That evening, the play ran for almost three hours. There were no missteps, no mistakes, no missed beats—not that Ashe was expecting any. He was so intent on being Coriolanus that he forgot everything else, forgot that a world existed beyond the stage. As far as he was concerned, there was no audience watching the production and reacting to every word spoken and every action performed. He was in a vacuum of his own making, where he felt safest. Catriona's threat of leaking their contract couldn't touch him there, especially after his conversation with his parents.

There was only the play.

When it was all over, after the standing ovation where he took one bow after another with his co-stars, after he'd looked out into the sea of faces he couldn't place to say a silent prayer of thanks, Ashe broke down in the shower. He didn't know why, but the dam that held all his emotions in check finally broke inside the small shower stall that came with his dressing room. It came after he'd shut the door of his dressing room to well-wishers who'd come to give him flowers and presents of chocolates and candied fruit, telling them that he needed a few minutes to get ready for the after-party and that he'd talk to them there. It came after the realization hit him that the opening night of Coriolanus fell on the anniversary of Hazel's death.

Ashe hadn't cried like this in a long time and it surprised him. Was it cleansing, he wondered, washing away his past: the mistakes he'd made when he'd ignored the signs of Hazel's addiction, and later when he'd put his work first? He'd wanted to make it up to his parents after they'd trusted him to take care of Hazel, only to have her return home a pregnant addict. Five years later she was dead. He'd never faced such thoughts before, because he'd kept himself too busy to do so.

He'd been busy hiding his regret and pain behind a smile, and now it seemed to have caught up with him, making him feel like a fraud. Was that what Catriona had meant last night, when she'd told him he was nothing but a country boy pretending to be someone he wasn't?

Ashe realized at last that this was just part of the process, part and parcel of the long preparation for an ambitious production that would make or break him. As the water ran clear at his feet, the fake blood washed out from his hair and under his fingernails, Ashe turned off the tap and toweled himself dry. He took a deep breath in and out, cleared his throat and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The stage make-up was mostly gone and along with it the tears he had shed. He cleaned off what was left with cotton pads soaked in make-up remover.

Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in his black Gucci suit, wearing a smile he'd practiced earlier in front of the mirror. If it hadn't yet reached his eyes, Ashe would pretend until it did. Dale was waiting for him outside, already carrying gift bags that fans had left by the backstage door. Lance was hovering nervously, glancing at his watch.

"The car's outside," he said. "We have to be at the Pierre in twenty minutes."

"Where's Riley?" asked Ashe, his voice barely audible above the noise around them.

"You have fans outside, Mr. Hunter," said Dale.

"Ashe, see you at the Pierre!" Some of the cast members called out from the other side of the corridor and Ashe waved back before turning to face Lance.

"Where's Riley?" he asked again. He suddenly felt lost without her, floundering in an ocean in search of a lone buoy to hold on to.

"She's in the car," replied Lance. Dale raised his arms, gift bags dangling from his hands.

"There are more of these outside, Mr. Hunter."

"Please leave all presents in the dressing room, Dale," he said as Lance handed him his coat and scarf. "All right, let's go."

"What about your fans?" Dale asked, hurriedly slipping the gift bags inside the dressing room and locking the door. "They've been lined up outside for the past two hours."

"We'll be late!" protested Lance.

"Ten minutes," said Ashe, wrapping the scarf around his neck and heading toward the backstage door. It would be madness out there, he thought, then he remembered the barricades they'd set up around the door which would hopefully speed up the signing of autographs.

"Let's go, then," Lance said with resignation as he pushed open the door and stepped out. Ashe followed him. He knew he would need more than ten minutes to get through the line of people, but there was also the after-party to think of. Then there was Riley whom he couldn't wait to see again, who would ground him and pull him back to what mattered. He just had to get to the car.

It took Ashe fifteen minutes to sign autographs and pose for as many pictures as possible before Lance pulled him away from the barricaded section and rushed him into the waiting limo. The back seat was empty and Ashe almost got out, thinking he was in the wrong car.

