Page 157 of Twisted Truth

I snort and walk toward his—no,our—bedroom with a little spring in my step. I hate how much I love the sound of that.

As we pass through the living room, there’s a massive, and I mean massive, bouquet of flowers on the coffee table with a big fancy card next to it.

“What’s that?” I ask aloud.

Asher walks to the table, picks up the card, and opens it. His eyes narrow, and his lips thin.

“That slimy fucker,” he hisses.

“What is it? Who’s it from?”

“It’s for you,” he says, an edge in his voice. “From the Vericom CEO, Blake Covington.” He holds out the card for me. I take it and read.

Dear Ella,

I wantedto send my sincerest thank you for your presence at our launch. You lit up the room and created an energy we’ve never had at any of our launches before. Our sales have been record-breaking, and I know a lot of that is because of you. Your beauty, grace, and intelligence is not something that can be denied, and our customers were elated to see you wearing one of our watches.

I’ve sent more of our jewelry line watchbands for you as a thank you from the company, as well as a personal thank you from me. I do hope we can continue to work with one another in the future, as I think a partnership between the two of us could be extremely beneficial to us both. I look forward to hearing from you and working with you.

Deepest admirations,

Blake Covington

I setthe card down and look at the white box sitting next to the mammoth flower arrangement. I open the lid, and a variety of silver and gold jewelry-like watchbands, as well as a smaller jewelry box, glimmer at me. I take out the small box and open it. A diamond tennis bracelet sits inside. Holy shit. This thingmust cost a fortune. I lift the bracelet and notice it has a small silver circle pendant where the clasp meets. The pendant is engraved on one side.

Deepest Admirations,BC

I setthe bracelet back down in the smaller box, and set that back inside the larger one. I turn to look at Asher. He’s seething.

“Did anything happen between the two of you?” he asks in a dangerous whisper.

“No, of course not. What you see in the photos is exactly what happened. He saw me at the launch, pulled me up to the front, and staged his own little photo op while he put the watch on my wrist. Then I stood next to him and posed for some photos. I didn’t think I could say no with a room full of press watching and listening to everything.”

Asher puts the lid on the white box and scoots it away from me. “Let me be clear, Ella, you’re not keeping these watch bands. And you’re not keeping that fucking bracelet.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. It feels like a little much for a simple thank you.”

“Good. Because no other men will be sending you jewelry. You will not wear something with another man’s initials carved into it. OnlyIcan drape you in jewelry. And it will bemyinitials that you wear on your body. Understood?”

I shiver at his tone. Because it’s both frigid and full of fire at the same time. And the baser side of me, much as I hate to admit it, loves his possessive side.

“I didn’t hear an answer, Ella.”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

But his eyes and his body language look anything besides “good.” He grabs me by the hand and pulls me roughly after him into his—our—bedroom. He shuts the door and locks it, then stalks toward me.

“Stand over there,” he demands, pointing at the massive mirror in the corner of his bedroom. “And take off your shoes. I’ll be right back.”

I raise my brows in question, but he says nothing else as he storms toward his closet. Curiosity gets the better of me, and though I know I should probably push back against his possessive, aggressive ways, I don’t. I do as he says. I stand in front of the mirror, shoes off, my mind running in a thousand ways.What is he up to?As I wait, I try to look anywhere but at the mirror because I feel like a bit of a mess after traveling. My clothes are comfortable for travel, a fitted t-shirt and leggings, but my hair and makeup are tired and worn from sleeping on the plane.

Asher returns a moment later with six large, various shaped boxes. Like old fashioned hat boxes, but I’m not quite sure. He sets them on the small table, then pulls the table toward me until it’s right beside me. He takes the lid off the first box and pulls out seven smaller jewelry boxes.

What is he doing?

He comes to stand behind me, and I stare at our reflection in the mirror. He lifts his hand to my ponytail and pulls the elastic from it. My hair falls in a heap around my shoulders and down to my ribs. I run my hands through it to tame it slightly.