Bossy Bastard: A Hero Club Novel

by J. L. Perry

  “You heard what the doctor said.”

  “He’s a quack, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  I hear Ashton snicker from beside me, so I give him a look to let him know he’s not helping. “Please, Daddy,” I plead. He gets a soft spot for me when I call him that. “Promise me you’ll take it easy. You know I’m going to worry as it is.”

  “Okay. For you, pumpkin, anything.”

  “Thank you.” I slide my arms around his waist, and he kisses my temple. My eyes clench shut as I will back the tears. I’m scared to leave him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby girl.”

  When I step back, he extends his hand to Ashton. “It was great meeting you, son. I’m just sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

  “It was great meeting you, too,” he replies.

  “I’m going to feel a lot better knowing my Emma has you looking after her in California.”

  Ashton’s face softens as his hand blindly reaches for mine. “Always,” he says to my father as our fingers intertwine.

  A few minutes later, the cab honks its horn out front. Ashton takes our bags outside, and I give my dad one last hug.

  “I’ll see you in a few days,” I say. Ashton and I are going to fly back on the weekend.

  “You don’t need to do that, I’ll be okay.”

  “Daddy, we already discussed this.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you this weekend, pumpkin.”

  He waves us off from the front porch, and the moment the cab pulls away from the house, the first tears fall.

  “Come here,” Ashton says, gathering me in his arms.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  EMMA

  The Barclay jet is waiting for us on the tarmac when we arrive at the airport. Jasmin is standing at the bottom of the stairs ready to greet us. Her eyes zero in on our conjoined hands as we approach.

  “Mr. Barclay… Miss Phoenix,” she says, greeting us with a warm smile.

  “Jasmin,” we reply in unison.

  “I gather we won’t be requiring any parachutes during this flight,” she says giving me a cheeky wink.

  My face turns beet red, and Ashton chuckles. “No, she loves me again,” he replies, placing a kiss on the side of my head. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist my charm for long.”

  Jasmin giggles when I roll my eyes.

  She handles our luggage while we board the plane.

  “I’m hoping you’ll sit next to me this time,” Ashton says, guiding me toward the seats at the front of the plane. “It was hell being so far away from you on the last flight.”

  “Meh, I’ll think about it,” I reply with a casual shrug.

  “You won’t just be sitting next to me, you’ll be sitting on my fucking lap, Emma,” he demands.

  “So bossy.”

  “You love it,” he counters.

  No, I love you.

  “It’s growing on me.”

  “Let me guess, like fungus?”

  We both laugh.

  I spot the awaiting stretch limousine through the window when we touch down in LA. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this lifestyle.

  We’re both tired. Utah has been an emotionally and physically draining stay, not to mention the lack of sleep from us spending our nights lost in each other.

  I’m surprised to see Valentina exit the limo as we descend the stairs. I wasn’t expecting her to be here.

  “Did you know your mother was coming?”

  “No. She mentioned she’d have a car waiting for us when we arrived, though.”

  The smile on her face is huge as we walk toward her hand in hand. “I’m so glad you two worked things out,” she says, pulling us into a group hug.

  When she steps back, she focuses her attention on me. Her hand cups my face as she speaks. “How’s your father, dear? I’ve been so worried.”

  “He’s doing a lot better. Thank you. And thank you for allowing me to use your jet.”

  “It’s yours to use anytime you need it. You’re family now.”

  “Mother!” Ashton scolds.

  “Well, practically,” she says, waving him off, and I have to suppress my laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” Ashton whispers in my ear. I squeeze his hand letting him know it’s okay. He’s mentioned how eager his mother is to see him settle down.

  The driver puts our bags in the trunk of the car as we slide into the back seat. “Should we go have some dinner before Henry takes you home?” Valentina asks.

  “We’re both tired, Mother. And we have work tomorrow.”

  “Of course,” she says, looking disappointed. “Another time, maybe.” Her attention moves to me. “Emma, you’re coming to my charity dinner at the end of the month?”

  “I wasn’t aware of it,” I reply.

  “You’ll be bringing her, won’t you, son?”

  “If she wants to come, of course.”

  “Wonderful. Oh, that reminds me, I brought the thing you asked me to.”

  His mother looks at me and smiles. Thing? I eye the large bag she passes him as he takes it from her and places it on the floor near his feet.

  “Where would you like Henry to take you both?”

  “It would be easier to drop Emma off first.”

  “Okay.”

  Ashton rattles off my address, and it makes me anxious. She’ll probably be horrified to see where I live, just like her son was the first time he came there.

  The closer we get, the more apprehensive I become. I’m not ashamed, but I’m worried she’ll think I’m no longer good enough for her son once she finds out I’m a lowly commoner.

  When we pull up outside my apartment building, Valentina sits forward in her seat, her gaze sweeping over the building. “Is this where you live, Emma?” she asks.

  As well as installing a CCTV camera and security gate at the entry of the building, the new owners have given the exterior a slight makeover. Unfortunately, there’s only so much a new coat of paint can do.

  “Yes. It’s close to my work.”

  Her eyes move to Ashton. “It’s quaint.”

