Ava

The moment the doors closed behind me, I knew it was a mistake. The house did not fall short of my expectations. Sleek, expansive. And quiet in a way that felt expensive.

Floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the city with lights that seemed to stretch on forever.

Untouchable.

Just like him.

“You can leave.” He said suddenly.

“What?” I asked, as I turned around.

“The door is still there. If you think this was a mistake.”

It wasn’t conceit, nor rudeness. It wasn’t polite nor was it inviting. It was something I had not encountered before.

“Then why did you bring me here?” I swallowed. “If you thought I would leave?”

“I wanted to see if you would.”

“And?”

“You’re still here.”

There was something about the way he said it. Not victory, not triumph. Something more… complicated.

“I don’t do this…” I said, more to myself than him.

“Neither do I.”

A laugh escaped me.

“What?” He asked.

“I find it hard to believe that.”

“You don’t have to.”

He steps closer, slow, calm, measured.

He’s giving me time to pull away. The right thing to do. But I don’t.

“You’re overthinking this.” He says.

“I’m not thinking enough.”

Because if I was, I would be gone.

Six years. Six years of living behind the walls I had built around myself. Closing myself off to everyone around me. Only Noah mattered, and that was enough.

But now, these walls were breaking. I watched helplessly as they did.

One man.

One night.

“You’re still deciding.” His voice cut through my thoughts.

“I have to make sure I’m not the same girl from back then. I have to make sure I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

“Someone hurt you.” It was calm, soothing.

“That’s not your concern.”

“It’s affecting your decision right now. It is very much my concern.”

He stepped closer.

“I’m not sure about this, Liam. I’d be lost if this ended badly.”

“How are you sure you already aren’t? You live for everyone but yourself.” He was closer now. “I recognize it, because…”

“Because you’re the same.” I responded.

We were in that moment again. At the gala. Nothing mattered, nothing existed, just us. Two people who understood each other more than they dared to admit.

I was in his arms again, but I didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. Because I wanted it just as bad as he did, if not more.

“This is a mistake,” I said, my heart pounding.

“I know.”

“But you aren’t stopping.”

“You’re not asking me to.”

The space between us vanished.

Our lips locked, his hand held me gently, as he pulled me in even closer.

I felt his heat, his presence, his warmth. Something exploded inside me.

It had been long.

It had been too long.

He worked the robes behind my back, and I worked on removing his suit.

I was soon freed from my gown. And like a feather, he lifted me in the air, and carried me deeper into the house.

Our lips never separated. His tongue ran through my mouth hungrily, starved.

He kicked open the door to his bedroom, and lay me gently on the bed. I took off my underwear, and he did the same. Revealing his tumescent hardness.

I blushed in spite of myself.

His lips found mine again, and his fingers were exploring.

I ran my hands across his back and against his rock hard body.

God, he had a great build!

He cupped my breasts lightly, and brushed his thumbs against my nipples. I moaned, softly, as I arched my back.

He went in.

Smooth, gentle, careful. I held on to him tightly, and he went in again, and again.

His speed increased. And with every thrust came the explosion. The sensation I had yearned for, but repressed.

He was moving faster now, taking me with him on his journey to inexplicable bliss. Grabbed onto the sheets around me, as the pleasure was too much to contain. I moaned at his thrusts, willing them to go faster. Harder.

As though reading my mind, he obliged.

He was faster now, but still careful. Thrusting harder, and yet gentle.

And I was nearly at my peak. And he didn’t stop. And he kept going, and it was faster, and faster, and better, until I lost all feeling for a second. Until every inch of me felt it. The indescribable sensation of bliss.

And it filled me. As though stored forever, he released, and released, holding me firmly, as his balls contracted again and again. And then it was over.

He lay weakly on the bed beside me, his tumescence still in me.

He was out of breath, but he was making an effort not to show it.

I touched his face gently, brushing my thumb against it, the face that held nothing but conceit and indifference since I had met him. Was just a facade to conceal the vulnerable man beneath.

“Do you still think this was a mistake?” He asked, staring at me with eyes full of something I hadn’t seen before.

“Yes. But it’s a mistake I don’t regret making.”

