by M. Malone
Ask Me
M. Malone
For the real Andre.
You are so much more than I could have ever asked for.
One lifetime with you is not enough.
Contents
the question
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
the answer
Epilogue
Epilogue
Also by M. Malone
About the Author
Ask Me
Andre
I’m THAT guy. The one women want and other men want TO BE.
Arrogant? Maybe.
Accurate? Abso-F’ing-lutely.
So when my brother dares me to hit on women as a regular guy, I’m up for the challenge. It turns out quite a few ladies like ripped jeans just as much as haute couture. Except for one. Cassandra. Nothing I do impresses this girl which only makes me want her more. For the first time, I’m smitten.
Until she ditches me after a night of intense passion.
* * *
Casey
If it’s possible to screw up a good thing, I’m the girl who’ll figure out how. So when I get a new job, I celebrate with one last night of fun before focusing on climbing the corporate ladder.
Until my night of fun walks into the office and I discover who he really is. My firm’s biggest client and my new nightmare.
Egotistical, entitled and infuriating, Andre Lavin is not making it easy for me to ignore him. In a battle of wills, we’ll see who can hold out the longest.
And who is still standing at the end.
* * *
ASK ME is the kind of outrageous romantic comedy that will have you clutching your pearls and laughing until you cry! This standalone romance features crossover characters from the USA TODAY bestselling book BEG ME.
the question
* * *
I’m that guy.
Yeah, you know the one I’m talking about. The kind women want and other men want to be. Not that I’m complaining, far from it. This is a charmed life I lead. But there are sacrifices. Anonymity. Privacy. Love.
Things that I didn’t know to value highly when I had them.
Don’t take that as a complaint, by the way. My life is a steady stream of… whatever the hell I want, actually. Trips around the world, priceless jewels, fast cars, and even faster women.
But lately, I’ve had more questions than answers. Not to sound too hipster but I just want more. More of what exactly, I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m just trying to understand this circle of life we’re all caught in. We wake up, only to work long hours, to eat, sleep and then do it all over again. Friends drift away, family betrays family and then you kick it and leave the results of all your hard work to someone else.
What’s the point of all this?
.
.
.
Oh, you’re waiting for me to give you an answer? You thought this was why you were here, huh? For me to pull you close, whisper in your ear and tell you all the secrets of success?
Well, I can’t do that. Not that I don’t want to. I’d show you where the keys to the castle were hidden if I knew. But I don’t. Haven’t you figured that out yet? That’s why we’re both here.
Because I don’t fucking know.
1
* * *
Aesthetics are everything. Yes, we’ve all heard the usual drivel. What is it that people always say?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Beauty is only skin deep.
Well, ladies and gentlemen, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but those people are liars. After all, I’ve never seen anyone at a beauty pageant put the crown on a sweet personality.
No, it’s what’s on the outside that counts in this cutthroat world and we’ve turned the pursuit of beauty into a cross-cultural obsession. Humanity has always appreciated beauty, this is true, but never before have we made it so socially acceptable to crave it. In the past it was considered a sin to covet attractiveness but now people livestream going to the plastic surgeon’s office to get a nose job. It’s trendy to chase beauty.
And I would know all about it. I’m famous for creating the trends the world loves to chase.
My eyes move around the room without really taking any of it in. All I get is an impression of opulence, high ceilings, glittering chandeliers and soft light. The scene could easily come from a movie. The ballroom in the hotel is the height of elegance with marble floors and tall doors leading out to balconies that overlook the gardens. Waiters roam the crowd offering all manner of culinary delights and an endless stream of champagne. I’m surrounded by beauty.
Too bad I couldn’t give less than a damn about any of it.
A man steps into my path and holds out his hand to shake. “Mr. Lavin. Pleasure to see you here. I’m Timothy Armand.”
Not given much of a choice, I accept the handshake with resignation. It was foolish to think that I’d get a few moments alone to gather my thoughts before the wolves descended. The man is young with light brown hair slicked back with far too much pomade and is wearing a black suit that is definitely off-the-rack. The sleeves are slightly too short and the inseam is so high I’m surprised he’s not a soprano by now.
“Sir, your last collection was transcendent. I’m a designer, too. Right now I work for Posture, an up-and-coming fashion blog. Would you be willing–”
I paste on a smile. “All interview requests need to go through my assistant. Call the office and we’ll get you scheduled.” After a quick pat on the back, I leave him still stammering after me.
