Chapter 4 - Loving Theodore Ashford Was the Easy PartClare had always imagined that finally being loved by Theodore Ashford would solve everything.
For years, Theo had existed in her mind as the impossible ending to a story she had never been allowed to finish. He was the childhood crush who had almost kissed her beside a swimming pool, the arrogant teenager who had unknowingly broken her heart, the man who disappeared to London and returned nine years later with blue eyes, expensive suits, and a determination that had slowly dismantled every wall she had built around herself.
When he finally told her he loved her, Clare thought the difficult part was over.
She was wrong.
Loving Theodore was surprisingly easy.
Being Theodore Ashford’s girlfriend was something else entirely.
It began on a Tuesday morning when Clare walked out of her apartment carrying two design portfolios, a coffee, her handbag, and absolutely no patience.
A black SUV was parked directly outside.
She stopped.
The rear door opened.
Theo stepped out wearing a charcoal suit and the expression of a man who had already been awake for several hours making decisions involving millions of dollars.
“Good morning.”
Clare looked from him to the car.
“What are you doing here?”
“Picking you up.”
“I have a car.”
“I know.”
“I can drive.”
“I’m aware.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Then why are you standing outside my apartment at seven thirty in the morning looking like a very expensive chauffeur?”
Theo took the portfolios from her arms before she could stop him.
“Because your car is at the mechanic.”
Clare froze.
“How do you know my car is at the mechanic?”
“You complained about the brakes making a weird noise yesterday.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I called Owen.”
“Of course you did.”
Theo smiled.
Clare sighed dramatically but climbed into the SUV.
Ten minutes later, while Theo answered emails beside her, Clare noticed the driver taking a route completely different from the direction of her studio.
“Theodore.”
He continued typing.
“Yes?”
“Where are we going?”
“To breakfast.”
“I have a meeting at eight thirty.”
“You’ll be there.”
“I didn’t agree to breakfast.”
“You skipped dinner last night because you were working.”
Clare turned toward him slowly.
“Are you monitoring my meals now?”
Theo finally put his phone away.
“No.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I merely notice things.”
“That sounds suspiciously like monitoring with romantic vocabulary.”
He laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet you spent months chasing me.”
“Best decision I ever made.”
The answer came so naturally that Clare’s irritation disappeared against her will.
She hated how easily he could do that.
They stopped at a small bakery ten minutes from her studio. Theo had already ordered her favorite cinnamon pastry and coffee exactly the way she liked it.
Clare stared at the cup.
“No.”
“What?”
“You remembered the ridiculous order.”
“Two shots, oat milk, one pump vanilla, no foam.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“I’m attentive.”
“You’re obsessive.”
“Only about you.”
She tried not to smile.
She failed.
That had become their rhythm during the past six months.
Theo remembered everything.
The restaurant she casually mentioned wanting to visit.
The designer she admired.
The song she hated because it reminded her of high school.
The fact that she preferred daisies to roses despite the fortune he had initially wasted sending her enormous bouquets.
The exact brand of cheap strawberry candy she loved even though she could afford anything she wanted.
It should have been suffocating.
Instead, it made Clare feel seen in a way she had spent years believing she never would be.
But there were moments when the enormous difference between their lives became impossible to ignore.
That afternoon, Clare returned to her studio after meeting a new client and found three photographers standing across the street.
At first, she assumed they were waiting for someone else.
Then one of them raised his camera.
“Clare!”
Her steps slowed.
Another photographer approached.
“Clare Montgomery, is it true Theodore Ashford is buying you a penthouse?”
“What?”
“Are you moving in together?”
“Is there an engagement?”
“How does your family feel about the Ashford fortune?”
Clare stood frozen.
Flashes exploded around her.
She had never experienced anything like it.
Her design work had earned recognition in industry circles, but nobody had ever waited outside her studio to photograph her buying coffee.
“Clare, over here!”
“Are you planning to marry Theodore?”
“Did he finance your new collection?”
That one hit differently.
Clare’s head snapped toward the reporter.
“What?”
“The new collection. Did Ashford Industries invest?”
“No.”
“So Theodore didn’t fund your career?”
“My career existed before Theodore returned from London.”
“But his name certainly increased your visibility.”
Anger burned through her shock.
