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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.