35: Chapter 35: Mr.
“I... I’m not upset,” Joanna Lawrence murmured, her voice slightly strained as the space between them narrowed.
“Is that so?” Ashton Heath paused, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that seemed to bypass her defensive smile. He reached out, his fingertips offering a light, grounding contact as he tilted her chin upward. His expression, usually a mask of frigid professional detachment, now held a glimmer of something far more complex. “Actions tend to be more convincing than words, Joanna.”
Joanna’s eyes widened. The sudden proximity and the gravity in his voice made her breath catch. She could see the reflection of her own startled expression in the dark depths of his eyes—eyes that seemed to recall every detail of their unconventional first meeting.
Overwhelmed by the shift in the atmosphere, Joanna gently placed a hand on his chest, creating a necessary breath of space. Her face warmed with a light flush. “Ashton, we should be professional. Please.”
Ashton straightened his posture, a subtle, knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He caught the slight tremor in her hands and decided to allow her the space she needed. They had been married for less than twenty-four hours; he had no intention of overwhelming her before the foundation of their partnership was set.
“Very well,” Ashton said, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced elegance. “Nutrition first. We can discuss our... mutual understanding... once we’ve had dinner.”
The implication in his tone sent a fresh wave of heat to Joanna’s face. She looked at him, baffled by the contrast. To the world, Ashton Heath was the epitome of the cold, abstinent tycoon. Yet, in the quiet of their shared space, he possessed a disarming, almost playful directness that she hadn't prepared for.
In the driver’s seat, Zack kept his eyes firmly on the road, though he couldn't help the slight sense of disbelief coloring his thoughts. He had worked for Ashton for years and had never witnessed this side of his employer. The man who usually communicated in cold directives was now navigating the delicate nuances of a new relationship with surprising fluidity.
The vehicle arrived at one of Lightspring’s most exclusive venues—a revolving restaurant perched on the 68th floor, offering a panoramic view of the city’s skyline. It was a place of power and prestige, where the best tables were perpetually reserved under the Heath name.
The floor manager hurried forward as they exited the elevator, his professional mask perfectly in place. “Mr. Ashton, welcome back. Everything is prepared as you requested.”
“Good,” Ashton replied with a curt nod.
The manager’s gaze drifted to Joanna. Seeing her dressed in her modest student attire, a flicker of confusion crossed his features. “And this young lady...?”
Before Joanna could offer an explanation, Ashton’s arm settled firmly around her waist. It wasn't just a gesture of proximity; it was a public declaration. “This is my wife,” he stated, his voice carrying an unmistakable weight of authority.
The manager’s composure shattered for a split second. “Mrs... Mrs. Heath?!” He looked at Joanna as if the city’s architecture had just rearranged itself before his eyes. It took him several heartbeats to recover, after which he bowed deeply. “A profound honor, Mrs. Heath. Please, allow me to lead the way.”
“Thank you,” Joanna managed, feeling the weight of the new title. It was her first encounter with the sheer scale of the respect—and scrutiny—that came with being Mrs. Ashton Heath.
As they walked toward their table, the elegant, subtle scent of the man beside her felt like a protective shield. Ashton leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur near her ear that only she could hear, grounding her in the midst of the glittering luxury. He wasn't just bringing her to dinner; he was bringing her into his world.