“My work increased my visibility.”
Before the reporter could respond, a man in a dark suit stepped between them.
Then another.
Theo’s security.
Clare recognized both men from corporate events.
One opened the studio door.
“Ms. Montgomery, please go inside.”
Clare obeyed because arguing on the sidewalk would only create more photographs.
The moment the door closed behind her, she called Theo.
He answered after one ring.
“Clare?”
“Did you send security to my studio?”
Silence.
Wrong move.
“Theo.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why?”
“I received information that photographers might start following you.”
Clare closed her eyes.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“You put security outside my workplace without telling me.”
“They were supposed to remain discreet.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Theo exhaled slowly.
“I’m coming over.”
“No.”
“Clare.”
“I have work.”
“We need to talk.”
“We definitely do. Tonight.”
She ended the call.
Her assistant, Mia, cautiously looked around the partition separating their desks.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
Mia hesitated.
“For what it’s worth, your boyfriend’s security guy is terrifying. One photographer practically teleported across the street when he looked at him.”
Clare laughed despite herself.
“That is not helping.”
“Sorry.”
Clare sank into her chair.
For the next three hours she attempted to work.
She failed miserably.
The reporter’s question remained stuck in her head.
Did Theodore Ashford finance your career?
It should not have bothered her.
Anyone who mattered knew the truth. Clare had worked for years to build her reputation. She had taken tiny commissions nobody wanted, spent sleepless nights preparing portfolios, endured clients who requested endless changes, and reinvested almost everything she earned into her studio.
Theo had nothing to do with that.
But now people would wonder.
At six thirty, when Clare finally left, Theo was waiting outside.
Not inside the SUV.
Outside.
He leaned against the vehicle with his coat open and his hands in his pockets.
The photographers were gone.
His expression told her he knew she was angry.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Can we talk?”
Clare opened the passenger door herself.
“At my apartment.”
The drive was quiet.
Once they were inside, she dropped her purse on the kitchen counter.
Theo remained standing several feet away.
Smart man.
“You should have told me,” Clare said.
“I know.”
“You don’t get to make decisions about my life because you think you’re protecting me.”
“I know.”
She blinked.
“You’re agreeing suspiciously quickly.”
“Because I realized I handled it badly about ten seconds after you hung up.”
Some of her anger softened.
Not enough.
“Why are there photographers suddenly?”
Theo loosened his tie.
“Someone posted pictures from the Ashford charity dinner last weekend. One gossip site identified you. Other outlets picked it up.”
“And now they care about me because I’m dating you.”
“Yes.”
Clare crossed her arms.
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
“No, Theodore. I really hate it.”
He approached slowly.
“I know you do.”
“They asked if you funded my career.”
His expression changed instantly.
“What?”
“They asked whether Ashford money financed my new collection.”
Theo’s jaw tightened.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s ridiculous. People will believe whatever story sounds interesting.”
“Then we correct it.”
“How?”
“I can have communications release a statement.”
“No.”
“Clare—”
“No corporate statement. No Ashford legal team threatening websites. That makes it look worse.”
He stopped.
“What do you want me to do?”
The question surprised her.
Months ago, Theo would have immediately tried to solve the problem.
Now he was asking.
Clare looked at him for several seconds.
“I need you to trust me to handle my own career.”
“I do.”
“And I need you to understand that protecting me doesn’t mean controlling everything around me.”
Theo’s expression tightened with discomfort.
“That may take practice.”
“I figured.”
“My instinct when something threatens someone I love is to remove the threat.”
“I’m not a hostile acquisition.”
“No. Hostile acquisitions are easier.”
Clare snorted.
His mouth lifted slightly.
Then he became serious again.
“I’m sorry.”
The simplicity of it disarmed her.
“For sending security?”
“For not asking first.”
He stepped closer.
“They can stay if you want them. They disappear if you don’t. Your decision.”
Clare studied him.
“Maybe one person. At a distance. Until the photographers lose interest.”
“Done.”
“And no reporting my movements to you.”
Theo looked suspiciously uncomfortable.
“Theodore.”
“Fine.”
“No tracking my phone.”
“I don’t track your phone.”
“Good.”
“I considered it.”
She stared at him.
He raised both hands.
“I said considered.”
“You’re insane.”
