Page 72 of Scandal
After the camera clicks a few times, I let my gaze drift, needing a momentary respite from his intense stare. The windowpane is old and warped, making the gardens below look surreal, as if you’re peering through a looking glass into another world. The wood around it is the kind you find all over Blackstone. Beautiful and highly polished, but if you look closely, you can see the age in the tiny scratches and grooves etched into the layers of varnish.
“Is that…” I find myself saying, pointing to the corner behind Asher. “Your initials?”
Asher turns, but he’s already grinning. “I was hoping your keen eye wouldn’t notice that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s been twenty years and my mother has not…and I’d very much like to keep it that way.”
I snort out a laugh, and the corners of his eyes crinkle in response. “Maybe she doesn’t have as keen eyesight as she thinks,” I whisper.
He sneaks a glance in her direction. She raises a brow. “I think she sees what she wants to see.”
“And you? What do you see when you look at these initials carved into the window?”
He looks at me, his gaze raking over me in a way that makes my body tingle. “Hope,” he says, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. “I see hope.”
“Perfect!” the photographer shouts, making us both jump. “That last shot was perfect.” Then he turns to Lana and says, “I think I’m done.”
“Really?” she says, surprised. “You don’t think you need a few more? Just in case their posture comes off as rigid or fake?”
Her eyes slowly shift from the photographer to Asher and back again.
What the fuck?
“Uh, no. Like I said, the last shot was?—”
“Perfect.” She glowers. “I heard you.”
He turns to address Asher and me. “Thank you so much for the opportunity. Capturing two people in love is one of my favorite things and something I rarely get to do, so I truly appreciate it. Let me know if you’d like any prints.”
“We will,” Asher replies, offering the man his hand. The man graciously takes it, thanking him again.
Theodora’s secretary, Connor, takes over from there, asking whether he minds staying to take a few photos during the interview. He agrees, and we move into the sitting room for tea.
No one actually drinks any of it. It’s all for show.
And even if it weren’t, I’d be too damn nervous to drink or eat anything right now anyway. Not to mention the risk of spilling something on my gorgeous dress.
Considering the vibe I’m getting from this reporter, she definitely wouldn’t leave something like that off the record.
She’d probably make it front-page news.
Asher’s new girlfriend can’t even drink a proper cup of tea…gasp!
Lana sits across from us, while Theodora takes the chair to our left. They couldn’t look more different. Lana is the definition of chic, wearing designer wide-leg black pants, pumps, and a sheer blouse. The countess is in a sensible green wrap dress with nude pumps.
Evie, Mac, and Connor all melt into the background, standing against the wall…again. I try to ignore the occasional flash of the camera.
Everyone else does.
Asher takes my hand, but there’s an undercurrent of nervousness in his posture I can’t quite read. I glance up at him and see a familiar look in his gaze as he stares at the brunette across from us.
A familiarity that seems almost…No, it couldn’t be.
“So, Asher—” Theodora clears her throat and gives Lana a pointed glare. “Sorry,” Lana offers a halfhearted apology. “Habit, I guess.”
Habit?Habit?