Everyone at the 22nd annual International Fashion World Gala is wearing one of a kind creations designed to showcase their skill and creativity. I recognize most of the other attendees as either my colleagues, competitors or models who work frequently in the industry. Our community is a small but competitive one and it’s important to know your environment. If this event had been for any other organization, I would have skipped it and spent the night romancing a bottle of scotch.
Tonight, I’m wearing a traditional tuxedo however instead of silk or satin on the lapels, I used feathers. Each one is hand stitched to create the effect of wings. The theme for tonight’s gala is “Animal Instincts” and some of my peers have taken it quite seriously. A woman glides by wearing a bodycon dress that is so tight its panther design looks like her skin color. I turn slightly to watch her progress and then have to hold in a laugh when I see the ribbon around her waist has been braided in the back to mimic a panther’s tail.
Interesting.
This is the part that keeps me coming back. I live for the ingenuity and creativity fashion design is known for. It’s what kept me going when no one knew who I was or cared. I was fortunate to come from a wealthy family but with wealth often comes certain expectations. Fashion is not the career my parents would have chosen and in the beginning they didn’t even pretend to hide their disappointment. They came around later but the early days were rough.
This is not an easy business to enter without a support system.
I turn and catch sight of the young man I met earlier. Timothy. He’s standing alone and looking around the room with trepidation. He doesn’t appea
r to know anyone here. My mind flashes back to the first time I attended this gala. No one made the effort to make me feel welcome either.
Damn it.
I grab another flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Timothy’s eyes spark as I approach.
“Don’t get discouraged if no one will talk to you. They didn’t talk to me either when I first arrived on the scene ten years ago. Most of the people I met were twats, actually.”
His mouth falls open slightly before he chokes out a surprised laugh. “Good to know. I was wondering if I had bad breath or something.”
At least he’s got a sense of humor. He’s leagues ahead of where I was when I started. I spent far too many years caring about what the people in this room thought of me.
“When you call my office, tell them to put you on the new designers list. You’ll get scheduled faster that way.”
Every few months, I make it a point to reach out to newer designers. They can ask questions or simply get my opinion on something they’re working on. Mentorship is something I feel strongly about and it benefits me, too. Seeing what the next generation in fashion is doing keeps me fresh and challenges me not to get complacent.
“Thank you, sir.” He pumps my hand enthusiastically and despite my general dislike of interviews, I make a mental note to save something special to show him when we meet again.
I remember all too well what it’s like to be just starting out and hungry for someone, anyone, to give you a chance.
Walking faster now, I pause briefly to compliment an old friend on the dress his model is wearing. The double doors leading to the balcony loom ahead and I let out a sigh of relief as I reach for the handle.
“Andre. Where are you going, mio figlio?”
And… denied.
“Evening, mother.” My hand drops from the handle of the doors as I turn around.
My mother narrows her eyes slightly as she looks between me and the doors. “You weren’t leaving already, were you? I’ve told you, networking is so important. Now more than ever.”
“Of course. I was only going to get some air. It can get quite stifling at these events.”
She waves that away with an impatient hand. “No time for that now. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
It’s effort to hold in a long-suffering sigh but I follow behind dutifully as she leads me toward the center of the room. Fashion designer wasn’t exactly her first choice of career for her eldest son but she has invested large amounts of the money she inherited from her parents into my business. Making nice with her friends is the least I can do. I’ll just say hello and then make my escape.
“Here he is!” My mother pauses next to a group of people and I struggle to arrange my face into something resembling interest.
“Andre, this is Mr. Gabriel Knight and his wife, Hannah.” My mother turns to a young blonde woman standing right behind them. “And this is their lovely daughter, Elisabetta.”
The young woman steps forward and when she sees me the look of boredom on her face vanishes instantly. She tucks a stray curl behind her ear nervously. “Oh hello! It’s so nice to meet you. Your mother has told us so much about you. I feel like we’re old friends already!”
My mother moves so that Elisabetta can step closer. When our eyes meet, my mother shrugs innocently.
Escape isn’t going to come easily.
By the time I get away, it’s an hour later and I’m wishing the feathers around my neck could actually fly me away. I finally gave up all semblance of civility and just walked away from Elisabetta mid-sentence. I’m not the most patient man even on a good day and right now I need some air. Her fake laugh and cloying perfume gave me a headache.
When I finally push my way through the crowd to reach the balcony doors, the humid air slaps me in the face. I’m probably going to regret my choice of attire tonight, tuxedos and humidity don’t mix, but I’m too happy to escape the horde inside to care. Hell, I’d rather sweat out here alone than be comfortable in the air conditioning in the midst of vultures.