“You were followed by photographers.”
“That does not make secretly tracking me normal.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I’m learning.”
She tried to remain angry.
Unfortunately, he looked genuinely ashamed.
Clare stepped closer and straightened his tie, which she had just watched him loosen.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Theo smiled.
“So I’m forgiven?”
“Partially.”
“I can work with partially.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist.
Clare allowed herself to lean against him.
For a moment, everything felt quiet again.
Then Theo’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He declined the call.
“Nothing.”
Clare immediately became suspicious.
“That was absolutely not nothing.”
“My mother.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“She’s probably calling about Sunday.”
“What’s Sunday?”
Theo looked as though he would rather negotiate with international regulators.
“My grandmother’s birthday.”
Clare waited.
“And?”
“And the entire Ashford family will be there.”
“That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“You have never met my extended family.”
“I survived you.”
“That is different.”
“Theodore, how bad can they possibly be?”
He looked at her with enough seriousness that she almost laughed.
“My aunt Caroline once made a woman cry because she used the wrong fork.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
Clare stared at him.
“And your mother wants me there?”
“My mother loves you.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Yes. She wants you there.”
“Do you want me there?”
Theo’s answer was immediate.
“Always.”
Something warm spread through her chest.
“Then I’ll go.”
He kissed her forehead.
“You may regret that confidence.”
Sunday arrived with terrifying speed.
The Ashford estate was even more intimidating than Clare remembered from childhood because this time she entered not as Owen’s annoying little sister trailing behind the boys.
She entered holding Theodore Ashford’s hand.
The dining room contained twenty-four people.
Clare knew perhaps six.
Theo leaned close.
“Still want to stay?”
She squeezed his fingers.
“I’m not afraid of rich people.”
“You should be afraid of Caroline.”
“I heard that.”
A woman in a crimson dress approached.
She was perhaps fifty-five, elegant, perfectly composed, and looked Clare over with such precision that Clare almost checked whether she had accidentally put on flip-flops with socks again.
“Clare Montgomery.”
“Aunt Caroline,” Theo said flatly.
Caroline ignored him.
“So you’re the young woman everyone has been talking about.”
Clare smiled politely.
“I hope they’ve been saying nice things.”
“Some have.”
The implication was deliberate.
Theo’s hand tightened around Clare’s.
She squeezed back.
Do not start a war.
His jaw loosened slightly.
Caroline smiled.
“You’re a designer?”
“Yes.”
“Interior design?”
“Primarily spatial and experiential design, though I also create independent installations.”
“How artistic.”
There it was.
A perfectly polite insult.
Clare smiled brighter.
“I enjoy it.”
“And Theodore supports this?”
Clare felt Theo’s body tense beside her.
She answered before he could.
“He supports me emotionally. Financially, my clients support me.”
Caroline’s eyebrows lifted.
“Well answered.”
“Thank you.”
The older woman walked away.
Theo leaned toward Clare.
“I’m in love with you.”
“You already told me.”
“I’m telling you again.”
“Because I didn’t stab your aunt with a dessert fork?”
“Among other reasons.”
Dinner began pleasantly enough.
Theo’s parents were warm.
His grandmother adored Clare almost immediately after discovering Clare remembered the lemon cookies she used to serve when Clare visited as a child.
Then the conversation turned toward marriage.
It began innocently.
One cousin mentioned an engagement.
Someone discussed venues.
Then Caroline looked directly at Theo.
“So when are you finally settling down?”
Theo continued cutting his steak.
“I’m thirty-three, not eighty.”
“You’ve spent years dating models and socialites without taking anyone seriously. Now apparently you’ve found someone different.”
Clare felt every eye move toward her.
Theo put his fork down.
“Caroline.”
“What? I’m complimenting her.”
“No, you’re examining her.”
His voice had changed.
Cold.
Corporate.
Dangerous.
Clare touched his knee under the table.
He looked at her.
She gave him a small shake of the head.
I can handle this.
Caroline sipped her wine.
“I’m simply curious whether Clare understands what comes with this family.”
“What exactly comes with it?” Clare asked.
The room became very quiet.
Caroline smiled.
“Responsibility. Expectations. Public attention. Charity boards. Corporate events. Certain standards.”
