Page 96 of Twisted Truth

“Of course. But it’s clear to me that even within our company, the attention she’s getting can be a liability. She’s not safe on that floor, and since I have to move her up here, I have to move her whole team.”

“Good, good. I’m sorry that happened, Ella. But I’m glad you and your team will be up here with us. It will be nice to have some new energy around here. Janet tends to suck the joy out of the floor.”

“Yes, yes, how we royals enjoy the verve and energy of the commoners! A most exhilarating diversion!” Declan says in his fancy accent again.

“You’re an idiot,” Harrington snorts at Declan.

“You mean jester.”

“Lunch will be here in five!” Matthew calls from down the hall.

“Ah yes! Asher’s most loyal squire has procured us sustenance! Do come, Duchess Ella, let us prepare to feast!”

“Are you sure he is your child?” Asher asks Harrington as we walk behind an exuberant Declan toward Asher’s office.

“If he didn’t look like a perfect mix of your mother and me, I would have his paternity tested.”

Asher shakes his head, smiling despite himself at his brother’s antics.

We eat in Asher’s office with him and me seated next to each other behind his desk, Matthew and Declan on the other side of the desk, and Harrington seated on the sofa, using thecoffee table. The food is delicious, and the conversation is happy and warm, and, for a moment, work and business and the drama of this morning are all forgotten.

As I watch the men around me, I don’t see the formidable Langford men, the Lions of New York. I see a family. And for one moment, I realize that whoever gets to be a part of this family will be a very lucky person. Not because of the money and status, but because of this. A simple family eating a simple lunch. Okay, probably a stupidly expensive and criminally delicious lunch, but still.

I frantically try to reel in the warmth in my chest. Because between the ring on my finger and this, I’m in real danger of feeling too much and falling too far. And Asher’s been clear from the start: this is not real.

I need to remember that.

28

ELLA

“Oh my god, don’t you love the ladies’ room?” Daphne asks me as she sets a plant down on her desk the next morning. “It’s amazing. I’ll never be able to pee down on the PR floor again.”

“Yes, it’s unreal. Poor Janet is not going to be happy about sharing it with more women.” The thought makes my petty side smile. While I love the idea of women in the boardroom, the Langford board really struck out with their choice of Janet. But Celeste, Asher’s cousin, seems decent.

“I can’t get over the view!” Heather gushes, staring out the wall of windows overlooking the city. “I hope this assignment lasts at least a year. I want to work up on this floor for as long as possible.”

I’m dizzy at the thought. I know the timeline is murky, and the board wants to milk as much good press out of this situation as possible, but it’s only been a week, and it’s already overwhelming. Asher’s world has completely consumed and eclipsed my own. I signed up for it, but damn, it’s still a lot.

One of the receptionists knocks and enters the room, carrying an oversized canvas bag, bursting at the seams.

“This is all mail for you, Ella,” she says, setting the bag down on my desk.

“Whoa. From whom?”

She shrugs. “Fan mail, I think?”

I open the bag and sift through the letters. Who still sends fan mail? This is crazy. I open one letter. It’s written by a woman named Susan who has beautiful penmanship. She compliments me mostly, but reminds me not to be a hussy—a great man like Asher Langford can’t have a hussy for a wife.

Noted.

Thanks for that, Susan.

The team gathers around me, and we all start opening the letters, curious. They range from children to the elderly, men and women, and their topics vary just as wildly. The ones from kids mostly have questions they want to know about me. Which, incidentally, kind of weirds me out. I have no idea why kids would be interested in me, but then Asher is kind of like American royalty, so I guess some children know who he is. It’s a bit of a trip.

“Shit,” Michael says. “This isn’t good.”

“What is it?” Emily asks.