And we lay there, each one staring at the other, eyes and hearts full of emotion. And soon, something else.

I wanted to feel it again.

“Sit up.” I said, as I left my position.

He did not protest. He let me lead him to the headboard, and I sat him up against it.

I took his member in my hands, and watched it grow tumescent again. Then I sat on it.

I moved with care, with caution, moving against him with rhythm.

His left hand was wrapped around my waist, and his right gripped the sheets firmly.

I increased the speed, and a low groan came from deep inside him. I rested one arm on the headboard, and another on his face.

I looked into his eyes, and there was no mistaking what was in them.

I closed the distance between us, and locked lips with him, moving at an even faster speed now.

He was reaching deep inside of me, and I pulled away at the raw sensation, hitting my center again and again. I arched my back, running my hand through my hair, removing it from my face as I bounced in him repeatedly.

Once again, I was nearing it, the point of inexplicable bliss.

Liam pulled me in, holding me tightly, as he groaned softly.

He exploded holding me tightly against himself, and so did I.

We soon separated, laying side by side, gasping for air.

Neither of us said a word. We quietly gathered our thoughts, as I wondered how long I had wanted this.

Lying to myself was a part of keeping my feelings safe. It was a part of keeping people out. But now that the walls had finally been torn down, I could be honest.

Had I always wanted Liam?

Liam was soon ready again, and with a ravenous hunger, he entered me. Pulsating as he reached deeper and deeper.

“Oh…fuck.” He exclaimed unconsciously.

I moved with his rhythm, giving in to the pleasure coming from my center. “Oh, I’ve wanted this for so long…”

Soon, we were at the highest peaks again, and gasping for air.

Our rest did not last long. Because soon, we were ready to go again.

***

I open my eyes, and morning light is spilling through the windows. I’m alone.

For a moment

I don’t move, don’t think, don’t feel.

I sit up, and the other side of the bed is empty.

Cold.

Like he was never there at all.

And just like that,

I had made the same mistake twice.

Ava

I don’t cry.

Not anymore. Tears don’t fix anything. I learned that the hard way.

As I stood in Liam Blackwell’s office, less than twelve hours after waking up alone in his bed, I stood there wondering how someone could look the same, and feel so different.

“Is there something you need, Miss Harris?”

The words hit like a slap. A loud painful slap whose sting didn't fade away.

Miss Harris. Not Ava. Not the woman he’d held in his arms the night before. He looked like a stranger sitting from across the office, distant and untouchable.

I gripped the files closely to my chest, not letting the hurt show on my face.

“I came to confirm the staff projections for Q3.” I say, trying my best to steady my voice.

He barely looks up from the documents on his desk.

“Leave it there.”

No hesitation, no inflection, no remorse.

He was void of any sentiment from the night before and all that was left was indifference.

He was going to act like nothing happened.

Like I didn’t happen.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, and I fought back the tears. Breaking down in front of him would be… pathetic.

He looked up with the same gaze he would an employee overstaying their welcome.

“Yes?”

I could leave now. Pretend I wasn’t hurt so bad I could barely move.

“You left.”

Direct.

Straightforward.

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t stay long enough to say anything?” An anger was consuming me, and it was evident.

“That wasn’t necessary.”

Precise. Clean.

He was purposeful with his words. As though he wanted to send a very clear message.

But he already sent the message. When he invited me to the gala. The agreement, the deal.

I was the fool who forgot.

“Right,” I say “Ofcourse.”

I swallowed, gripping so tight I could feel my fingers bore into my skin.

“It was a mistake.” He voiced, keeping the same nonchalant tone.

It hurt so much I began to find the situation funny.

“Wow.” I chuckled. “You move fast.”

“It’s important we make what happened last night clear.”

“Clear?” I was no longer putting in an effort to control my temper. “You disappear without saying anything and you call that clear?”

His eyes dimmed. “I’m calling this clear,” he says, his tone getting colder. “What happened last night shouldn’t have happened.”

Like a blow to the chin.

What happened last night. Getting dressed, getting into his car, getting insulted and then finding warmth in his arms. He had been so different. He had felt so different.

For a moment, I really thought he was different. That he understood me.