Clare placed her napkin beside her plate.
“I’m aware Theodore’s life is public.”
“And your career?”
“My career remains my career.”
“Of course. But eventually priorities change.”
Theo’s chair moved slightly.
Clare’s hand tightened on his knee.
“No,” Clare said calmly. “Priorities expand. They don’t necessarily erase each other.”
Caroline tilted her head.
“Ashford wives traditionally dedicate significant time to the family.”
Theo spoke before Clare could.
“Clare is not becoming an Ashford wife.”
Clare’s heart stopped.
The table froze.
Caroline smiled slowly.
“Well. That certainly clarifies things.”
Theo realized too late how the sentence sounded.
Clare removed her hand from his knee.
He immediately turned toward her.
“That came out wrong.”
“Did it?”
“Clare.”
Dinner suddenly felt too warm.
Too crowded.
She stood.
“Excuse me. I need some air.”
She walked out before anyone could stop her.
Theo followed seconds later.
“Clare.”
She continued down the corridor.
“Clare, stop.”
She turned sharply.
“You didn’t have to defend me by announcing to your entire family that I’m never going to be your wife.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
“I meant you are not currently my wife, and Caroline has no right to assign obligations to you based on some hypothetical future.”
Clare stared at him.
“That is possibly the worst clarification I have ever heard.”
Theo closed his eyes briefly.
“Okay.”
She crossed her arms.
“Do you not see a future with me?”
His eyes opened immediately.
“What?”
“Because I see one with you.”
There.
The truth was out.
Vulnerable and frightening.
Clare swallowed.
“I didn’t say tomorrow. I didn’t say next year. But when I chose you, Theo, I didn’t choose you because I thought we’d have fun for a few months.”
His entire expression changed.
“Clare.”
“I’m going home.”
He caught her hand gently.
“No.”
She looked down.
“Let go.”
“I will if you really want me to. But first look at me.”
Against her better judgment, she did.
Theo’s expression was completely stripped of arrogance.
“I absolutely see a future with you.”
Her anger faltered.
“I see every future with you.”
He moved closer.
“The sentence was stupid. I was trying to tell Caroline she had no authority over you. I wasn’t saying I don’t want you as my wife.”
Clare’s breath caught.
Theo seemed to realize what he had just said.
They stared at each other.
“Do you?” she whispered.
His eyes darkened.
“Yes.”
One word.
No jokes.
No hesitation.
Clare’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Someday,” he added quietly. “When you’re ready. When we’re ready. But yes. Absolutely yes.”
She should have been terrified.
Instead, she felt tears burn unexpectedly behind her eyes.
“Theodore Ashford, you are terrible at communication.”
“I’m getting that impression.”
“And your family is terrifying.”
“I warned you.”
“Your aunt hates me.”
“My aunt hates almost everyone.”
Clare laughed despite herself.
Theo relaxed slightly.
“Can I kiss you?”
“You’re asking permission now?”
“I’m learning.”
She grabbed his tie and pulled him toward her.
The kiss erased the last of her anger.
When they separated, Theo rested his forehead against hers.
“One day,” he whispered, “when I ask you properly, I promise it will sound significantly better than what just happened in there.”
Clare smiled.
“You’re already planning it?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Yes.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Theodore.”
“I said someday.”
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet?”
She rolled her eyes.
“And yet I love you.”
From the doorway behind them came Owen’s voice.
“Disgusting.”
They separated.
Owen stood holding two glasses of champagne.
“Mom sent me to make sure Clare hadn’t murdered Theo.”
Clare accepted one glass.
“I considered it.”
Theo took the other.
“I deserved that.”
Owen looked between them.
“So are we going back?”
Clare looked toward the dining room.
Caroline was probably waiting.
Twenty relatives were probably discussing her.
Months ago, Clare might have run.
Nine years ago, she definitely would have.
Now she took Theo’s hand.
“Yes.”
Theo looked surprised.
“You’re sure?”
Clare smiled sweetly.
“Absolutely. Your aunt hasn’t seen stubborn yet.”
Owen laughed.
Theo looked at Clare with open admiration.
And together they walked back into the dining room.
This time Clare did not feel like the awkward girl following Theodore Ashford into his world.
May you like
She walked beside him.
Exactly where she belonged.
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