It turned out that a sitz bath was what it sounded like. Nothing special, just two or three inches of hot water. Ash wasn’t sure why this sort of bath was more effective than a full one, except that the parts of her that weren’t reddened were chilly.
Opting for comfort badly needed, she filled up the tub the rest of the way, knowing that ice was probably better than heat but not caring a good goddamn.
Baths were her refuge, and she couldn’t understand shower people. Quick showers in the morning to get clean were understandable. But in the evening, to unwind, nothing beat a bath.
She took a sip of the wine she’d made Lee stop for, along with prescriptions and first-aid supplies, on the way back from the hospital. Ash tried not to think of the road ahead. She wondered if the negotiations had started or were already over.
Closing her eyes, she saw Lee’s face. The look of concern he’d given her when he saw her damaged skin. Now the skin was less angry, and she’d slathered on all sorts of products from her pharmacological spa day. Poking and prodding her, they’d given her a plethora of pills combined with pitying and dirty looks. The dirty looks were because she was bypassing the legal system and they knew it. By morning, with a little green makeup to disguise the red, it should be barely noticeable. Except for the stitches. The blood black stitches would not cover well.
Surprisingly, there had been other stitches, too. A gash on her ribs, ten stitches. The side of her thigh, fifteen.
Ash realized she was fantasizing about Lee. Not in the old way, not in the way she used to dream about men. Even before what had happened tonight, she’d endured too much to think of sex in a recreational sort of way. She’d rather not think of it at all.
His emotions were a blank slate to her, either well-guarded or something else altogether. Ash couldn’t figure those walls out. Maybe if she had time, if she were calmer, saner. But after this was over, she’d never see him again.
Not sensing his emotions when she didn’t have any ulterior motive though? It actually felt restful, as you would standing on a still night. She couldn’t sense her family’s either, but this wasn’t like being with her family. It was a different type of quiet.
Her family. Soon to be a modified version. She hadn’t asked Ling yet, but it didn’t matter.
They would still be her family, she’d still accept them as such. But she would no longer allow them to scrap and scrabble over every part of her, to subvert her until she had no agenda of her own.
She’d do this for her family because they needed her. But the relationship was going to change. She needed to distance herself for a while. Three months, six months, a year, forever—she didn’t know.
With Ling’s baby on the way, she couldn’t avoid them, but she’d do her best. And she’d ask Ling, ask her if...
In a way, tonight had freed her. She was royally mind-screwed, but freed.
If Lee got enough money.
Even though she couldn’t sense his emotions, she knew there was a connection between them. A potential between them. It had never had a chance though. Woulda, coulda and shoulda never got anyone anywhere.
Ash knew that she hadn’t faced what had happened to her, and by bathing she was psychologically distancing herself from it. She felt dirtier now than she had after the assault. And she’d felt grimy then. Now she just felt disgustingly rancid.
The nurses had told her to keep the bandages on and not to get them or the stitches wet, but she needed to soak. If not get clean, at least get a layer of the dirty off.
She’d taken off the bandages. She’d stocked up on replacements, and had become pretty skilled at applying them of late. And then she’d showered for about half an hour. And now she was soaking. She’d fried at least one layer of skin from the boiling-hot bath.
Topping up the bath in the darkened bathroom, she sipped her third glass of wine, watching the glass catch a few whispers of light. Bath re-warmed, she sank into its warm hug.
Couldn’t get the nonsensical wish that Lee was hugging her and protecting her.
Stupid brain. Stupid, stupid girly brain.
#
When she woke up the next morning, although she had been assaulted, she didn’t feel like the made-for-TV-movie rape victim. Of course, those women were blameless. She coped. She went through her usual morning routine, a bit groggy from the aftereffects of drinking a bottle of wine. Nervous enough to make her powers a little twitchy, shorting in and out like brownouts on a hot summer’s day.
Lee had told her the night before that Charles would be out of the building before the morning meeting. The relief of being parted from Charles amazing. Hopefully there was an ambitious temp out there somewhere who didn’t mind being on the road who would get her job. Or possibly a starry-eyed poli-sci student who couldn’t wait to work for the campaign. And needed little training. Because Ash wasn’t sticking around after today.
Last night, when she’d started crushing on Lee like a sexless pre-teen to the point of self-embarrassment, she’d decided it must be a coping mechanism. Escaping into a fantasy that was unreachable and unrealistic.
No one had sexless relationships, especially men like Lee Hierne.
