Chapter 4: The CEO

Ava

~~~

Silence

Pin-drop silence.

If I thought people were focusing on me before, the whole world was doing it now.

To Mr Sinclair’s credit, he doesn’t move, almost as if he’s completely unfazed that I’ve touched him. But I’ve dealt with men who mask their emotions in the past, and there’s no denying the glimmer of rage in his eye.

If I should be scared, I don’t feel it. Seeing him barely react only makes my itch to harm him grow. To my left, a lady who was carrying glasses of champagne around the room has now frozen. I take a glass off the tray and throw the drink in Mr Sinclair’s face, causing the audience to gasp.

This shocks him a bit more, and he takes a graceful step back with his jaw clenched.

Good.

“Listen,” I say, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you don’t impress me. If you think you can throw a few thousand dollars at me and then treat me however you want, you’re greatly mistaken. Why don’t you find some other poor helpless girl to fuck with because it surely wouldn’t be me.”

Even though I know high-end events like these don’t allow recordings, it seems this legendary fight has allowed people to forget the rule. I see Axion tech phones go up in the crowd, and it makes me realize just how rich these people are.

His full lips twitch, “You’re a lot stupider than I thought, Mi Valienta.”

“Brave.” I correct him, “I’m way braver than you think.”

“Sometimes they’re the same thing.” He growls, his tone on the edge of danger.

I move closer, my breath hitching as he bends, “Not with me.”

A spark lights in his eyes, one I can’t explain, but it immediately dies down when he looks around and sees all the men and women recording.

“Fuck” He whispers so only I can hear, “Look what you’ve done Mi Valienta.”

“Stop calling me that,” I say, but my sights aren’t trained on him. I'm looking around and sure enough, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m being recorded.

My heart jolts as I face the thousands of people present, and the flash of their cameras blinds me in return.

Oh no.

Since “the incident”, I’ve done everything I can to make sure he doesn’t find me, but if these rich assholes post this video online and it goes viral, I’m worse than dead.

For some reason, Sinclair seems to hate it too. His veined hands clench at his sides as his grey eyes dart around the room. He doesn’t seem nervous, though. I can tell the gears in his head are spinning, trying to find a way out of the situation.

Finally, it's like something clicks, but he turns back to me with a sort of determination I can only define as terrifying.

“I can’t believe you’re about to make me do this.” He whispers to me.

I want to ask him exactly what it is he’s about to do, but I’m not as quick to speak as he is to move. He cups my face with rough hands, and I let out a small gasp at the little distance that now exists between us, so small I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“What are you doing?” I ask, shocked that I’m a little breathless.

“Fixing your fucking mess.” He mutters.

Before I can think of my next reply, he crashes his lips to mine.

What the fuck?

I hear the clicks of cameras and “awws” of people around us as Mr Sinclair holds onto me for dear life.

I want to push him away, or.. at least I think I want to push him away, but his lips are surprisingly soft, and a shiver runs down my spine as my hands find themselves in the waves of his hair.

His fingers skillfully knot in my thick red hair, tangling and pulling me closer in one incredible move.

I hear a second wave of cameras go off, and I should care, but I’ve never lost myself in a kiss like this before. A tingling feeling ignites in my lower belly, leaving me burning for more.

Suddenly, Sinclair breaks away. The look in his eyes is impassive, as if he didn’t have the same exhilarating experience I just had, and this pisses me off, my hand itching to slap him again.

How could I feel something so raw for him one minute and something so spiteful the next? My confusion and caution mingle into one guarded thing, and I back away from him slightly.

“What was… What the hell did you do that for?” I whisper-yell, a mix of anger and something else I can’t explain twisted in my chest.

“Like I said,” He whispers back with a hoarse voice, “I’m fixing your fucking mess.”

Without another word, I run for the doors. I don’t stop to see if anyone has followed me or to take my art back home, I simply move as quickly as my flower heels will let me.

It’s only when I get outside and see the banner for the evening that I stop in my tracks, panting like a madwoman.

I was super early, so I never got to see them put up the banner in honour of the sponsor and owner of the event, and if I had, I may have just risked getting kicked out by The Madame, because right there on the banner is Sinclair’s full face. Alongside that, written in bold, red print, it says the entire event is paid through Axion tech.

Because Sinclair is the fucking CEO of Axion Tech.

I stumble over the sidewalk in horror as all the pieces click together: his familiar face, his powerful presence, all the money he had to throw at a few paintings. Not only that, but I remember the news story from 4 years ago, the one that played in the background during “the incident” about a billionaire getting a divorce.

I look at the top of the banner, swallowing my nausea as I do, because larger than everything is his full name, Leonel Sinclair.

That Leonel from the news.

“Ava Jade Allard.” I whisper to myself as I try not to faint, “You are so fucking dead.”