Ava ~~~ Evie and I stand outside Axion Towers, two minutes after Sinclair dismissed me, and before we can decide my next move, Oliver ambles out of the building, a new contract in his hand. “Oh great. Sinclair sent him.” Evie sighs at me. Oliver gives her his bright, mischievous smile, “You know, some might say your annoyance with me is really attraction.” Evie turns tomato red, which only makes Oliver’s smile brighter. Seriously, you'd think the guy was working at an ice cream shop with how happy he seemed. “Who are you to Sinclair anyway?” I ask. He turns to me and his golden eyes scan me. “I could ask the same of you, future Mrs Sinclair.” Hearing someone refer to me as Sinclair’s future wife sends a jolt through me. Sinclair must really trust him if he lets Oliver in on the secret. “But to answer your question, Ava, I’m Leonel’s lawyer, PR manager, and organiser, and sometimes I make deliveries.” On that last point, he winks at Evie, who rolls her eyes. Now I
Ava ~~~ I can't stop thinking about the car that almost hit me. There's a familiarity to it that reminds me of the past. But what? My thoughts are silenced by a thick cloud of hairspray my stylist, Brianna, seems to be using to try and kill me. As I cough she tsks, “Get used to it, Miss Allard. You’ll be in my dressing room more often from now on.” Oliver drove me straight to the luxury studio, one owned by Sinclair’s family. It looks more like a hotel than a studio with high ceilings and chandeliers dropping down from them. Brianna looks like the sort of person who belongs in the styling chair, not the person who should be doing the styling; with flawless Carmel skin and a sleek auburn bob that frames her heart-shaped face and suits her warm brown eyes. But as the cloud of hairspray clears, I look in the mirror and realize I might belong in this chair just as much as her. “Is that… me?” Her reflection grins, “ Yes ma'am. You're looking at the new and improved Ava
Ava~~~Sinclair goes to the mansion without me.I stand outside the studio, a jacket draped over my shoulders, trying hard not to scream.Does he just expect I’d find my way?“Fucking Sinclair,” I mutter under my breath. But just before I mumble another curse, something parked in the corner catches my eye.With a gasp, I realize it’s the car.It’s a blue Jeep with odd tyres, so distinct I know I’ve seen it before.I peer over my shoulder, wondering if Sinclair had come back for me.Nope.With nothing else to do, I walk over, my heels clicking against the pavement.When I get to the car, it’s empty. The only thing inside is a mess: snack bags, plastic bottles, and a dollar-sign air freshener hanging from the mirror.I stumble back.No.It can’t be.There’s only one person I know who had that exact air freshener dangling from their blue car.Could it be… him?The sun is suddenly too hot, the air too thick. I feel like I might pass out if I don’t find shade.No. No. No. No. No.A hand g
Ava ~~~ I want to lean on the wall next to me to catch my breath, but when I stretch out my hand to rest on the surface, I realise it's not there. It's only when I turn to my left that I see the four walls of this house are so far apart that I can run to the other side. Only the expensive marble floors would make me slip as I moved. In the middle of the huge living room, there's a marble Greek-like statue surrounded by the softest-looking white couches I've ever seen. This is all overlooked by huge windows that show the expansive garden, which may as well be a field. It’s so beautiful, yet I can’t truly appreciate that with this fear that's still rattling in me. The only thing I fully feel is shock that Sinclair did this house by himself. Sinclair. The reminder of him knocks the sense back into me. I wouldn't have seen that car if not for him. If he had just done the right thing and brought me home himself. Fuming, I stomp towards the large winding staircase. As I go
Ava ~~~ I rush back inside, hearing the door lock automatically the moment I’m back on the tiled floors of the mansion. But this does nothing to lessen my anxiety. He’s here. This close to where I live. How long will it take him to find ways to bypass all the locks? And even if that will never be a worry, what about when I try and go outside? I have to go outside, don’t I? Suddenly the door lock isn’t enough. I run to one of the couches and see a maid vacuuming around it. She looks up at me with a smile already plastered across her face, but at the sight of me it falls. “Mrs. Sinclair, is everything alright?” I shake my head frantically. He’s here. He’s here to take me. I crouch under the huge couch, my knees slamming to the ground in a way that elicits a gasp from the maid, but I don’t care about the pain right now. I only put my hands under the couch and start pulling. It barely budges, moving about a centimeter. “Help me move this to the door,” I hurry out. She looks at
Ava ~~~ When my mum was diagnosed with cancer, she’d only told me, “Huh? Look how two days can change everything.” She was trying to joke for my sake, of course, but there was no denying the truth of the statement. Just two days before, we’d all been in the yard: me, Mum, and Dad, laughing while Dad grilled some steaks. It was also the day she gave me the butterfly necklace. “It didn’t cost much,” she shrugged when I told her it was too expensive, her short red hair blowing in the breeze. She didn’t realize it would be priceless to me. Dad took a “business trip” that night, kissing Mum on the cheek as she smiled, and then coming over to kiss me the same way, saying, “Whatever happens, Ava, you deserve the whole world.” I thought it was just cute, and without realizing it was a goodbye, I stretched up to hug him. It was the last hug I ever gave him. Mum fainted the next day when he’d stopped receiving her calls, and what we thought was the result of heartbreak turned o