"She's waiting for you at the hotel," said Lance as he shut the door. "She was in the usual car, not this limo. This one is courtesy of Reign Studios. Your success onstage tonight is as important to the old man as the movies he's lined up for you to do."

Ashe said nothing and glanced at his watch. His jaw clenched and he could feel himself grinding his teeth. He'd been looking forward to seeing Riley for more than twenty-four hours. Was this what addiction felt like? It scared and excited him.

"Get Coriolanus out of your head and smile, Ashe. It's not the end of the world that Riley's not here," Lance told him, his face softening as he grinned. "You were amazing up there, man. Speaking of which, the reviews should be coming in by now."

"Too soon, surely," replied Ashe, grateful for the distraction.

Lance chuckled as he switched on his phone and scrolled through his messages. "The audience members started tweeting during the interval. The verdict is that they loved it before the interval and they loved it afterward. Someone even took a picture of you taking a bow, which they shouldn't have, and posted it online."

Lance scrolled through the tweets that were tagged CoriolanusBroadway, reading some of them out loud as they drove through the busy streets of Manhattan toward the Pierre Hotel. Ashe smiled as he listened to Lance, recognizing a few names familiar to him from the theater circle. While most of the names meant nothing to them, there were a handful of critics eager to get out their reviews and let their followers know when to expect them.

"Only one person said Tom was better."

Ashe laughed. "Well, that was Tom, after all. Why did they think I agreed to do it on Broadway?"

* * *

By the time they arrived at the Pierre, the press line was more than ready for him. Ashe hadn't meant to be late, but he'd spent fifteen minutes accommodating his fans and then there was Friday night traffic. As they stepped out of the car, blinded by flashbulbs from paparazzi, it didn't seem to matter.

The list of after-party guests was impressive enough to occupy the members of the press, who took pictures and filmed the footage they needed for their respective outlets, attaching the names of non-celebrity partner to their respective celebrities as best they could. After the fiasco in Beverly Hills where Riley had been labeled simply as 'friend', Betty Forster was in attendance to make sure that the photographers and videographers who were taking shots of her client got his partner's name right as well.

It didn't matter that some of the celebrity guests hadn't seen the play. What mattered was the after-party and that they were being seen, their publicists trailing behind them announcing which movie or television show they were currently starring in. It was business as usual, thought Ashe as he scoured the lobby for Riley, reluctant to go through the press line alone even though he'd done so many times before.

Tonight was as much her night as his, even if he were the only one who knew it. When he saw her walking toward him from the bar, he almost stopped breathing. She'd been sitting on one of the stools flanked by Lindsay and Melissa, who stayed where they were as if allowing Riley to make an appearance. Whether that was their plan or not, Ashe was grateful for it.

As he watched her walk toward him, he was in awe of what twenty-four hours could do to a heart. He'd missed her so much, even with all the attention showered on him. It hadn't been cheap to stage the play, which made him one hell of an investment. Ashe realized what a lifeline Riley had become to him. He lifted her hand to his lips, not noticing what she was wearing or who had designed it. He only knew that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"We have to go," Lance was muttering, but Ashe lingered.

"I'll be right there," he replied, unable to tear his eyes from Riley. The red evening gown he now noticed she wore looked stunning on her. It hugged her hourglass figure, and the lace-edged V-neckline accentuated her full breasts while the flared skirt clung to her hips. Her gown was nothing like the two dresses she had brought to the condo the other evening, which he had actually considered quite plain for a big night like this. He trusted both Riley's judgement and that of his stylist, so he had said nothing. Besides, he wasn't the one wearing the dress.

"You were so amazing up there, you made me cry and mess up my mascara," she said as he took her in his arms, careful not to touch her make-up. "Thank goodness Lindsay's so good with make-up or I'd look a fright right now. They booked me a room here, so it was easy to change into this."

As she spoke, Ashe looked at her appreciatively. Lindsay had played up Riley's blue eyes, which he always thought of as one of her best attributes. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and he was glad that she hadn't tied it up in a ponytail as she usually did. She was nervous and it showed, for she was starting to ramble and play with her hair, twining it around her index finger. If she thought no one was watching, she'd probably chew on the ends.