But as I step closer to the railing, I become aware that I’m not alone. My mood plummets until I recognize the man hiding in the shadows. His dark hair, the exact same shade as mine, is tousled and there’s an unlit cigarette clamped between his lips.
“You’re hiding out too, I see.”
My younger brother, Philippe, straightens slightly and flashes a tight smile. “Mamma is driving me crazy. I had to make up an excuse to get away.” He takes the cigarette from between his teeth. “I don’t even smoke.”
We both chuckle at that. I’m not surprised he’s willing to feign nicotine addiction. It’s actually rather brilliant. Maybe I should come up with a convenient excuse for why I need to step outside often.
That could turn out to be quite useful considering my mother’s current mission to shove every woman she knows of childbearing age in my direction. I hadn’t realized Philippe was getting the same treatment.
“At least you found somewhere to hide. I got caught and just spent the last hour talking to a woman who has no further ambition in life than wearing more expensive shoes than her friends.”
Suddenly it all comes down on me at once and I am tired. I feel like a piece of fabric that has been stretched until it’s frayed and thin. And I’m starting to not even recognize myself.
“Do you ever get tired of this?” I gesture around us. “Tired of the fake people, the gossip, the drama?”
He shrugs. “Of course. But what can you do? This is part of our world and always has been. Remember when Papa was alive and he would throw those parties?”
Now that brings a genuine smile to my face. My parents used to entertain frequently and of course, Philippe and I were required to attend the events. The world we were born into is obsessed with social standing and appearances. My father never seemed to enjoy those parties the way my mother did. For him, it was a labor of love for the woman he adored.
“How I hated those parties. And now…”
“Now you would give anything to attend just to see him again.” Philippe nods in understanding. “Believe me, I know. He would be proud of you, you know?”
The statement hits me square in the chest. There’s a part of me that wonders if he would be. Not about me, I know that he loved me. But sometimes I get a sick feeling when I imagine what he’d think of my newfound fame and all the accolades I’ve wracked up.
Nicholas Lavin was not a flashy man or even one who basked in the limelight. He was a quiet man who fell in love with a woman from a different social class. He worked night and day to make his financial services company the best so he could prove himself worthy of her. Nothing can ever touch the memories I have of him. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for his family. And he loved my mother with all his heart until the day he died.
“This isn’t exactly what he wanted for us. I think he tried to steer us on the path of integrity instead of chasing money and status. If high society hadn’t been so important to Mamma, I think he would have gladly given it all up to go live quietly in the country somewhere.”
Philippe tilts his head slightly as he looks at me. After a moment, it makes me uncomfortable. I love my brother, partially because he’s one of the few people in the world that truly knows me. Which can be simultaneously heartwarming and annoying. Especially moments like this when my emotions are churning and I’m not even sure what I’m feeling.
“You’ve been unhappy for quite some time. I’d hoped you’d figure out the why and move on but I don’t see that happening.” He leans against the railing and looks out at the view of the city. “You can talk to me, you know that right?”
“I do know that. If I knew what to say, I would. I’m just… tired, I suppose.”
He raises an eyebrow at that. “This is coming from the man who rarely sleeps? What’s really going on with you? Look at all that you’ve achieved. All that you’ve done. What more could you want?”
His voice is soft which blunts the h
arsh tone of the questions. It always makes it easier for me to truly think about the answers.
What do I want?
Everything I’ve ever wanted is now within reach. Is that not the definition of happiness? I think of the penthouse apartment that is being readied for me even as we speak. Just a few years ago I would have been excited about it. But now it’s just one more piece of real estate that I’ve acquired.
Just another empty home to fill.
“It all seems so pointless. I’ve done so much but at the end of the day I’m still alone with no one to share it with. The people I spend the most time with are on my payroll. Every smile, every conversation, is part of their workday. All I ever wanted was success but now that it’s here, it brings its own problems.”
He sighs. “I know that day on the red carpet affected you.”
My hands clench on the balcony rail. “Not talking about that.”
The idea that a young fan almost lost her life because of her obsession with me isn’t something I’m ready to deal with.
Security moved quickly to contain the situation and my team was able to keep the worst details of the incident out of the news. But there are still a few who know what happened. Kate has been monitored the young girl’s care and we anonymously donated money to help her. Every once in a while someone tries to talk about it with me but I’m just not ready to go there yet.
Philippe shakes his head. “I hear you, brother. But this is the life we lead. The money will always attract people who want things. But what’s the alternative? I’m sure poor men have it much harder. Try meeting a woman as a regular guy. Take off the perfectly tailored suit and the Rolex.”