So she decided it was okay to fixate, to dream about him, rewrite history in her head and have him step in and tell her he’d protect her and take care of her. Which was strange, because Ash was more than capable of taking care of herself and had for years.
And he hadn’t. He’d protected his employer, as she’d expected he would.
She liked being independent. Not kowtowing to her family’s wishes any longer didn’t mean she wanted someone new to kowtow to.
Her dream Lee wasn’t like that, though. He’d protect her, but respect her choices.
Obviously she’d read too many romances in her time. Men weren’t really like that.
The welts had lightened up overnight, but the stitches made her look like an emo. A bruised emo.
It’d have to be good enough. Today she had decided to desex herself as much as possible. Start becoming the Ash she knew, not the PA. Hard to do from the wardrobe she’d built for this scheme, but she was in trousers and flats with a long-sleeved shirt, a brooch at the top of her collar covering up part of the weal on her neck. A retro-eighties chic look without the backcombed hair. She braided her hair loosely, because if she put it in a bun or braided it tightly it would give her a sexy librarian look that she didn’t want.
Looking in the mirror, she realized that her stitches screamed, Look at me! With a sigh, she put her hair down and parted her hair on the opposite side so it swooped over her eye.
She toned down her makeup, and that was about as much as she could do with the resources she had.
Thankfully her last day on the Appleby campaign was an office move day. So after the morning briefing, they’d all drive to the new location, which was over an hour away. Move days meant many meetings for the candidate.
It wouldn’t look suspect if she didn’t see him. And people would assume that their affair had gone sour and that was why she was no longer on staff.
Since the offices had been packed up, it was bring-your-own-morning-beverage. She thought about the other bottle of wine covetously, but for a woman who’d been conning people all her life, she was incredibly uptight. Drinking at work? Tempting, but not an option, even now.
She made a cup of lukewarm tea through the coffee maker, putting teabags in the basket and in the mug to obliterate the coffee flavor. Cream and lots of sugar, comfort in a to-go mug.
Arriving at the morning meeting minutes before it began, she leaned against one of the few parts of the wall still clear, trying to find a part of her back that wasn’t tender. Jensen had reserved her a spot. Well, at least that part of the plan was working. Not that she needed it any more. She smiled and thanked him.
She kept her head high, although she wanted to examine the wicking in the carpet.
Skimming the room, she saw Lee languorously leaning against the counter of what was the reception desk in the disused offices. Now it was piled with detritus and items that people hadn’t gotten packed last night.
Although she knew Charles wasn’t there, nor Thomas, she kept raking her eyes back and forth. A latecomer’s footsteps put her on edge.
Her logic was failing her. She hadn’t actually been raped. Not unexpectedly. The abuse had just been worse than any of the other times.
Was it vanity? The fact that he’d marked her face? No. The marks were the proof and they would also be a punishment.
Even though she’d set it up, she’d still been forced. She’d tried to give into it, but she’d fought it.
Ash had never had rape fantasies. Nothing sexy about that in her mind. Nothing sexy about sex at all.
The meeting started. There were the usual messages about not leaving anything, double-checking everything, etcetera, and then the maps were handed out for anyone who didn’t have GPS or access to Google Maps on their phone. No one. But Sally was the travel coordinator, and one who hadn’t totally stepped into this millennium. Good at her job, efficient and gold in a campaign—a skilled retiree who volunteered.
When Ash glanced at Lee again, he was looking back. Since she didn’t have a grasp of his emotions, she couldn’t sense when his attention was on her like it was now. Their eyes locked, his friendly and open, hers trying to match, but not managing. Which was bad, if her mask was slipping.
Maybe it was only slipping in front of him because he’d seen her in a state last night. His glance warmed and he tilted his head, enquiring. She nodded to say she was okay. She refocused her attention on Sally’s instructions on the new premises and its location. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lee leave.
Just leave. He didn’t sneak out. He casually levered off the reception desk, whispered an ‘excuse me’ or two and walked off.
Ash wanted to do the same. How many times had she wished that they could just get an email with this information the night before? She could leave early and not have to dress in business clothes. She could be herself, and put some yoga pants on and a sweatshirt on.
There wasn’t much stopping her from switching into comfy clothes today. It was dirty work to do in business clothes. It was a practical decision. And it was a small act of rebellion that she would enjoy.
#
Lee had stayed up all night. The confrontation with Charles hadn’t been pretty. Photographs, denials, vacillation. And then anger, a type of explosive anger that Lee doubted many had seen from the candidate.