"Thanks, luv, but enough about me," he murmured as he leaned down to kiss her, forgetting about her lipstick. "You look absolutely gorgeous."

"I feel like I'm at a prom or something," she stammered. "Only if I were, I'd probably be wearing one of Paige's last season gowns."

"You're beautiful," Ashe said again, pulling her closer to calm her down before she started talking at a mile a minute. There was still the press line to walk through and he wondered if Melissa and Lindsay had coached her about that, just as they would have advised her about walking in high heels. She must be wearing three-inch-high heels under that gown, he thought, though he changed his mind when he caught a glimpse of black platform lug-soled combat boots when Melissa rushed toward them and fussed over a part of the hem that exposed them.

"Isabella's not happy about the shoes," Riley said. "She said they didn't go with the dress."

"I love them," Ashe grinned.

"Do you know I'm wearing breast tape so I won't have a wardrobe malfunction and flash everyone? " she whispered in his ear.

"That's good because. I have no plans for you to flash anyone but me tonight," he grinned as she wiped her lipstick from his lips. Behind them, Betty was hissing that the press was waiting for him.

"Are you ready, petal?" he asked, holding her hand as he led her across the lobby, barely noticing the people surrounding them. "I'm not letting go of you, you know."

She grinned, though Ashe could feel her shaking as he brought his arm possessively around her waist and drew her close to him. "You'd better not. I'm so nervous that if someone asked me my name, I'd probably tell them it's Vera Wang."

* * * 

Ashe kept Riley by his side as much as possible. When he had to leave her for interviews at the press line or to pose with the other cast members, she was flanked by his team.

Maybe it was because he knew Paige and Clint were in attendance, as were Catriona and Collette. Betty and Lance made sure that their paths never crossed throughout the evening, and although Ashe sometimes felt like the vulnerable king piece on the chessboard, the last thing he wanted was to draw attention away from the production. They'd all worked so hard the last few weeks and they deserved the acclaim, not to be dragged into Ashe's personal drama.

So he kept Riley close to him all night, although his reasons soon became more personal. He admired her in her beautiful red gown, her black platform combat boots peeking beneath the hem of her skirt. He was ashamed to admit that he was eying her like a piece of candy, just as she was doing with him, daring to pinch his ass when she thought no one was looking.

"Sorry to be blunt, but you two should either go upstairs and work off all that eye-fucking you've been doing or just head on home," Lance told him an hour later, making Ashe laugh and Riley turn as red as her dress. They took the hint and, after twenty minutes of thanks and apologies for having to leave early, they dashed into the waiting car and past the paparazzi outside.

The moment the front door closed on the rest of the world, Ashe took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, no longer caring whether he ruined her lipstick. He felt all the tension leave his body, the feel of her in his arms a balm to the anxious thoughts that had plagued him earlier. Her fingers played with his hair as she returned his kisses, her other hand slipping under his jacket to rest along the muscles of his lower back.

For the next few minutes they savored each other slowly. In the silence of the condo it was just the two of them, connecting through lips, hands and eyes. When Ashe finally found his voice it emerged as a croak, cracking from the vocal workout of the day.

"I have to get you out of this dress now."

"Good, because I'm going to let you do the honors with the tape. They're something else. They even cover my nipples in case, you know, they created shadows," she chuckled, pushing the jacket off his shoulders and tossing it onto the couch before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

"Wait," said Ashe, taking the velvet box from the kitchen counter where he'd left it the previous night.

"What is it?"

"Dance with me first," he said, although no music was playing. "We need to put some mileage on those awesome boots of yours."

Riley didn't protest. She simply giggled and allowed him to hold her, her hands on his shoulders as he guided her slowly about the room. Months earlier, they'd done the same thing while vacationing at St. Barts, dancing to music only they could hear, guided by the sound of the surf and their heartbeats. Tonight was similar, just their heartbeats and the sounds of New York at night.