Ava ~~~ Oliver tells me no. Okay, technically his exact words are: “Are you out of your fucking mind, Ava?” The answer is yes, out of my mind with sleepiness and stress, but I clutch the phone tighter and argue, “Who does it hurt, Oliver? Sinclair and I aren’t officially together, and he always gets his way. Why don’t I get mine?” He sighs. “Real marriage or not, Leonel doesn’t want you getting Moretti’s number. And maybe it’s for a good reason other than jealousy. Maybe he—” “Wait, slow down. Sinclair’s jealous?” There’s a long pause on Oliver’s end. Finally, he clears his throat. “That’s not important. Look, I like you, Ava. Sure, you’re crazy, but I work for crazy, so I think we’ll get along fine. Just… I can’t give you that number. I’m more loyal to Sinclair than I am to you.” A new layer of respect settles in my mind for Oliver. The way he sticks up for Sinclair (even though the guy very clearly has a stick shoved up his ass) is endearing. “Okay, Oliver,” I conc
Ava ~~~ I go still where I am, afraid if I move, another problem may fall on my head. Sinclair is wearing the same thing I am: a basic T-shirt and jeans, but I can see the outline of his muscled body through the shirt. If not for the mention of a problem, I might have let my mind wander to his shirtlessness. I sigh, settling into the seat before the huge breakfast spread that has been laid out for me. “Sinclair, I just woke up. Can we make problems an afternoon activity?” I’ve never been the type to joke around, certainly not like Oliver, but something in me wants to get the slightly vulnerable Sinclair I had yesterday, the one who held me and told me I’m brave. But he doesn’t even look at me, saying, “Genevive Garrish wants to interview us.” Genevive Garrish? I know I’ve heard that name before. As I spoon some fruit salad into my mouth, it hits me. “Hold on… Genevive Garrish as in The Garrish Late Night Show host?” Sinclair nods, still not looking at me. “The very same.”
Ava ~~~ The world stops moving. Everything stops moving. Leonel Sinclair is kissing me. I can’t believe this is happening, I think, even as I sink my hands into his hair, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. I register his arm tighten around my waist, groaning as his lips move against mine, and I know we should stop. Fake engaged or not, this is messed up on levels I haven’t even begun to uncover. “Ava,” he murmurs into my mouth, and all my restraint is forgotten. I lick his bottom lip, tasting the sweet-sour residue of scotch, and he opens his mouth for me, intertwining our tongues in a way that feels so sinfully wrong. Suddenly, we’re moving back, the kiss becoming more frantic. I need something from him, something I haven’t needed in years. He hits the couch, falling back and gently pulling me with him till I lay on top of him, the sound of the fire still cackling in the background of our desperation. I pull back from him, and he groans in opposition, but it’s only s
Ava ~~~ When my father left and my mother died, in the wake of my heartbreak, I started feeding myself fantasy novels. No book really satisfied at first, and I tried several. I nearly gave up on the idea that fantasy could help you through the pain of heartbreak until I stumbled on The Owl Hunter Series by Nicco Moretti. It started with one page, then two. Then, before I knew it, I was reading his 500-page books in a week. For a while, I saw Nicco as my safe place. I watched all his interviews and discovered he was funny and charming. I would use any money I had left over to buy his books. The addiction soon died down, of course, but in a soft part of my heart, I’ve always kept Nicco safely tucked away. And now here he is, texting me. At first, I think my fingers don’t know how to work. What do I text back? How do you text back a legend like him? But I soon pick my mouth off the ground and reply, “I’d love to see you whenever you’re around.” Sinclair flashes in my head, so pa
Ava ~~~I fiddle with my necklace outside the curtain. In about five minutes, Sinclair and I will be called on The Garrish Late Night Show stage to convince the entire world that we’re in love and eager to get married.It would have been easier if Sinclair wasn’t a complete asshole who thinks the woman he’s fake marrying is desperate and a nobody.“Allard,” he says for the fifth time, insistence seeping into his voice, “don’t make me beg.”“Make you beg? How will a nobody like me get you to do something like that?”I feel him stiffen beside me. It’s not the first time today I’ve alluded back to that conversation he had on the phone, the one that somehow left me feeling hurt despite telling myself I couldn’t care less.“You weren’t meant to hear that,” he says, as if that makes it any better. “I was talking to someone, someone who doesn’t matter, and I just needed him to get off my back.”I’d considered this was the reason he did what he’d done. After all, he didn’t exactly sound ple
Ava ~~~ I go still where I am, afraid if I move, another problem may fall on my head. Sinclair is wearing the same thing I am: a basic T-shirt and jeans, but I can see the outline of his muscled body through the shirt. If not for the mention of a problem, I might have let my mind wander to his shirtlessness. I sigh, settling into the seat before the huge breakfast spread that has been laid out for me. “Sinclair, I just woke up. Can we make problems an afternoon activity?” I’ve never been the type to joke around, certainly not like Oliver, but something in me wants to get the slightly vulnerable Sinclair I had yesterday, the one who held me and told me I’m brave. But he doesn’t even look at me, saying, “Genevive Garrish wants to interview us.” Genevive Garrish? I know I’ve heard that name before. As I spoon some fruit salad into my mouth, it hits me. “Hold on… Genevive Garrish as in The Garrish Late Night Show host?” Sinclair nods, still not looking at me. “The very same.”
