While Riley showered, Ashe made breakfast. The Full English Fry-Up, he called it, which consisted of fried eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, baked beans and mushrooms. It was way too much meat for his taste but if there was anything that reminded him of home other than his mother's shepherd pies he loved so much, it was breakfasts like this, and sitting across from Riley as they'd talked about everything and anything that came to mind. He loved to listen to her talk about anything, and as she did, her hands and arms would be moving wildly, emphasizing some piece of information made more interesting by the movement of her hands.

And how he loved watching her hands move about her when she talked, especially when she was excited about something. Ashe would never make her change anything, especially not that.

Have you noticed, Master Ashe, that my slave no longer uses her hands when she talks? It's now always on her lap, palms up in supplication? Ready to serve me. One day you will learn how to curb such behavior and make them do your bidding - whatever it may be.

The memory jarred him and Ashe felt as if all air had left the room at the vision that came to his mind, of men and women walking with their submissives next to them, some of them with their collars, its attached chain held by their respective Master. It was his first time inside Club Fet, he remembered now. He'd been seeing Catriona for two years and though she begged him to move in with her, he'd always refused. He and his friends, Ben and Lance, shared a flat in Hackney then. And he was proud. Sometimes, too proud.

But that first night inside Club Fet, where he finally came to see what men and women from high positions paid so much money to enjoy, something inside him awoke. Ashe remembered stepping inside the Romper Room, which wasn't exactly as innocent as it sounded. And within it, the sign Her Dungeon above an ornately carved door led men - bankers, barristers, even an earl - into Mistress Cat's lair where they did things to please her, at her bidding. It was through that door that he saw for the first time what Catriona did while he was out pubbing with his mates, or rehearsing lines for the latest play.

Will you be next? She had asked him, surprised to see him watching her torment a banker by the name of Jim, though within the Dungeon, his name was simply Slave.

I will never be anyone's submissive. Not even yours.

Not even if I beg you? She said this in a low voice as she drew closer to him, a whip in her hand and out of earshot of her current slave on his hands and knees behind her.

Then you're not exactly the Dominatrix you say you are - if you have to beg, he said.

Catriona smiled then, her cat-eyes moving down his body, her voice lowering as she whispered in his ear, For you, I just might have to. Beg, that is...Master Ashe.

"Do you need any help?"

Riley's voice startled him and Ashe almost dropped the plate he was holding in his hand. Riley stood behind him, bringing her arms around him as she leaned her head against his back. Then her arms relaxed. "You're tense. Is everything alright?"

He looked behind him to see her big blue eyes gazing up at him, and he smiled. "It is now."

"Why don't I make the coffee?" She said, extricating her arms from around him but Ashe turned to face her.

"You know I love you, Riley. Don't you?" He murmured.

"Of course. And I love you, too," she said, biting her lower lip. "Can I make the coffee first before we start talking serious stuff?"

Ashe laughed, the sight of her smile lighting up his day, banishing memories of his past, at least for right now. "Of course, flower. Go ahead."

Ashe set the table while she worked the espresso machine that he'd ordered specifically for her. In her apartment, she only had a moka pot, a small stainless steel contraption that went on the stove top, and while it was perfect for her tiny space, Ashe knew she worked faster with a commercial grade espresso machine. Muscle memory made her work so much easier - not that making espressos at home was work. She needed her caffeine like the air she breathed.

After making espressos for both of them, she joined him at the breakfast table where he asked her once more about moving in with him.

This time, Riley didn't say no right away. She chewed on a piece of toast as she watched him, arching her left eyebrow as she did so.

"We've only been seeing each other for six months," she said. "Five months even, since we didn't babysit the triplets till October or so."

"I usually count from the day we first met," Ashe grinned. "Still, who said there's a timetable before people can move in together? Or is there?"

She shrugged. "What am I going to do with my place?"

"Sublet it," Ashe suggested.

"But what if you want to be alone?"

"I've got two big bedrooms, a den and a huge living room, Riley," Ashe said, smiling. "There's enough room for the three of us in here."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean - the three of us?"

"Miss Bailey," Ashe grinned.

"Oh, yes," she laughed. "But she's more a half of one. So that would be two-and-a-half of us."

"Yes," Ashe said. "That cat tree in the corner won't climb itself, you know. It's waiting for Miss Bailey."

"I'll think about it," she said, before eyeing him suspiciously. "But if you think I'm going to be your sex slave or something like that -"

"Riley..." Ashe said slowly as Riley giggled.

"- I'll have to think about that part. I'll probably need a job description."

"Riley..." Ashe warned her again, though he couldn't help but grin. "No sex slaves need apply, flower. You - and just you being yourself - are more than enough for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After breakfast, they spent the rest of the afternoon snuggled in front of the fire, looking through Riley's picture book as she expounded on each page, about what she'd done as a child that inspired each rhyme and pictures, of the events that led to this or that day. This time, she didn't break down, nor did she read the lines aloud either, which was fine with Ashe. He didn't know if he could handle another breakdown without wanting to punch something in the process. Nothing made him feel more useless than knowing he was helpless against stopping the tears that flowed down her face, like they did last night, though he knew that simply being there for her was probably the best thing he could have done.

Besides, what else could Ashe say?

Still, there was one more thing to do, and he needed to do it before work would swallow him up the next day and the days after, for a total of about thirteen weeks. With one week left for rehearsals and appearances to promote the play, and then the opening night, it would be chaotic from then on. His days would consist of barely speaking to preserve his voice, and in between performances, rest.

