The Man in the Ashes Chapter 1

Barry was the boyfriend I conned into loving me.

He was deaf.

My favorite thing was to take off his hearing aid when we were tangled in the sheets and whisper wicked things in his ear.

Then I found out he was Barry Seret, heir to the Seret empire.

So the night we broke up, things got ugly.

With eyes rimmed in red, Barry told me to get out.

So I did.

I didn't dare set foot in New York again until three years later, when the news of his engagement broke. I thought I could slip in unnoticed.

But Barry, with a face as calm and cold as a frozen lake, turned around and tied me up with his belt.

"Where do you think you're running this time?" he murmured.

"My… fiancée."

* * *

I kept my head down, pretending to adjust my camera, but my palm was slick with sweat.

I never thought I’d run into Barry this soon.

"Mr. Seret, don't let her age fool you. Linda here has been raking in international photography awards for years," Rebecca, my editor, said, patting my shoulder with a playful grin. "I had to pay a small fortune to poach her from L.A."

"I guarantee you won't regret giving us the exclusive for your first cover shoot."

Barry’s gaze swept over me, as placid and undisturbed as still water. "Is that so?"

"Well then, I'm in your hands, Ms. Shen."

It was the most formal, impersonal pleasantry.

I lowered my voice, trying to make it sound deeper, less like the girl I used to be.

"Of course, Mr. Seret."

He gave a slight nod, his eyes holding no flicker of recognition, before looking away.

I let my eyelids fall, my lashes trembling.

He didn't recognize me.

Then again, I had changed my last name. With a mask covering half my face and my current style, no one would ever connect me to the vibrant, wild Linda Reed of the past.

The entire shoot, Barry was a professional. With the slightest direction, he gave me the perfect angle.

Whispers erupted from the crew behind me.

"God, Mr. Seret's body is insane. I am looking respectfully."

"Okay, I see why Rebecca paid top dollar for this Linda girl. Her understanding of the human form is incredible. The angles, the poses… I can feel the raw power under his shirt just from looking at the monitor."

My mind drifted.

I remembered a boy, his neck flushed red, completely naked. Even though I’d drawn him countless times, he was still impossibly shy.

Well, for the first half, at least.

Somehow, our life drawing sessions always ended up migrating to a different location. The bedroom, the sofa, the bathtub, the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’d always end up more exhausted than if I'd sketched ten different models.

"Barry, it's always like this!" I’d kick at him, exasperated. "I'm never drawing you again! I'm going to find a new model! One with an eight-pack!"

He’d catch my ankle, his grip firm but gentle, saying nothing. After a long moment, he would lean down and kiss the corner of my mouth. "Linda, I'm sorry."

I'd pause. Was he actually admitting fault? Was he going to change his ways?

The next second, he'd take off his hearing aid.

Four boxes of condoms, assorted flavors.

I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for a week.

Damn him. And he had the nerve to apologize. So polite.

But in the end, we still broke up. That night was a catastrophe.

The corners of his eyes were a faint, painful red, his voice ice. "Linda, this is the last time. I don't do second chances."

I hung my head, my "okay" barely a whisper.

He clenched his jaw, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Fine. Get out."

"And don't ever let me see you again."

"Or I swear to God, I'll kill you."