<h4>Chapter 109: Chapter 110 Ashton’s POV: Potential Threat</h4>
The car halted at a red light.
From the backseat, Ashton said, ‘Make a left turn.’
‘But boss, our destination’s to the right.’
‘Left. Make a detour.’
The driver obeyed without furtherment.
They turned onto Garrison Lane, three blocks from Nyx Collective’s office.
The car slowed, crawling through a street lined with outdoor cafés, post-lunch strollers and errand boys on scooters wobbling under coffee trays.
Ashton had meant only to drop in and say hello.
Well. If he was being honest with himself, he also wanted to check out her workce, survey the male poption, identify and quietly eliminate any potential threats.
He trusted Mirabelle to stick to their contract uses, but he also knew he wasn’t the only man with eyes in his head.
Then he saw her. And the n changed.
She wasn’t alone.
A man stood in front of her on the pavement, both hands on her shoulders, face tight with concern.
He said something.
Mirabelle’s back was to Ashton; he couldn’t catch her reply.
The man dropped his hands, and they began walking.
He positioned himself street-side, subtly protective.
Mirabelle turned her head slightly as she spoke.
Ashton caught the curve of her smile. Rxed. Happy.
The man leaned in, head tilted, hanging on her words.
‘Slow down,’ Ashton said.
The car, already moving at a tortoise’s pace, slowed to a snail’s.
‘Who’s that?’
Dominic Everett, in the front passenger seat, squinted. ‘Thewyer. The one Mrs Laurent hired before she came to us. Our legal team met him. Finn something.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Finnigan Carter.’
‘The college friend.’
‘Yes.’
Ashton’s frown deepened.
The case was over. What was he still doing here?
And judging by the puppy-dog eyes, this Finnigan wanted more than just friendly catch-ups.
Ashton remembered how Mirabelle had sung his praises, how Finn—not Finnigan—had gone above and beyond to help her.
The observant Dominic noticed the tension in his boss’s frame.
Attempting a redirection, he said, ‘Boss, we’re going to runte for the lunch meeting.’
‘Cancel it,’ Ashton said, eyes never leaving the pavement. ‘Reschedule.’
Dominic wisely chose silence over protest.
He made the call, uttered an appropriate apology, hung up, nced back.
Ashton was still staring out the window.
The pair on the street weren’t in a hurry. Looked like Finnigan was escorting her back to her office.
‘Dominic,’ Ashton said. ‘There’s a restaurant there. Get out. Order takeaway. Quick.’
The car pulled over.
Dominic, still not entirely sure what Ashton was plotting, did as told.
Five minutester, he returned with a paper bag and several unanswered questions.
‘Gino, circle round. Beat them to Nyx Collective.’
The driver took a side street.
In under a minute, they were parked in front of her building.
Ashton stepped out with the takeaway bag.
People recognised him instantly. A few brave souls made tentative moves, hoping for a word, a handshake.
But Ashton’s bodynguage screamed ‘leave me the hell alone.’
He was.
A few minutester, Mirabelle and Finn appeared.
She froze. Surprise gave way to confusion as she walked up. ‘What are you doing here?’
The impable suit and the paper bag looked incongruous.
‘I’m bringing you lunch, sweetheart.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
Her eyes, already big, widened toical proportions.
‘It’s a surprise, honey.’ He slid an arm round her waist, pulling her close as he turned to Finn. ‘Hello.’
A polished smile apanied his outstretched hand.
‘You must be Finnigan. My wife talks a lot about you. Says you’re a greatwyer.’
Finn blinked like a mudskipper suddenly tossed ontond. He hesitated, then shook Ashton’s hand.
‘Uh... yeah. Hello.’ His gaze darted to Mirabelle. ‘Wait... you’re married?’
Mirabelle squirmed. Ashton’s arm didn’t budge.
‘Yeah,’ she muttered. ‘Sort of.’
Ashton smoothly cut in, ‘Been a while now, actually.’ Forty-eight days and counting.
He held Finn’s gaze. The edge in his look wasn’t even trying to hide.
Mirabelle threw him a quick, questioning nce.
Finn looked like he had a thousand questions.
‘Honey?’ Ashton prompted. ‘Aren’t you going to do the honours?’
‘What? Oh. Right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘This is Finn Carter, college friend, also thewyer who helped me with my case. And this is... Ashton Laurent. My, um, husband.’
Ashton lifted the takeaway bag. ‘I’d have brought more if I knew you were joining us.’
‘That’s fine,’ Finn managed. ‘We’ve eaten.’
‘We?’
‘Mira and I just had lunch.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Silence.
The three of them stood in an awkward tableau, with pedestrians thronging around them.
Finn looked at Ashton’s arm still firmly locked around Mirabelle’s waist, then read the message in his eyes.
Realisation dawned.
He’d missed his chance.
‘I need to get back to the firm,’ he muttered. ‘We’ll get that coffee some other time, Mira. Nice meeting you, Mr Ashton.’
‘You too, Mr Carter,’ Ashton said.
Mirabelle nodded, distracted. ‘Take care.’
Once Finn was gone, she turned to him. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Bringing you lunch, like I said.’
‘You never do that.’
‘There’s a first time for everything.’
People were staring. Mirabelle squirmed out of his arm. This time, he let go.
‘I’ve eaten.’
‘I heard. Bad timing on my part. My meeting was nearby. I thought we could share a meal.’
‘You haven’t eaten?’
‘No.’
‘Well.’ She pointed to the bag in his hand. ‘Go ahead.’ She nced around. ‘Do you want toe up to my office? Or there’s a coffee ce across the street.’
‘Is that the ce where you nned to “get coffee” with Mr Carter?’
‘What? You mean he said... Oh, um, I don’t know, maybe this is the ce he meant, or some other ce. I didn’t get the chance to find out.’
‘Would you like to?’
‘Like to what?’
‘To find out. From Mr Carter.’
Mirabelle squinted at him. ‘You are acting weird.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Well.’ He took her hand and began walking. ‘It’s crowded here. Let’s get in the car.’
‘And a car’s not crowded?’ She huffed, but followed him anyway.