"Ashe, something's bothering you," she murmured, her fingers tracing his jaw. "You're disappearing on me again."

"I'm just nervous," he smiled, his heart racing.

"Why would you be nervous? You were amazing tonight," she whispered. "You had that audience in the palm of your hand."

"I'm nervous about something else, petal," he said, letting go of her hand and retrieving the velvet box from his pocket. Ashe could justify doing this so soon, without telling even his closest friends and family. But all the reasons boiled down to the only one that really mattered: he loved her.

He opened the box between them and plucked a three-carat platinum engagement ring between his thumb and index finger, a large round diamond surrounded by smaller stones glistening in the dim light.

"I love you, Riley Eames. Will you marry me?"

She stared at him, not speaking. Ashe wondered if she'd tell him that it was too soon, that such things took time, as she had when he'd first asked her to move in with him. After all, hadn't some of their friends dated for two years or more before tying the knot? He forced such unwelcome thoughts from his mind, knowing that he was panicking while she looked at him with a furrowed brow.

The words had left his lips long before any doubts crept through his mind, and he knew that no truer words had ever been spoken. He loved her and wanted to marry her. It was as simple as that. After all, that's what he was underneath it all, just a simple man in love with an amazing woman.

"Wait a minute!" she exclaimed as she studied the ring. "How did you know that this is the ring I've always wanted? It's exactly the way I pinned it on – oh."

"I'm one of the thirty-two followers of your online dream board, petal, the one with the dream gown and the dream wedding," confided Ashe, shrugging his shoulders as she stared at him in horror. "Just because I don't publicly participate in social media doesn't stop me from having a private account."

As she brought her hand to her mouth, Ashe watched her face pass through a series of emotions until she began to laugh and cry at the same time. Ashe wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of his index finger. "Do you need time to think about it?"

"What am I, crazy?" she chuckled, her answer muffled by sobs, but Ashe heard it loud and clear. "Yes, Mr. Hunter. My answer is yes."

* * *

Hours later, as Riley lay in his arms after spending twenty minutes admiring her engagement ring and wondering if she could even wear it to work (probably not), Ashe watched her sleep. On the bedside table, the clock glowed 4:25 a.m. He should be tired and he was, but his mind refused to let him sleep. Neither did his phone, for the alerts started coming in half an hour earlier, each buzz reminding him of another new headline.

He reached for his phone and yawning, scrolled through the alerts.

Ashe Hunter's Return to Stage Impresses Critics

Ashe Hunter Triumphs as Coriolanus

Ashe Hunter Brings Star Power To Broadway

There were more alerts coming in, all with his name on the headline but he wasn't interested in any of them, though the congratulatory emails were filling his Inbox as well. That would be his team's job to collect for later. For now, he couldn't help but wait with bated breath for the inevitable.

Twenty minutes later, just as he was drifting off to sleep, it came. Ashe gently slipped his arm from under Riley's head as she turned away from him, pulling the covers over to her side of the bed and leaving Ashe partially uncovered. Chuckling at his blanket hoarder, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.

After he read the notification on his phone, he turned it off and set it back down on the bedside table. Then he exhaled and buried his head in his hands.

What. The. Hell. 

Just because he'd dared say no to Catriona's demands at the risk of her leaking their former BDSM contract to the media didn't mean that he wasn't afraid that she actually would. Sure, it could destroy his well-groomed image in a heartbeat but it wasn't his career Ashe was worried about.

He'd lived with Catriona for five years. He knew how she was whenever she couldn't get what she wanted. And like a cat who'd discovered a new toy, Ashe had a feeling it wasn't him Catriona was determined to destroy now, not when he'd refused her request to help her. It was Riley.

And all this, he was certain, to show him who the true Dominant really was.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Did you know that Loving Ashe and Loving Riley are available on audio, too? It took me over 2 years to find the perfect voice for Ashe and you can hear him by copying or pasting the link below or by clicking the external link: 

https://soundcloud.com/liz-durano/loving-riley-sample