Nothing Left to Lose (73 page)

“We’d better go
pack,” she said quietly after a few minutes of silence. I nodded,
not wanting to make this any harder for her because she was
obviously struggling with the fact that she had feelings for me. I
could see how torn she was inside, and her internal conflict made
my heart ache. “Ashton, when we get home…” she trailed off, looking
at her feet as she wrapped the towel around herself.

“Yeah, I know,
you don’t need to say it,” I said honestly. I could tell by her
face what she was going to say, and that was fine, she needed time
after what she’d been through.

She looked up
at me, her eyes full of sorrow. “Okay good. Let’s go pack then, we
need to leave in an hour or so, right?” she replied, changing the
subject.

“Yeah we need
to be at the boat in an hour and twenty minutes,” I confirmed,
looking at my watch. She turned her back on me and walked out of
the bathroom. Once I was alone, I closed my eyes and prayed with
all my heart that she was strong enough to let herself love me. I’d
wait as long as it took.

I felt slightly
awkward after the talk, or I should really call it the ‘non-talk’
because he knew what I was going to say before I opened my mouth.
Frankly, I was grateful, because saying the words would have felt
like cutting my heart out. We fell back into the usual friendly
routine pretty easily as we packed and joked around and he seemed
to snap his business head back on as soon as we stepped out of the
villa with our luggage. He was making sure I was close to his side
and moving me so I was half a step behind him. The chilled and
relaxed version of the bodyguard was completely gone now. I missed
him already.

The flight was
good. Long, but good. After hours and hours of doing nothing on a
plane, we finally touched down. The stewardess came up to us
immediately. “Excuse me, sir, I have Dean Michaels on the phone for
you,” she said to Ashton, leaning closer to him than necessary and
putting her hand on his shoulder. I tried my hardest not to get
jealous, but I just couldn’t help it.

“Stay right
there, Anna,” he instructed, looking at me sternly. I fought a
smile; he really was sexy when he was all bossy like that. I nodded
and he hurried off to the front wall of the plane, not taking his
eyes from me once as he spoke quietly on the phone. He pulled out
his cell from his pocket and looked at it, frowning. I couldn’t
hear what he was saying, but he looked worried and slightly
annoyed. After a minute or so he came over to me, his eyes tight
with stress. “Right, Baby Girl, there are some reporters waiting
for us just outside arrivals. Apparently, the paparazzi found out
where we were staying, and somehow they’ve gotten hold of some
photos of us on the beach,” he explained, watching me as if I was
about to go into meltdown.

“Okay, and?” I
prompted, waiting for him to continue. There had to be more, this
wasn’t enough for him to look this troubled.

He sighed
deeply, running a hand through his hair. “They know about the names
we booked in under, and there have been a couple of stories in the
papers today about our secret wedding,” he stated uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry we’ve only just found out but my cell’s not working,” he
said apologetically.

I gulped as
every hair on my body stood on end. My mind was whirling a mile a
minute. The air in the cabin seemed to be getting thicker as I
looked at Ashton with wide eyes. “Why would they even print that?
It’s not true! They can’t print stuff that’s not true!”

He sighed and
cupped my cheek gently. “I don’t know, Anna. They’re paid to sell
papers, that’s all. Everything’s fine. We’ll get all of this sorted
out. All we need to do is show them we’re not wearing wedding
rings,” he smiled reassuringly as he took my hand. “Dean and Peter
are meeting us at the gate. Our bags will be collected after, so
all we need to do is get to the car. Apparently there are a lot of
reporters.”

I nodded in
acknowledgment, trying not to worry as he led me out of the plane.
As soon as we stepped out of the exit tunnel and into the arrivals
lounge, Dean and Peter strutted over to us quickly. Both of them
were wearing a professional black suit and white shirt, and looked
every inch of secret service agents.

“Hey, happy new
year,” I greeted, forcing a smile.

“Happy new
year,” they both replied.

Then it was
down to business. They both looked to Ashton for guidance. Although
they took a couple of steps away from me, I could still hear them
planning. My name was mentioned a couple of times, but I tuned them
out and looked out over the runway, watching the planes line up and
taxi along the tarmac as I tried not to panic.