It wasn’t just a small problem in the campaign. Charles was a powder-keg waiting to explode. Lee grimaced at himself for thinking about it in that way.
He’d negotiated a significant sum of money for Ash. She fascinated him still. She was pragmatic and so vulnerable. Watching her almost jumping out her skin at the morning meeting had been painful.
A part of him wanted to scoop her up and jet her away to a remote island. He supposed he could afford an island somewhere. He’d have to hock the company, cash in all future plans. It was a nice thought.
It wasn’t going to happen. He needed the cachet of government contracts to wash off his past mistakes.
Maybe then he would feel as if he’d achieved his goals, but he doubted it. There would be something more after he’d secured all the government contracts. There always was another goal to reach for, a bit farther down the road to go.
Lee had pulled some strings, gotten the thousand-dollar-an-hour Appleby family lawyer to draw up the agreement, and made some poor slave-boy drive to the wilds of Oregon and deliver it. The junior associate—red-eyed, with peach fuzz—had delivered the papers two and half hours ago, and Lee had witnessed Charles’ signature on the document.
He was now waiting for the bank draft. After the morning meeting, he’d driven from Madras to Bend. It was a small city and their next stop on the pre-campaign trail. He’d walked to the bank to work off some nervous energy, only to find out it didn’t open for another half hour. Instead of walking back, he grabbed a coffee in the shop across the street.
Charles was in meetings all morning, also now in Bend, trying to get donations. Glad-handing, charming the coffers, speaking the language of old money whilst trying to justify his progressive ideas. Appleby was good at it, too. And would make a great Governor.
As long as Lee could find a way to chop his dick off.
He’d been having violent Bobbitt-like thoughts about Charles’ member all night. He’d checked into the new hotel early and installed cameras in what was to be Appleby’s room and Ash’s also.
This was going to be her last night on the campaign trail.
He could justify to himself why he’d chosen to sell Ash out. It had made him shiver last night when Charles had echoed one of his thoughts. “Girl like that, this amount of money could change her life.” The bastard’d sounded magnanimous. And Lee hated his thoughts had mirrored that when he was reasoning it out, justifying to himself that this money would make a difference to her while a court case would just feed the salacious side of society and gain her nothing.
This morning though, he’d gotten a quiet call from Appleby. Charles had sounded sorry, like the Charles Lee had thought he was working with. And sincere. Totally different from the man Lee had talked to last night. And so Lee had wrung some more guilt money out of him.
Charles might have been sorry, but he had one prerequisite for upping the money—he wanted to apologize to Ash in person.
Lee’s first reaction on Ash’s behalf—Forget it. But before he voiced that sentiment, he owed it to Ash to ask. Another hundred thousand dollars would go a long way, and he could ensure her safety. No way in hell was she meeting Charles alone.
Lee knew his job, and he’d do it. It would help secure lucrative contracts for his company in the future, and if he didn’t, it would give him a bad name. The reasons why he didn’t do the job wouldn’t be important, only the result was important.
But he wanted to beat the everlasting shit out of Charles. And he still might. He could do the job and punch the guy too.
When they’d returned from the hospital last night she’d looked wan, slightly reminiscent of Charles’ ex-wife Anna—except on Ash’s face, it looked wrong. Covered sadness didn’t look natural on her. Women like Ash shouldn’t have to deal with those sorts of things.
He’d never felt protective of a woman before. It was a strange sensation. It made him want to step in front of her and puff out his chest in front of everyone who came near. It wasn’t jealousy, even though there might be an element of that. Lee wanted her away from Appleby.
After what she’d gone through she wouldn’t want a relationship with Lee, but maybe they could be friends.
He was bitterly amused at himself and snorted out loud. Patrons of the coffee shop gave him the “look, there’s a weirdo” glance. Friends. Women fell into two categories in his life: colleagues and fucks. Ash was neither. Again he thought about getting her a job at his company. She probably had skills yet untapped; she was bright and very good at interacting with people. But having her in the office every day would be distracting. He could have her work remotely? Talk to her on the phone, email her.
Man, he was pathetic.
The plan was to get the bank draft. Actually bank drafts, plural—the payoff and the bonus if she talked to Appleby. Then get Ash to sign. If she was meeting with Charles, Lee would facilitate. And if she stayed the night? He could have a beer in a trenchcoat and watch, keeping her safe. Making sure Appleby didn’t ever touch her again.
