Chapter 4: My sister’s billionaire husband

Ashley’s POV

Panic coiled in my gut, squeezing the air from my lungs. There he was, my sister’s husband, Andreas Thorne, a living, breathing man, and the reality of the situation slammed into me with the force of an avalanche. How had I forgotten that I was supposed to be sharing this room with him like a normal couple would?

I scrambled off the bed, my bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. Quickly, I reached for the bedside lamp, the light casting a warm glow over the room, and illuminating Andreas’ form. He rose from the armchair, his movements slow and deliberate. My breath hitched in my throat as our eyes met.

Steely grey eyes, dark ebony hair that tumbled across his forehead in a way that seemed artfully messy, with a jaw that was sharp, clean-shaven, and held a hint of stubble that only added to his rugged appeal.

His build sent a jolt through me. Even in the loose-fitting clothes he wore, I could see the broad expanse of his shoulders tapering down to a lean waist. He towered over me, his height accentuated by the armchair he’d vacated. A self-conscious blush crept up my cheeks.

I'd seen Andreas Thorne only a handful of times after the wedding but his face, etched with an air of both youthful charm and steely determination, was plastered across almost every financial magazine and business news website as one of the faces of the elite and yet nothing had prepared me for the sheer force of him as we stared at each other from where we stood. If my sister reasons for marrying this man were for his looks and money, then I couldn't fault her for it.

Relief washed over me like a wave, momentarily drowning the panic that had been clawing at my throat. Andreas' arrival, expected as it was, wasn't the worst-case scenario I'd envisioned. The worst-case scenario involved kisses and lingering touches, things that I assumed a man would want from his wife.

But his expression, illuminated by the soft lamplight, was devoid of warmth. It sent a shiver down my spine, a chill far deeper than the air-conditioned room could warrant. That's when I remembered that Ashton had said she wasn't on good terms with him. What could they have argued about?

"Andreas?" I ventured tentatively, needing to break the suffocating silence. "When did you get in?"

He glanced at me briefly, his gaze sharp. "Just arrived," he muttered, his voice clipped and devoid of any emotion. It felt more like an order than an answer, a dismissal rather than an invitation to conversation.

"Oh," I stammered, unsure of what to say next. The air crackled with unspoken words and unspoken tension. "Are you…" I trailed off, unable to complete the question. Was he tired? Upset? Or was this his default setting?

He didn't bother waiting for me to finish. "Shower first," he declared, already moving towards the bathroom door as my heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the stifling silence.

As he disappeared behind the door, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Relief, tinged with a healthy dose of confusion, washed over me. It wouldn't be a walk in the park pretending to be Andreas' wife, but at least it wouldn't involve any romance from what little interaction we'd just had.

Reaching for my phone, my fingers flew across the screen. "Ashton, your husband just arrived. He looks like he wants to freeze everyone in the room solid!" Sending the message, I paced the plush carpet, the luxurious room suddenly feeling like a gilded cage.

Would I be able to survive this weekend? The answer, I knew, would come in due time. After all, it wasn't like I could pack my things and leave without giving Ashton the bad name that she was desperately trying to avoid.

Just then, my phone rang and when I saw that it was from Liv, my chest tightened. I hadn't told her about the swap and lying felt heavy on my tongue, but honesty didn't seem like an option. "Hey Liv, just got home," I mumbled, the words tasting like ashes in my mouth.

"Home?" Olivia's surprised voice echoed through the phone. "You went out? Ooh, this sounds like something that I should know. Who's the guy? Because you never leave your house."

"Not a guy, Liv" I muttered, hating the way my voice sounded so strained. "Just wanted to change scenery."

"Hmm," Olivia hummed, her suspicions evident. "Everything okay? You sound…stressed."

"Yeah, just a long day," That much at least, was true.

"Well, don't work yourself too hard," Olivia said, her voice softening. "And remember, we still need to talk about that reveal. All those fans are dying to meet the real A.R. Eve."

My breath hitched. The thought of stepping out of the shadows, of facing the judgment and scrutiny of the public eye as myself instead of hiding under the safety of my pseudonym, sent a shiver down my spine. "We'll chat about it when I'm back," I promised and we said our goodbyes.

Before I could go back to panicking about everything that could go wrong on this trip, the bathroom door swung open, revealing Andreas in a state of partial undress. He was clad only in a white towel that clung to his waist, leaving little to the imagination.

I let out a startled gasp, the sound escaping my lips before I could stop it. My cheeks flushed crimson as Andreas' eyes locked with mine, his eyebrows shooting up in question.

Mortified, I stammered another apology, "I-I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were coming out…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn't take it anymore. Needing to escape the awkward situation, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "I need the bathroom!"

Throwing him a panicked look, I bolted past him and lunged for the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind me with a resounding thud. Leaning against the cool tile wall, I fought to catch my breath, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs and that was when I remembered that I'd done something stupid.

Why had I run like that if Andreas was supposed to be my husband? Wouldn't he think that it was suspicious that his wife was acting like she had never seen him naked?

Shit!

My cheeks burned even hotter, a mixture of shame and a strange flutter in my stomach.

Leaning against the cool tile, I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my thundering heart. Would I have to share a bed with him tonight? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. What if, despite his frosty behavior earlier, he expected some sort of…conjugal bliss? The image of myself sandwiched between Andreas Thorne and a mountain of comforters was enough to make me hyperventilate. My hands itched to grab my phone and give Ashton an earful for managing to convince me to do this.

Just then, a booming voice cut through my panicked thoughts. "I'm heading downstairs. Try not to be late for dinner," Andreas called out.

The sound of a slamming door confirmed his departure. Slowly, I emerged from the bathroom, feeling like a rabbit caught in headlights. He was gone. For now.

Reaching for my phone, I swiped the screen, desperately hoping for a reply from Ashton to the message I'd sent. Of course, there was nothing. This was so like her– throwing me into the deep end and then disappearing like smoke. A frustrated scream erupted from my throat.  How could she do this to me? Trying her phone, it rang and there was no answer.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

Taking a calming breath, I forced myself to focus on the immediate crisis – dinner with Andreas and his family which comprised of who knows who else.  Fantastic. Steeling my nerves, I marched towards my luggage, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. Tonight, I had to transform into my easygoing attention enjoying sister.  No pressure, right? Just pretend to be someone I’m not in front of a room full of strangers, all while keeping a professional respectful distance between myself and my sister’s billionaire husband. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.