Fake Dating the Billionaire Who Hired Me

Chapter Five

Athlea’s Pov

I stood in the middle of my huge guest bedroom, glaring at Ashton as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The room was nicer than any hotel I had ever seen in my life, with a giant fluffy bed, white silk curtains, and a private bathroom that looked like it was made of solid marble. But right now, I didn't care about the fancy decorations. My chest felt tight, and my nerves were strung together like live wires.

Ashton let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his dark hair. The harsh overhead light caught the sharp lines of his face, making him look tired, though he still tried to wear that cold mask of his.

"My father is not going to throw you out, Athlea," Ashton said, his voice dropping into a low, steady hum. "He is just coming to sniff around. He thinks this relationship is a publicity stunt we made up to save the hotel merger. If he sees us acting like a normal, happy couple, he will back off."

"And what if he doesn't?" I shot back, stepping closer to him, my voice rising. "What if he figures out the truth? What if he looks at me and sees a poor girl who is only here because her dad left her drowning in bills? I am not good at playing high-society games, Ashton. I don't know how to smile at rich people who think they are better than everyone else."

Ashton stopped leaning against the doorframe. He pushed off the wood and walked straight into my room, closing the distance between us until he was standing right in front of me. He was so tall that I had to tilt my head way back just to look into his eyes.

"Listen to me," Ashton whispered, his stormy eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, fierce intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. "My father is a bully. He spends his whole life looking for weaknesses in other people so he can crush them. But you are not weak, Athlea. You stood up to me in that office yesterday, and you stood up to that reporter on the street. If my father tries to make you feel small tomorrow night, you look him right in the eye and bite back. You have every right to be in this room."

I stared up at him, completely stunned. For a second, the cold, arrogant billionaire CEO disappeared, and I just saw a man standing beside me in the dark, ready to fight his own family for my protection. A warm, strange shiver ran all the way down my spine, mixing with a nervous flutter in my stomach.

"You're only saying that because my mess ruins your business merger," I mumbled, trying to look away from his intense gaze, though my feet felt glued to the floor.

"Maybe," Ashton murmured softly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He raised his hand slowly, and for a heart-stopping second, I thought he was going to touch my face. But he stopped himself, dropping his hand back to his side as he took a step backward. "Get some sleep, Athlea. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

Without another word, he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

I stood there in the quiet bedroom for a long time, my heart pounding like a drum. I knew I was playing with fire. Living in the same house as Ashton Sterling, pretending to love him, letting him pay my debts—it was all one big, dangerous trap. But as I finally crawled under the heavy white sheets, staring up at the dark ceiling, I realized something terrifying: I wasn't just scared of losing my home anymore. I was scared of what might happen to my heart if I forgot this whole thing was just a lie.

The next morning, the sun blasted through the glass walls of the penthouse, waking me up way earlier than I wanted. I dragged myself out of bed, put on a simple yellow sundress I had brought in my backpack, and walked out into the massive kitchen.

The smell of fresh coffee hit my nose, and to my surprise, I didn't see a maid or a chef. I saw Ashton standing by the marble island, wearing a fitted black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, pouring hot water into a mug.

He looked up when he heard my footsteps, his dark eyes sweeping over my dress. A tiny, almost invisible flicker of surprise crossed his face.

"Morning," Ashton said, his voice smooth and calm. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Like a rock, once I stopped worrying about falling off the edge of the earth," I muttered, walking over to the counter and eyeing the coffee pot. I reached out to grab a mug, but Ashton’s hand shot out faster, gently wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

"Ah-ah," Ashton said, shaking his head. "Remember the rules from the nutritionist? No heavy caffeine. Decaf herbal tea only."

I glared down at his hand holding my wrist, my skin burning right where his fingers touched me. "Let go of my arm, Mr. Sterling. And I will drink whatever I want."

"No, you won't," he argued, a stubborn glint appearing in his eyes. But he didn't let go right away. Instead, his thumb brushed softly over my pulse point for a second before he pulled his hand back like he had touched fire. "I bought special decaf vanilla tea just for you. It's on the top shelf."

I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow at him. "You bought tea for me? Are you feeling okay? Did the billionaire hotel CEO get replaced by an alien during the night?"

Ashton let out a low, deep chuckle—a real, genuine sound that made him look ten years younger and ten times more dangerous. "Don't push your luck, Morgan. I just don't want you passing out during dinner tonight when my father arrives."

Just as I opened my mouth to give him a snappy comeback, a loud, sharp chime echoed through the penthouse.

The private elevator bell rang.

We both froze. I looked at the digital clock on the microwave. It was barely five o'clock in the afternoon.

"He's early," Ashton whispered, his entire body suddenly going rigid, his relaxed posture turning back into the cold, armored businessman in a single second.

The private elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and heavy footsteps echoed across the marble hallway.

"Ashton!" a booming, arrogant voice called out from the living room. "I hope you have a very good explanation for why your face is plastered all over the morning papers with some random charity case!"

My heart slammed straight into my throat. I looked at Ashton, my hands trembling slightly at my sides. The game had officially started.

Ashton didn't hesitate. He walked across the kitchen floor, stopped right in front of me, and before I could even blink, his strong hand reached out, gently cupping the side of my face. His thumb brushed softly against my cheekbone, his touch warm.

"Remember your cue," Ashton whispered down to me, his dark eyes burning with pure warning and a strange, hidden promise. Then, he raised his voice so it echoed straight into the living room. "Come on out, Dad. Let me introduce you to the woman who completely changed my world."