.

  “No, it isn’t for sale.” My grandmother would roll over in her grave if I sold the building she left me when she died.

  His lips pinch together. “I’ve heard it is.”

  How strange. I wouldn’t have thought the building he’s referring to would even be on his radar. Ashton is a property developer who deals in high-end properties from what I understand. My building doesn’t fit into that category at all. And it’s definitely not for sale.

  “I think perhaps whoever told you that has mixed up the information. There are three shops in my building and one has just come up for lease, but the building isn’t for sale.”

  “The person who told me never mixes up their information, Lorelei.” The sugar disappears from his voice and it’s clear I’ve said something he doesn’t like.

  I straighten in my seat, slightly annoyed at the tone he’s taking with me. “I’m not sure who you’ve been getting your news from, but I can assure you it’s wrong.” I remove the friendliness from my voice to match his.

  His gaze remains steady on me and it’s only because I’m watching him so closely that I see the tiny flare of his eyes. He seems shocked, but I’m not sure at what. That his information is wrong? Or, that I had the gall to tell him that? I bet Ashton Scott is used to always having the right information.

  “Lorelei, I’m not a man to be screwed with. If you’re trying to play me to get more money out of this deal from the other party, I’ll make you regret that.”

  Whoa.

  My hangover collides with the anger bubbling up at his threat. Standing, I say, “You can leave now. I don’t appreciate you asking for a meeting and then coming here and threatening me. I’m not a woman who lies about anything. You want to know something from me? Straight up ask me and I’ll give you an honest answer. When I tell you that my building is not for sale, you can be assured that it’s not for sale. And I don’t respond well to intimidation. You can take your threat and go back to whoever fed you this bullshit and tell them to get their facts straight. And I would suggest hiring more capable staff.”

  My pulse beats hard and fast as I catch my breath.

  How dare he come here and insinuate I’m a money-grabber? Or, that I would lie?

  He stands, his gaze still pinned to mine. His jaw clenches as he stares at me with infuriation. “This isn’t the end of this. I want that building and I always get what I want.”

  No more words are exchanged before he stalks out of my office.

  I take a few moments to get myself together. Angry thoughts explode through my mind and I struggle to think straight.

  The absolute nerve of that man.

  Ashton Scott can kiss my ass.

  2

  Ashton

  “Jessica!” My voice ricochets around my office, intensifying the headache taking hold of my head as I call out for my assistant. The meeting with Lorelei Winters I’ve just returned from has completely fucked with my mind.

  “I see Asshole Monday has returned,” she says as she steps into my office.

  Scowling, I reach into the top drawer of my desk and yank out a box of Advil. “What the hell is Asshole Monday?”

  Passing me the glass of water she’s holding, she says, “You’re welcome.”

  Jessica can read my mind. It’s the reason she’s worked for me for five years. I down the pills before demanding, “Are you going to enligh
ten me?”

  She sighs as she takes the empty glass from me. “You had a bad weekend, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  She places a hand on her hip. At just over five feet, she’s tiny compared to my six foot two, and yet she’s fierce when she wants to be. I know she’s about to have her say by the way she flicks her dark hair—it’s a mannerism of hers that indicates her annoyance with me. “Ashton, you’ve just barrelled your way in here with that shitty look on your face, barking at everyone along the way and generally being an asshole. It’s become a common occurrence around here over the last few months, but then you went back to being nice Ashton and we had some peace.” She spreads her hands out in front of her and adds, “Like I said, Asshole Monday has returned. And the fact it always happens on a Monday makes me think you must have had a shitty weekend.”

  There are only three people in my life who get away with speaking to me this way—Jessica, my sister, Alessandra and my friend, Jack Kingsley.

  “For the record, I did not have a bad weekend. But I will tell you what has been bad about my day so far—Lorelei Winters.”