After a minute
or two, Ashton’s hand closed over mine, squeezing gently. “Okay,
we’re ready to go. The reporters are just outside the lounge so we
have to walk past them to get to the car out front. You stay with
me. I’ve called in Airport security; they’re going to walk us to
the car too. If there are any problems, then you go with Dean,” he
ordered in his stern SWAT voice.

I smiled and
nodded as six burly security guys stepped through the side door,
they walked over and Ashton relayed the plan again before nodding
for one of them to open the double exit doors.

As soon as the
door opened, all I could see was flashing lights. People were
shouting our names from all directions. It was almost deafening.
Ashton’s arm snaked around my waist tightly. “Everything’s fine,”
he whispered. As one, the airport security, my two far guards, and
Ashton and I took a few steps out of the door. I tried to smile,
but the thirty or so cameras and reporters were overwhelming. Some
of them were even on stepladders and chairs so that they could get
a better shot.

My mouth went
dry as Ashton smiled down at me reassuringly. It all went quiet for
about two seconds and then the questions started all at once,
people shouting louder and louder, trying to be heard over the din.
The questions were all jumbled into one, but were all essentially
the same. “Were we married? What was the ceremony like? What
designer did I wear? Were we going to sell the photos? What did my
father think?” It was endless.

Ashton held up
one hand and they all stopped talking immediately. “Anna and I
aren’t married. We went on vacation, that’s all. We changed her
name to get a little privacy. It was a private joke between the two
of us, this is all a misunderstanding,” he said calmly. People
immediately started shouting questions at the same time so all we
could hear was a buzz of noise. He held up his hand again. “Look,
we’ll answer some questions, I guess, but you need to go one at a
time,” he suggested, laughing.

“You’re not
married?” one reporter shouted quickly.

I shook my
head. “Nah, he’s too pretty for me,” I joked, trying to sound blasé
when all I wanted to do was run. I didn’t like this confrontation.
I didn’t like people assuming I was married, even if it was to
Ashton. Marriage was a serious sore spot for me. The freedom that
I’d felt over the last two weeks as Annabelle Taylor was now long
gone.

“Why did you
book the vacation under the name of Mr and Mrs Taylor?” another
reporter asked.

Ashton
shrugged. “We were just fooling around; it was a private joke which
we don’t really want to explain. Nothing was meant by it, so please
don’t read anything into it,” he answered. He was so calm; this
didn’t scare him at all.

“Are you two
expecting a baby?”

I gasped at the
question. “What? No!” I cried, shocked. Ashton laughed wickedly and
kissed the side of my head affectionately.

“You’re not
pregnant and you’re not married?” someone clarified.

Ashton shook
his head. “No baby, no wedding. Sorry guys, this is all just a
misunderstanding,” he stated easily.

“How was your
vacation?”

I looked at
Ashton, signalling for him to answer. I wasn’t nearly as cool and
collected as he was, in fact, I could feel the sweat breaking out
on my forehead because of the pressure. “Fantastic. Shame to be
back,” he answered, tracing his hand up my back softly.

“Do you think
you two will get married? Ashton, do you want to marry Anna?” one
guy shouted.

Ashton laughed
and looked at the reporters. “Who asked that?” A guy that looked to
be in his mid-thirties raised his hand. Ashton grinned at him
wickedly. “Well look at her, wouldn’t you want to marry her if she
was your girl?” he replied, grinning. All of the reporters laughed
as I gasped and elbowed him in the ribs in reprimand. Thankfully,
at that moment Dean walked up, standing in front of us as he
motioned for us to start walking again, signalling that question
time was over. Ashton’s arm snaked around my waist again
immediately as we were marched to the exit. Reporters ran alongside
us, cameras snapped and they shouted last questions, but airport
security and Peter held them back as Dean led us along quickly.

As we slid into
the back of the waiting car, I blew out a big breath. “Damn, that
was a lot of people!”

Both Dean and
Peter slipped into the front seconds later, and as we pulled out of
the space, Dean twisted in his seat. “Want to see these?” he asked,
holding out three tabloid newspapers.

