I knew deep down that the marriage wasn’t legal. I was sixteen when it happened and we’d used a fake ID. I could easily have it annulled, but that would mean I would need to tell people, and I didn’t want to do that. I couldn’t talk about it, I couldn’t tell people what I went though, couldn’t admit the shameful things that had happened to me under his hand. There was no way I was strong enough to look my parents in the eye and tell them that I’d married him. I couldn’t ask them to help me get it annulled because I didn’t want to see that pitying, horrified look that made everything worse. So I buried it so deep that the only outlet it had was through my night terrors. I hid the shame and the terror, and I never let it out. Not ever.

Once my dizziness had subsided, I headed to the bathroom and ran my hand under the cold water, rinsing the blood away, and then pressed it onto a towel until the bleeding stopped. My gaze drifted up to the mirror behind the sink. I frowned at my own reflection, hating myself. I looked like a complete mess. My mascara was smeared under my bloodshot eyes, and my face was pale and sweaty. I splashed some cold water over my face; it felt so good that I decided to go for a shower.

After a long shower, I stepped back into my room. It was barely five in the morning, but I didn’t want to go back to sleep, I couldn’t dream again tonight. Throwing on some jeans and a new shirt, I grabbed my iPod and then headed out of the room. As I opened the door to my hotel suite, I stopped short as Mike looked up at me with wide eyes.

“Annabelle? Is everything okay?” he asked, frowning down at my fully dressed body.

I nodded, sidestepping him and heading for the elevator. “Fine. I’m just going for a walk. I won’t leave the hotel, don’t worry.” I waved my hand over my shoulder dismissively.

He made a kind of scoff sound in the back of his throat as he stepped to my side and reached out, pressing the call button for the elevator for me. “Not on your own, you’re not,” he stated flatly.

I didn’t bother to protest, I knew it was useless anyway. As soon as the elevator arrived and the heavy doors slid open, I slipped in and pressed the lobby button and tried to ignore him as he stepped in beside me.

Unfortunately for me, because of the early hour, the salon and spa were all shut, so the only thing I could do was sit in the lobby and have a drink while Mike went to stand against the wall about twenty feet from me.

After three coffees, it was finally seven o’clock and the place started to wake up a bit. People were coming down for breakfast, and the night staff were going home, to be replaced by new morning staff.

The new barman kept looking over at me somewhat excitedly. I smiled warmly as he brought me another coffee that I hadn’t ordered. He had a newspaper tucked under his arm. “Excuse me, Miss Spencer, do you think I could get your autograph?” he asked nervously.

I burst out laughing. “My autograph? What for?”

He smiled, confused. “Well, you are the President’s daughter, are you not?”

I nodded, frowning. “I guess, but why would you want my autograph?”

He grinned as he pulled the newspaper out from under his arm and held it out to me. “You’re all over the paper.”

I gasped, practically snatching it out of his hand as my heart jumped into my throat. “No way! Seriously?”

He nodded. “Yeah, front page and pages four, five, six and seven,” he stated, shrugging. My eyes wandered the paper as my breathing seemed to falter. On the front page there was a huge picture of my parents as they posed on the red carpet. Just underneath their picture, was one of me and Ashton. My eyes widened as I sat back in my chair, dumbstruck and lost for words.

“Can I read this?” I asked, scanning the text quickly.

“Yeah, sure. When you’re done would you sign it for me?” he asked. I nodded, still not quite knowing what to say. He turned on his heel and strutted back to the bar, leaving me there with my heart in my throat.

I scanned the article quickly. It was all about my dad’s birthday celebrations and a rough guide to what we ate and the decorations inside the ball room. Once I was done with the first page, I flicked through to the continuation part. The next couple of pages were more about the celebrities who attended and who wore what. As I turned the page again, I gasped, and my eyes widened in horror. Pictures of me and Ashton were splashed everywhere. The headline above it: New Celebrity Couple ‘Annaton’.

Chapter Thirty-One

~ Ashton ~

To say that I’d not slept well would be a ridiculous understatement. I hadn’t been able to switch my brain off and stop worrying about Anna all night. My cell phone hadn’t rung though, so either Mike decided not to call me, or she’d had a good night.

Pushing myself out of bed just after seven, I snuck into the shower. My eyes stung with tiredness as I stood under the spray and let the powerful jets loosen my bunched up, tensed muscles.

When I was finished and dressed, I headed back into the room, seeing that Dean was just waking. I forced a smile, hoping I didn’t look as rough as I felt. “Morning, sleep alright?”

He snorted and narrowed his eyes at me. “Not really.”

One of my eyebrows rose in question. “No? How come?”

He sat up, running a hand over his face. “You f**king snore like an elephant with the flu!”

I recoiled, shaking my head and rolling my eyes. “Let me guess, Anna told you to tell me that, right?” She was always trying to make out that I snored; now she obviously had Dean in on it too.