“She is,” I say, beaming. Because it’s the truth.
My mother hooks her arm through Emma’s, leading her away. “Come and meet the others, dear.”
So far so good, but the night’s still young.
Chapter Sixteen
EMMA
To Ashton’s noticeable frustration, his mother has been keeping me all to herself since we arrived, giving Willow ample time to fawn all over him. That woman has no shame. She’s tall, thin, and blonde. Extremely beautiful, in that fake kind of way. I’m not a fan. She seems to be more like Ashton’s type, over me, that is. She’s been giving me death stares every available chance she gets. Bitch. She better be careful I don’t trip during dinner and accidentally, on purpose, deflate those ridiculously huge sausage lips with my fork.
Botox to the extreme.
I’m not usually vindictive, but I have to suppress my giggle when an image of her airborne and pinging off the walls as she zooms around like a balloon does when it deflates.
I’m yet to get the chance to reprimand Ashton for referring to me as his girlfriend, but rest assured my time will come. I don’t like being used as a scapegoat. I should’ve called him out on his lie straight away, but I didn’t have the heart to.
Apart from the obvious—being Willow—the evening isn’t as bad as I anticipated. I like Valentina, though Forbes, Ashton’s father, doesn’t appear to be as friendly as his mother. He’s not rude, but there is an arrogance about him.
Valentina is stunning and looks too young to have a thirty-year-old son. She has an exotic appearance reminding me of Sophia Loren. Ashton has inherited her dark features but gets his piercing blue eyes from his father.
“Charles,” Valentina call outs, in her very posh, yet friendly voice. He steps out onto the patio seconds later. “Could you let the kitchen know we’re ready for dinner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The kitchen?
I’m not sure how many staff they have, but I’ve spotted three so far, and that’s not including Charles.
“Come, let’s head to the formal dining area.” Valentina threads her arm through mine as we walk back into the house. “I hope you like French cuisine, dear. We recently poached Manu, the head chef from Atelier Crenn. Have you ever eaten there?”
“No, I haven’t,” I say politely. I haven’t even heard of it, to be honest.
“Oh… the restaurant has three Michelin stars. Forbes and I dine there whenever we’re in San Francisco. You’re in for a real treat. Manu’s food is exquisite… he’s not bad on the eye either, just quietly.”
I release a small laugh. I’ve never eaten French food before or been to San Francisco. Please, God, don’t let Manu serve us snails. Eww. I’ll surely die if he does. I’m a guest, so I have to eat whatever they serve me, right? It would be rude not to. My stomach churns at the thought.
“Do you have a bathroom nearby where I can freshen up?” I ask.
“Of course, dear,” Valentina answers, pointing to her left. “One of the guest bathrooms is down the end of the hall… last door on the right.”
“Thank you.” She releases my arm, and my eyes briefly lock with Ashton’s before I turn and head in that direction.
I only make it a few steps before he grabs me.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m just going to the bathroom.”
“Do you need a hand with that?” He raises an eyebrow suggestively.
“No,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.
He chuckles as I continue on my way.
I gasp the moment I enter. The size of the room is twice that of my apartment. The floors, walls, and countertops are white marble, and a large chandelier sits above a round porcelain bath in the center of the room surrounded by four pillars. I run my finger around the edge of the gold trim as I pass. It’s been so long since I’ve soaked in a tub. I miss it. My small bathroom only has a shower.
On either side, a pair of gold and leather benches sit before an expansive recessed vanity countertop with candelabra wall lamps. Wow, just wow. I knew Ashton was well off, he reeks of money, but this place simply blows my mind. If this is the kind of thing he’s used to, I can see why he thinks my place is a dump.
Despite what he said to me in the car, we are worlds apart. I don’t, and will never fit into this kind of lifestyle. His lifestyle. I’m a simple farm girl and always will be.
I pull out my phone, shooting Carla a quick text.
Emma: He brought me to his parents’ house for dinner!!!! Can you believe it? And it’s like a damn castle.
Carla: Get the fuck out of here. No way.
Emma: Yes way.
Carla: Grayson was right, he’s got it bad for you.
Emma: No, he doesn’t. He’s using me, Car. He admitted it on the drive over.
Carla: What! How?
Emma: He brought me here as a ruse because his mother is trying to set him up with some plastic, stuck-up bitch named Willow. Gah! I’m so mad at him right now. He even told them I’m his girlfriend. Like what the fudge???
Carla: Oh babe. That sucks. Do you want me to come and get you?
Emma: No, but thanks for the offer.
Carla: Call me when you get home. If you need me to kick him in the nuts for you just let me know. I’m not afraid to use my ninja skills on him. And that plastic bitch? She better watch her back too.
Her reply makes me giggle, Carla and her crazy ninja skills.
After washing up, I advance into the hallway. I could easily get lost in this house it’s so big.
I’m startled when someone steps out of the shadows.
Willow.
Ignoring her, I keep walking down the long hall, but she reaches for me grabbing my arm. “You have some nerve coming here tonight.”
“Excuse me?” I tug my arm out of her grip before swinging around to face her.
“You heard me, bitch. Look at you, you’re pathetic,” she says, and the disgust on her face as she eyes me from head to toe makes my body shake with anger. “You don’t belong here.”
She’s right, I don’t.
Willow takes a step forward, getting right up in my face. “You’re a cheap, two-bit whore, so why don’t you run back to whatever rock you crawled out from. You’re not wanted or welcome here. You’re not even Ashton’s type.”
“Willow!” I hear Ashton bellow.
I glance over my shoulder to see him storming toward us.
Her face pails. “Ashton… I, umm… was just making sure Emma knew her way back to the dining room.”
“I heard what you said to her. Emma does belong here, more so than you. And, she is exactly my type…” he swipes his fingers through his hair, “… she’s more woman than you’ll ever be.”
“Ashton,” she gasps, placing her hand on her chest. His harsh words cause tears to rise in her eye. I’ve never seen him this angry before.
Willow reaches for his arm, but he shrugs her away. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry, Ashton.”