Ava ~~~ Oliver tells me no. Okay, technically his exact words are: “Are you out of your fucking mind, Ava?” The answer is yes, out of my mind with sleepiness and stress, but I clutch the phone tighter and argue, “Who does it hurt, Oliver? Sinclair and I aren’t officially together, and he always gets his way. Why don’t I get mine?” He sighs. “Real marriage or not, Leonel doesn’t want you getting Moretti’s number. And maybe it’s for a good reason other than jealousy. Maybe he—” “Wait, slow down. Sinclair’s jealous?” There’s a long pause on Oliver’s end. Finally, he clears his throat. “That’s not important. Look, I like you, Ava. Sure, you’re crazy, but I work for crazy, so I think we’ll get along fine. Just… I can’t give you that number. I’m more loyal to Sinclair than I am to you.” A new layer of respect settles in my mind for Oliver. The way he sticks up for Sinclair (even though the guy very clearly has a stick shoved up his ass) is endearing. “Okay, Oliver,” I conc
Ava ~~~ When my mum was diagnosed with cancer, she’d only told me, “Huh? Look how two days can change everything.” She was trying to joke for my sake, of course, but there was no denying the truth of the statement. Just two days before, we’d all been in the yard: me, Mum, and Dad, laughing while Dad grilled some steaks. It was also the day she gave me the butterfly necklace. “It didn’t cost much,” she shrugged when I told her it was too expensive, her short red hair blowing in the breeze. She didn’t realize it would be priceless to me. Dad took a “business trip” that night, kissing Mum on the cheek as she smiled, and then coming over to kiss me the same way, saying, “Whatever happens, Ava, you deserve the whole world.” I thought it was just cute, and without realizing it was a goodbye, I stretched up to hug him. It was the last hug I ever gave him. Mum fainted the next day when he’d stopped receiving her calls, and what we thought was the result of heartbreak turned o
Ava ~~~ I rush back inside, hearing the door lock automatically the moment I’m back on the tiled floors of the mansion. But this does nothing to lessen my anxiety. He’s here. This close to where I live. How long will it take him to find ways to bypass all the locks? And even if that will never be a worry, what about when I try and go outside? I have to go outside, don’t I? Suddenly the door lock isn’t enough. I run to one of the couches and see a maid vacuuming around it. She looks up at me with a smile already plastered across her face, but at the sight of me it falls. “Mrs. Sinclair, is everything alright?” I shake my head frantically. He’s here. He’s here to take me. I crouch under the huge couch, my knees slamming to the ground in a way that elicits a gasp from the maid, but I don’t care about the pain right now. I only put my hands under the couch and start pulling. It barely budges, moving about a centimeter. “Help me move this to the door,” I hurry out. She looks at
Ava ~~~ I want to lean on the wall next to me to catch my breath, but when I stretch out my hand to rest on the surface, I realise it's not there. It's only when I turn to my left that I see the four walls of this house are so far apart that I can run to the other side. Only the expensive marble floors would make me slip as I moved. In the middle of the huge living room, there's a marble Greek-like statue surrounded by the softest-looking white couches I've ever seen. This is all overlooked by huge windows that show the expansive garden, which may as well be a field. It’s so beautiful, yet I can’t truly appreciate that with this fear that's still rattling in me. The only thing I fully feel is shock that Sinclair did this house by himself. Sinclair. The reminder of him knocks the sense back into me. I wouldn't have seen that car if not for him. If he had just done the right thing and brought me home himself. Fuming, I stomp towards the large winding staircase. As I go
Ava~~~Sinclair goes to the mansion without me.I stand outside the studio, a jacket draped over my shoulders, trying hard not to scream.Does he just expect I’d find my way?“Fucking Sinclair,” I mutter under my breath. But just before I mumble another curse, something parked in the corner catches my eye.With a gasp, I realize it’s the car.It’s a blue Jeep with odd tyres, so distinct I know I’ve seen it before.I peer over my shoulder, wondering if Sinclair had come back for me.Nope.With nothing else to do, I walk over, my heels clicking against the pavement.When I get to the car, it’s empty. The only thing inside is a mess: snack bags, plastic bottles, and a dollar-sign air freshener hanging from the mirror.I stumble back.No.It can’t be.There’s only one person I know who had that exact air freshener dangling from their blue car.Could it be… him?The sun is suddenly too hot, the air too thick. I feel like I might pass out if I don’t find shade.No. No. No. No. No.A hand g