  Quaint is not a word I’d use to describe it, but at least she’s being polite.

  Her son called it a dump.

  The driver opens the door, and Ashton picks up the bag his mother gave him and exits the car.

  “Well, thank you again for everything,” I say, scooting across the seat.

  “You’re welcome, dear. Can we still have that lunch?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll call you. Sometime during the week, perhaps?”

  “I work weekdays.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll come to you. How long is your lunch break?”

  “An hour.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be in touch.”

  I take Ashton’s extended hand.

  When we arrive at my front door, he hands me the bag he’s holding. “What’s this?” I ask. I’ve been curious to know since his mother handed it to him.

  “Open it and see.”

  I peer inside at what appears to be a white jacket. Hesitantly, I pull it out.

  “It’s my letterman jacket from high school. I want you to have it.”

  “You do? Why?”

  “I want you to be my Sandy, Em.”

  My eyes widen. “You watched the movie?”

  “I plead the fifth,” he says, holding his hand up in front of him.

  The smile on my face is so huge, I’m surprised it doesn’t split in two.

  “You want to be my Danny?”

  “Yes, well, your Ashton, actually. You’re the one that I want, Em,” he says with a wink. “Pun intended.”

  We both laugh. He did watch it, and that knowledge warms my heart.

  “You’re showing your sweet side again, Mr. Barclay.”

  “Only for you,” he says as his lips brush with mine. “You do know she doesn’t wear his jacket in the movie, right?”

  “I know. But can I
still keep it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  He rests his forehead against mine. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place tonight. I’ve enjoyed waking up with you in my arms. I’ll miss it.”

  “I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

  “Never. The more I’m with you, the more I want to be with you,” he says.

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you did for me… and for my dad.”

  “You don’t need to thank me. I always take care of what’s mine.”

  That single word sends my heart into a flutter.

  Mine.

  “I’ll miss you tonight.”

  “Same,” he says. “So fucking much.”

  “You probably shouldn’t keep your mother waiting.”

  “I suppose.” The tone of his voice tells me he doesn’t want to leave. His arms slide around my waist, drawing my body flush with his. “I know you have work tomorrow, but will you have dinner with me tomorrow night? I want to see you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I’ll cook for you.” I feel his lips curve up as he places them against my mouth. He kisses me deeply. It’s sweet and passionate.

  “‘Til tomorrow then.”

  “Until tomorrow.” Drawing back, he smiles. “Bye, my Sandy.”

  “Bye, my Danny.”

  I release a breathy sigh, hugging his jacket to my chest.

  Sometimes the heart doesn’t know how to say what it wants, but actions speak louder than words.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  EMMA

  “I feel like a princess,” I say to Carla when she walks into my bedroom dressed for our evening out.

  “You look beautiful, Em. Absolutely gorgeous.”

  “So do you.” I’m thrilled she’s coming tonight.

  The boys surprised us with new gowns. Mine is red, and Carla’s is emerald green. Considering they had no input from us, they did well. I love what Ashton chose for me. Red holds significance for us because I was wearing the same color the night we first kissed. It made me wonder if that’s why he chose it.

  It arrived in a white box that was wrapped with a large bow. Just like my prom dress had been, and again it had me thinking was it a coincidence.

  “And check this out,” I say, lifting my dress and bunching it around my hips. “Lace.” I finally ditched the cotton briefs… well, for tonight anyway. Ashton’s not Kyle, he’d never do what he did. I trusted him with my donut panties, and he didn’t let me down. He probably doesn’t realize I’ve noticed, but he sleeps with them under his pillow.

  This man and all his idiosyncrasies make me all kinds of swoony.

  It felt liberating to walk into a lingerie store and buy the sexiest pair of red lace underwear I could find for my man. As much as Ashton seems to like the cotton variety I wear, I think he’ll love these more.

  “Aww,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “My little Em is finally all grown up.”

  We both laugh. She knows what I went through in high school, but I don’t think she’s ever connected the dots. If she did, I doubt she’d give me such a hard time about my choice of underwear.

  “Wait until he sees the waxing. Guys go crazy over Brazilians.”

  “Really? I feel like a plucked chicken.”

  As well as the waxing, manicure, and pedicure, Carla and I both had our hair professionally done. My long brown locks have been pulled back into an asymmetrical French twist, with a few strands left loose to frame my face. Carla did my makeup heavy around my eyes with ruby red lips. I can’t wait for Ashton to see me all made up.

  I take a final glance in the mirror barely recognizing myself. The last time I felt this beautiful was the night of my prom, but unlike my past, I have renewed hope for tonight.

  The Alexander McQueen silk gown is the epitome of glamor and elegance. With a seductive neckline and straps ever-so-delicately falling off the shoulders. The fitted waist clings to my hips before dropping to a gentle fishtail skirt.

  Simply stunning.

  “The guys should be here any minute.” Carla says. “Gray texted me to say they’d just turned onto West One-fifty-eighth.”

  “I need to throw a few things in my purse, and I’m ready to go.”