“Right…” My voice trailed off. “Got it.” I hated how my emotions were evident in my tone.

And then I stared at his eyes. Cold, unfeeling, remorseless. He had gotten what he wanted, and now he wanted out.

The situation felt nostalgic. Only I wasn’t in the office of a billionaire, I was eighteen again, and in a small restaurant.

“This isn’t really working.”

“I think we should see other people.”

“This complicates things.”

“I want out.”

He had been so charming at first. And I had fallen headfirst. Charmed by his wits and humor, getting me was light work for him. And then he had hurt me.

He had saddled me with a pregnancy and then left. I had college to complete, I had my whole life in front of me. Quitting and aborting the pregnancy was the easiest solution. But it wasn’t the right one.

I had forged through college whilst caring for a child and vowed never to make the same mistake twice.

I built walls to shield me from such hurt. From monsters who charmed their ways into my heart.

And I had fallen again. This time it hurt so much more because I had prepared myself against it. And he had gotten me regardless.

“It won’t happen again.” He said, cutting through my thoughts.

There was a finality to his tone, that felt like he was ripping my heart out.

“Don’t worry.” I swallowed. “I don’t plan on repeating it either.”

His eyes flashed. Not what I saw last night, but not the same as indifference. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was something.

It didn’t last long, as his nonchalant look soon returned. “You should focus on your work.” He paused. “That’s what matters here.”

Distant.

Polite.

Professional.

Like last night had died off, he had reassumed the same Boss-Employee relationship.

Nothing beyond work mattered.

“Yes, what matters,” I repeat softly, coming to terms with the full reality.

I tossed the documents on his desk, and headed for the door.

But it hurt too much. He had hurt me far too much for me to just leave like that. I at least deserved an answer.

“So is this how you do things?” I ask, my hand still on the door.

“Do what?” He asked, confused.

“You use someone to get what you want, and then you toss them aside.”

He sat back. “That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated. Selecting his words very carefully. “It’s me correcting a lapse in judgment.”

It’s cold and unfeeling. The words hit with no emotion behind them. Perhaps if there was, I could console myself with either remorse, anger, or even pity. But there was nothing.

“Thank you.” I said, twisting the doorknob.

“For what?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“For reminding me why I don’t do this.”

And I left. I rushed pass Clara, his secretary, ignoring her inquiring glances.

I needed to get somewhere with privacy. Somewhere I could be alone.

“I’m not really a dancer…”

“You are tonight.”

My eyes felt heavy with tears. I couldn’t… not yet.

“Last night was a mistake.”

“It’s me correcting a lapse in judgment.”

From my nearly blurred vision, I could see an elevator that was inactive. And I prayed from

the bottom of my heart that it was empty.

The doors slid open, and it was. The second they closed behind me, I gave in.

I sat on the floor, and broke down.

Liam

Weakness is expensive.

That was the first thing my father taught me.

The second, never let others know where yours lie.

I should have remembered that last night.

“Your numbers are slipping.” My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

I was brought back to the boardroom meeting. The table surrounded my executives. None of them were staring. I could see them watching.

They were always watching.

I glanced at the documents before me. Quarter projections, acquisition delays, missed opportunities.”

All mine, all recent, and all of them were avoidable.

“I’m aware.” I responded.

“Are you?”

I look up.

Mark Blackwell was a man that raised his voice. He never did. For control was not determined by volume.

“Because from where I’m sitting,” He continued. “You’re losing focus.”

The atmosphere in the room changes, and I could feel the eyes turn.

“If you have something to say, then say it.” I was impatient.

“I do, and I am. You’re losing focus” His cold gaze meets mine.

Cold, calculating, ruthless.

“I’m handling multiple divisions.”

“You’ve always handled multiple divisions. What’s changed?”

Nothing.

Everything.

Hazel eyes. Soft soothing voice. A woman standing out of place in my apartment, making it feel less empty.

I shook it off. It didn’t matter. None of it did.

“Nothing’s changed.” I responded, maintaining eye contact.

My father was not one to look away easily. He had a skill for determining untruths simply by looking into the eyes of his suspect.

Did he know?

He probably did.

He always did.