It was a grueling schedule, to be sure, but Ashe had chosen it himself. Stage was his first love after all, and although he may have a string of movie roles under his belt, and more roles yet to film - from starring roles to supporting yet scene-stealing ones that left people still discussing about them in online blogs and forums - it was stage that he yearned to return to. There was something challenging about having to deliver lines in full, with no chance for retakes, and seeing the audience's reaction right in front of him. It scared him to death. But it also excited him to no end. It was his drug of choice, the adrenaline rush of being onstage and nailing every line, every emotion, every beat.

Riley would be there on opening night, flanked by Ben, Melissa, Lance and Lindsay. It would be the first time she'd see him perform onstage and Ashe had to admit, that idea - of Riley seeing him onstage - was scarier than anything he'd ever felt before. But he also wanted her to be proud of him. Being a movie star was one thing, what with the retakes and the perfection on digital film meant to last forever, but as a stage actor, there was no denying the rush behind the knowledge that there'd only be one chance to get it right with every performance, no matter how tired he may feel - or how scared.

But first, Ashe reminded himself again, stopping himself from getting lost too deep in his thoughts, there was what Sid Eames told him.

"Riley, we need to talk," Ashe said as Riley closed her mother's picture book and set it on her lap.

"But we've been talking all night," she pouted.

"I know we have," Ashe said. "But if I don't tell you this now, I'd be withholding information that was meant for your ears. And I can't bear to keep holding on to it by myself."

She frowned, sitting up. "What is it?"

Ashe repositioned himself, so that they were sitting on the couch, facing each other, Riley's picture book between them.

"Your father told me something when he gave me this book," Ashe said. "Let's just say that the conversation didn't end too well, even though he handed me this book willingly. He said it had been in his garage all that time, and he found it."

"So that's why it's in great condition," Riley said, looking down at the book before turning to look at him again. "I still can't believe you were brave enough to go to him and ask him about this book, and I sure hope you didn't have to listen to his crap because that's just the way he is, at least to me. He's much nicer to Paige, but to me - well, he's mean, though I'm used to it. And I'm not just saying to say it, Ashe. I mean, he still blames me for mom dying -"

Riley was rambling now, as if it was her fault that Sid was a mean person. But Ashe knew better. She rambled when she was nervous, when she needed something to fill in the spaces in an effort to understand something. It was her thinking things out loud, processing like she always did. It was why she turned to heroin years earlier, she told him once, to silence the endless questions, the nagging self-doubt about her self-worth.

Ashe took her hands and held them between his own, and she stopped speaking, a worried expression settling upon her features. "It must be bad," she murmured. "You're only like this if it's really bad, like that time when -"

"Riley, he told me you're not his daughter."

She frowned, and Ashe wondered if she hadn't heard him. He had interrupted her train of thought after all.

"What did you say?" She asked.

"When I asked him why he was so hard on you, even though you were just a child, he said it was because you weren't his daughter," Ashe said, keeping her hands between his own. "And he said it again, in case I didn't hear him correctly. You're not his."

"But -" Riley's eyelids fluttered, her gaze lowering towards the book where their hands rested, her hands held in his. Then she began to chuckle drily.

"Why does that sound so much better than it should?" She asked, frowning again. "And why do I feel so good hearing that when I shouldn't? Are you sure he said that? He gets drunk and says things sometimes -"

"It's what he said, Riley. I heard it." He didn't know what else to say.

"Does Paige know? What about Gareth?" She asked. "Or am I the only one who doesn't know? Didn't know?"

"I don't know, Riley. He just said it to me and it might not even be true -"

"My dad never lies," she said, pulling her hands away. "He's an asshole and a drunk, yes - first grade, the very best. But he never lies. Never."

"Then I don't know what else to say, Riley."

"Paige must have known," Riley said, getting up from the couch and pacing in front of him. "But if she knew, she would have told me, given me a clue or something." Then she chuckled. "But then, she's also hidden the fact that Gareth's the father of her kids - who the fuck am I kidding?"

"Riley, I'm so sorry -"

"But then, even if everyone else knew, just like they did that $20,000 that was left for me and I kept thinking it was from Gareth, that would mean that mom -"

She looked at him, her blue eyes wide. "Are you sure that's what he said? Are you really - really - sure?"

Ashe nodded. There was no point in wishing he had never heard of the picture book at all, which meant that he would never have had any reason to meet Sid Eames in the first place. But the picture book was still the best present Riley could have gotten - she got a piece of her mother back after all. But the knowledge that came with it was something Ashe had never anticipated, and judging from the look on her face, neither did Riley.

He saw confusion, anger, and fear on her face, and then it hit him. Riley's whole identity - who she was - was now to be questioned and doubted, and in the process, the memories of her mother now tainted by a new reality that Sid, in his malice, had probably intended his revelation to do.

Ashe cursed under his breath. "God, Riley, I'm so sorry," he whispered, closing the space between them as he got up from the couch and gathered her in his arms. He didn't care whether she protested or not, a new set of sobs muffled against his chest as she shouted out her frustration this time, her fists pounding against his shoulder blades. She could have pushed him away, but she didn't.

Suddenly Ashe's busy schedule and his petty worries paled in comparison. Even the trouble looming in the horizon by the name of Catriona Marks seemed trivial, for nothing she could do or say about him or his past could match the storm that Riley found herself in right now.

And there was no denying that Riley was the most important force in his life - his little flower - and Ashe couldn't let her go through this storm alone. Not this.

Not ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this installment of Ashe and Riley's latest adventure. It's going to get edgier from here on (if it hasn't already) but I hope you like it just the same. If you enjoyed this chapter, please vote, and do comment. I'd love to hear what you think!