He’d called the private detective, on his dime this time, to follow her and ensure she got wherever she was going safely.
Now didn’t he feel like a Good Samaritan? Not on your fucking life.
One last task on the list. Find out about that erased trail on Charles’ record. After seeing Charles’ explosive temper, Lee knew Ash wasn’t Appleby’s first. He didn’t even tell himself it was for the good of the campaign. It was leverage.
#
Ash had just finished crawling on the floor, hooking up cables for the printer and portable 3G wi-fi, and the yoga pants made the job so much easier. Especially since whoever had volunteered their time to clean the office before they arrived was nowhere near to being a perfectionist. Her muscles and skin were crying at her, and the Alleve jingle was an earworm in her head. Painkillers sounded lovely right now, but Lee sounded better.
She was drawn to him. To the shelter of his wiry arms and lanky, firmly muscled body.
Were women who had been raped supposed to want to be touched? Or did that make her more of a mutant? She didn’t want him. A part of her had when they’d first met; a spark of fire had sizzled down low in her belly. And that was at a point in her life when sex was no longer on her “Yee-haw!” list.
Now, sparks were something she never wanted again.
Comfort though. God, she wanted comfort, and it was in Lee’s arms.
Shaking her head, she wished she were in Portland. She could touch Ling’s warm round belly, maybe feel the little hellion kick, and cuddle up to her sister while watching some stupid movie with the type of crass humor Ling adored. Soon. Tomorrow. A fizzle of happiness entered Ash’s bloodstream, followed by Lee and a moment of sadness. He kept popping up, invading the homey image. Bastard.
Annoyed at herself, she exited the bathroom and decided that a large chai tea latte was something she deserved. All sugar, all fat. And sugar was good for stressful situations, right?
There was a coffee shop a couple of blocks away. She walked there, taking in the spring sun and the smell of rain in the air. She made a beeline for the counter and ordered when a warm-breathed voice said, “How are you?”
She startled, her head jerking up.
“Jesus fuck!”
When she turned, she saw the embodiment of her hug thoughts clutching his nose, blood trickling through his fingers. Apparently, instead of hugging, she’d given Keithley Hierne a headbutt, what her mam called a Glasgow kiss.
“Ohmigod!” She grabbed a handful of napkins and grabbed his arm to pilot him to a chair. “Sit.” Ash applied the napkins and told him to wait while she demanded ice from the barista.
No micro-expressions. Lee’s eyes were clenched shut. A wuss when it came to pain, too. It made her want to smile. Ash applied the ice and he hissed. “Sorry,” she breathed. Crouching down, she said, “You need to lean forward, not back.” Removing the ice, she grasped the back of his neck gently to nudge it forward. His skin was warm and slightly pebbly, and her hand brushed against his dark hair, tickling the back of her hand like a sable brush.
He didn’t argue, just opened those slate-blue eyes with a question.
“They say it’s better to tilt forward, not back. I’m a first-aider.” Ash felt sort of lame saying it, considering the past two days.
He acquiesced and she stood to relieve the pressure of her weals, welts and cuts rubbing against one another. Taking advantage of the state he was in, she took over holding the ice with one hand, the other on his head, relishing the sensation of his hair, until a couple minutes later he pulled away and tested his nose.
“Sorry.”
He shrugged. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”
Their eyes connected, and the urge to cuddle up in his arms was nearly overwhelming. His eyes were concerned without a drop of pity in them. Although she couldn’t read his emotions, she was getting skilled at reading him. And everything she read made her want to turn the page and find out more. She cleared her throat. “So...” She didn’t want to ask, but needed to know.
Lee switched to business mode. Moving smoothly but cautiously, he sat down, picked up his phone and looked at it. “The paperwork is here and I’m about to pick up the money.” He looked up briefly. “Could you sit down for a moment while I discuss the terms?” Ash’s face must have showed suspicion. “No, Ash, don’t worry, you’ll get payment and be out of here by tomorrow morning at the latest, I promise.”
She sat and waited for the discussion.
And greed took over. That hundred thousand dollars would be hers. She’d open a bank account and hide that. If there was enough left over from the other amount, then she’d take her cut.
“I’ll see him.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You said you’d be there, right?” She took a shaky breath. “I can’t turn down an additional hundred thousand dollars.”
She could see the disappointment in his face. And she kicked herself for caring what he thought. Three hundred thousand dollars. More money than any of her family had ever seen.