I nodded and
took them off him. We were on the front page of each one:
‘Annaton Secret Marriage And Baby Shocker’
and
‘First
Daughter Elopes’
and
‘Shotgun Wedding Shock’
were
plastered across the papers.

“This is just
stupid!” I huffed, scanning over the first one. They were basing
everything on the fact that we had booked our hotel and plane
tickets in the name of Taylor. I looked over the photos that they
had of us. There were a few different ones: us lying on the beach
drinking cocktails, us swimming in the sea and playing around,
Ashton rubbing sun cream onto my stomach whilst kissing my
shoulder. There was even one of me lying on top of him on the sand;
he had his hands on my derrière as we laughed about something.

They all seemed
to be taken on the same day because I was wearing my red bikini and
had my hair tied up. “Was this yesterday?” I asked, looking at
Ashton.

He nodded.
“Yeah, I think so,” he agreed. A smile broke out on his face. “Nice
photo,” he added, pointing to the one of his hands on my butt.

“Yeah, way to
get us in trouble, Pretty Boy,” I teased.

He shrugged
unashamedly. “You shouldn’t have such a nice ass, maybe then I’d be
able to keep my hands off it.”

I rolled my
eyes. “How did they get these photos anyway? I didn’t see any
photographers.”

Ashton shook
his head, frowning, and looking quite annoyed about it. “There
weren’t any. They must have had a boat or something with a long
lens camera. Reporters and photographers aren’t allowed on the
resort.”

I silently sent
up thanks that they hadn’t managed to get any photos of us in our
villa, or even worse, doing naughty things in the sea. A blush
spread across my face at the thought of those kind of pictures
being in the papers. I turned to the next page to read what they
had written about us.

Clearly, they
still adored us as a couple. They speculated that I was pregnant,
which was the reason for the young marriage. As evidence of me
being ‘with child’, they reprinted the picture of Ashton rubbing
sun cream on my stomach, pointing out how he was ‘caressing it
lovingly’.

I ground my
teeth in annoyance. “Jeez, I know I’ve put on a couple of pounds in
the last couple of months, but pregnant?” I grumbled.

Ashton burst
out laughing. “Don’t start with that! You don’t have an ounce of
fat on you,” he chimed in, shaking his head, chuckling. I closed
the paper, not wanting to read anymore.

When we finally
arrived home, Ashton and the far guards were talking and planning
in the kitchen, so I strutted into the bedroom and over to the full
length mirror that hung on the wall. I lifted my top, turning to
the side, squinting and trying to see why they had printed that I
was pregnant. Since Ashton had stopped me running like a crazy
person I’d put on a few pounds, but I hadn’t thought it was
noticeable.

The door
clicked open behind me, but I wasn’t fast enough in pulling my
shirt down before Ashton groaned loudly. “Anna, be serious! You
don’t look pregnant. You’re perfect and beautiful and girls would
kill to have a body like yours,” he scolded, looking slightly
annoyed.

I sighed,
defeated. “Well, where the hell did it come from then?”

Before I knew
what happened, my feet were knocked out from under me as he pulled
me into his arms. I squealed and threw my arms around his neck as
he carried me bridal style over to the bed, sitting on the edge and
settling me in his lap.

“People make
stuff up in the papers everyday. It’s probably our age; pregnancy
is a reason some people get married young. They’re just clutching
at straws. That photo probably just added fuel to the fire. If I’d
been rubbing cream on your back or shoulders then they might not
have even printed it. Trust me, you are just perfect, I promise,”
he vowed, kissing my nose.

I sighed and
tightened my arms around his neck breathing him in. “This will all
die down, won’t it? All of this attention.”

He rubbed my
back gently, soothing me. “I’m sure it will after a few weeks,” he
replied, his voice soft and tender. I pressed myself closer to him
and tried desperately to ignore the way my body was reacting to the
contact with him. “You tired?” he asked, as I failed in stifling a
large yawn. I nodded and glanced over to the clock, noting it was
almost midnight. “Let’s go to bed then,” he suggested, helping me
off his lap. “I’ll be right back.” He headed out of the room to
check the doors, the same as he did every night. I grabbed a pair
of pyjamas and headed to the bathroom to change and wash my
face.