  My fingertips run over the heart locket around my neck, the one Ashton bought me after Duke passed. It may not be as chic as the rest of my attire, but it means the world to me, and I refuse to take it off.

  It’s been two weeks since we returned from Utah, not including last weekend when we flew back to see my dad. And things between Ashton and I have been wonderful. We’ve seen each other almost every day. I’ve spent the night at his place a few times, and he’s even stayed at mine.

  Locking my front door, Carla and I head downstairs as the stretch limousine pulls up out the front of our building.

  “Oh, fancy-schmancy,” Carla says.

  Ashton told me Valentina was sending a car for us—I had a feeling it would be this one.

  The heavily tinted back window rolls down as the driver exits the vehicle. “Going our way?” Grayson asks, sticking his head out.

  Carla slips in first, moving to Grayson’s side, and I thank the driver as I hand him my overnight bag. Ashton asked me to go home with him after the event and spend the night.

  Lifting my dress, careful not to step on the hem, I slide in next to Ashton. I haven’t seen him all day, and I’ve missed him. My stomach does a flip-flop as my eyes take him in. He looks so dashing in his tux.

  There’s something about the way his eyes light up when he sees me. It makes me happy inside. “You look beautiful, Em,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against mine. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

  “So do you.”

  After pulling me closer, he runs his nose up the side of my neck. “Fuck, you smell good.” He draws back, and the intensity in his eyes sends tingles up my spine. “I bought this for you.” Reaching beside him, he produces a small clear box, holding it out to me.

  It’s another corsage. A red one this time.

  He can deny it all he wants, but he really is the sweetest man.

  “Hey, where’s my corsage?” Carla asks, playfully slapping Grayson’s chest.

  “Sorry, babe.” His eyes narrow as he glances over at Ashton. “Thanks for making me look bad, asshole.”

  We all laugh.

  It’s a forty-five-minute drive from Gardena to the Taglyan Arts and Cultural Complex, which is near the famous intersection of Hollywood and Vine.

  The charity event is being held in the Grand Ballroom, which Valentina assures me offers a dazzling combination of old-world opulence and cutting-edge audio-visual technology. The venue holds no importance to me, it’s the people I’m surrounded by that do.

  Ashton places his hand on the small of my back as we enter the building. Although he couldn’t take his eyes off me on the drive here, he manages to behave himself, keeping his usual touchy-feely self at bay. If Carla and Grayson hadn’t been in the car, I know it would’ve been a different story. I would have had his hand, tongue, or possibly even him inside me by now.

  Ashton’s thumb gently caresses my skin through my dress as we cross the polished marble floors of the long elegant foyer. “As much as I love this dress on you…” he whispers in my ear, “… I can’t wait to strip you out of it when we get home.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  His hand skates down, skimming over my ass and giving it a cheeky squeeze. When his movements freeze, and I hear him growl, I know he’s realized I’m wearing a thong.

  “Fuck, Em.”

  “No food porn tonight,” I say. “Just skimpy lace.” It’s the first time I’ve ever worn one, and it’s a constant struggle not to pull that thin piece of fabric out from between my butt cheeks.

  “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “No.” I laugh.

  “I’m about to walk into a room full of two hundred people with a massive hard-on.”


  His hand moves down to discreetly adjust his crotch. “I’m sneaking you outside once the formalities are over. I need to see them.” Ashton’s words are laced with promise.

  I gasp the moment we enter the ballroom. Now I understand what Valentina meant about the grandeur of this place. It is stunning. The circular glass-paneled roof is lit up in iridescent pink with a large crystal chandelier as the centerpiece. Another six are strategically placed around the outer edge of the room. The round tables which fill the space and surround the dance floor are exquisitely decorated, a huge arrangement of pink roses sit in the center of each one.

  Pink being the theme color for the evening to represent breast cancer. Valentina told me over our lunch date that both her mother and grandmother succumbed to the disease. Her charity raises money to employ specialty nurses for each patient, giving them a personal one-on-one carer during the duration of their treatment.

  Ashton greets people as we pass, stopping to talk with a few. He’s deep in conversation with a couple when a man approaches. “And who do we have here,” he says, reaching for my hand and bringing it toward his mouth.

  Ashton’s arm slinks around my waist, drawing my body to his. “Back off, Hinkley,” he grumbles. “She’s with me.” My eyes dart to him, and there’s a murderous glare on his face. The man chuckles, holding his hands up in front of him.

  I’m mortified.

  Excusing himself from the people he was talking to, Ashton reaches for my hand pulling us further into the room.

  “That was rude.”

  “I don’t care. He has no right to touch you.”

  “He was only going to kiss my hand,” I emphasize the word my.

  “Well, he’s not allowed.”

  “You’re acting like a caveman,” I say.

  Ashton shrugs his shoulders, clearly still angry. “I don’t like people touching what’s mine, Emma. End of story.”

  When it’s time to take our seats, Valentina hugs us, telling me how lovely I look. She introduces me to the other people sitting at our table, and not as Emma but as Ashton’s Emma.

  Gah!

  I guzzle down a few glasses of champagne between the first two courses. Ashton’s hand keeps moving to my lower back, his thumb rubbing over my thong.