One of the board members cleared his throat, and began. “I think it’s time we addressed the topic of succession.”

This was where the real conversation started. Not quarterly losses, not minor slips.

This!

This is what mattered.

Power.

The room shifts, interests are piqued and gazes move.

“Go on.” My father says calmly.

“You’ve built this company to the success it is today,” He paused, glaring between us. “But it is time to consider transition. Liam is the natural successor.”

Murmurs of agreement ripple across the table.

Of course they do. I had carried the company on my back for far too long.

It was time I became its head in both function and title.

“Is he?” My father continued.

“Yes… he has shown incredible competence throughout the years.” The man responded.

“Competent isn’t the same as ready.” My father said flatly.

My jaws clenched.

Here we go.

“And what exactly qualifies as ready?” I ask, impatient.

“I think you’re excellent at control. But you need more than that to run this company successfully.” He paused. “You need stability.”

“And what makes you think I’m not stable?” Our gazes were fully locked.

“Lapses in judgement, missed opportunities, unusually quick outbursts.” He said calmly.

I may run the place, but everyone else still reported back to him.

Fucking classic.

“That’s none of your business. And so long as they turn in profits, how I run the company doesn’t matter.” I said.

“But it does matter. It matters a great deal.” He paused, and took on a haughty look. “You lack discipline, Liam. You can’t run a company when you’re acting on impulse.”

The board members shifted uncomfortably.

Good.

They should.

This conversation wasn't about them, but if my father was going to make it everyone’s business, I didn’t plan on backing down.

“What do you propose?” I ask, meeting his gaze.

He leaned back slightly. “When you can prove you’re no longer susceptible to distractions, then we can have this conversation.”

“And turning in profits isn’t enough to prove that?”

“It’s not.”

“Then what is?”

He paused, and then continued. “It’s very simple really,”

It was not simple. Nothing my father proposed was never simple.

He was luring me into a trap.

But first I needed to understand that trap.

“To prove you’re not susceptible to distractions, you must attain stability.”

There it was again. What did he mean by distractions.

“Cut to the chase, Dad.”

“Get married.”

There was a long quiet silence.

Now it was time for the board members to get really uncomfortable.

“Married,” I repeated.

“Yes.” He said, calmly.

“You want me to prove I can run a multi billion dollar company by getting married?”

“I want you to prove to be stable, so you can run a multi billion dollar company.”

“You want optics.”

“I want stability.”

“That has nothing to do with my ability to run the company.”

“It has everything to do with your ability to run the company. A man who cannot manage a home cannot be trusted with a corporation. Your personal life reflects on your corporate life, Liam. I cannot risk handing Blackwell enterprises over to you when you just aren’t ready.”

The look in his eyes make realize he knew more than he was revealing. This had nothing to do with stability, he just wanted to tie me down.

To ensure I never drifted off his reach. He had no intention of retiring early. He would hand me the company when he wanted to, and prove that he knew better.

“What do you know, Dad?”

“You’ve been seen.”

His words are quiet, but they land.

“Seen,” I repeated.

“At the gala. With a woman nobody knows and leaving early.”

He was calm with his words. He had no need to be aggressive. His mere indifference was more terrifying than his anger.

“You left the gala with an unknown woman to God knows where. Not like you.”

And there it was.

Of course he knew.

Of course someone reported back to him.

There was no privacy until I replaced him. He had taught me how to control, and as such he knew how I manipulated.

But his methods were beyond me.

“It was irrelevant.” I say finally.

“Nothing is irrelevant. Not when you’re about to inherit everything.” He said, allowing me to digest his words before proceeding.

“Bring me a wife. One that can strengthen the company’s reputation. Prove you’ve attained stability, and the company is yours.”

The meeting ended shortly after, and I sat there knowing he had me. It was a checkmate.

I had no lover, and I didn’t plan on getting one. Going through the trouble of finding one and getting married all to prove my father wrong would take as long as he needed to reach his desired age of retirement.

And then a thought flashed across my mind.

What if I didn’t need to c

reate a family from scratch?

What if I could acquire one to prove my father wrong, and be rid of them the second the company was mine.

Only one name kept flashing in my mind.

She was inevitable.