Falling for the enemy

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Leo sat in the booth for ten minutes after Ava left.

He stared at the empty chair across from him, at the half-eaten croissant she had abandoned, at the napkin she had crumpled and left behind. His mind was racing, trying to piece together what had just happened.

Victoria Laurent.

The name hung in the air like a shadow. Victoria Laurent, the woman who had made his childhood a living nightmare. Victoria Laurent, who had told him he was worthless, that he didn't belong, that he would never be good enough for her family.

And Ava.

Ava, who had gone pale at the mention of that name. Ava, who had looked at him like she had seen a ghost. Ava, who had walked out without a word of explanation.

He should have known. He should have seen it.

The last name was right there in front of him the whole time. Laurent. The same last name as the woman who had tormented him for years. The same family that had made him feel like nothing.

He had been so blind.

No, that wasn't quite right. He hadn't been blind. He had been willfully ignorant. He had let himself get caught up in the moment, let himself believe that this beautiful, complicated woman could be different. Could be real.

But she was a Laurent. And that meant she was just like the rest of them.

Leo grabbed his laptop and shoved it into his bag. He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table, more than enough to cover his coffee and her latte, and walked out of the café without looking back.

He needed to get out of there. He needed to breathe. He needed to forget that Ava Laurent had ever existed.

But he couldn't.

---

The elevator ride up to his apartment felt like it took forever. Leo stood in the corner, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying to ignore the image of Ava's face that kept flashing through his mind.

The way she had looked at him. The way her voice had cracked. The way she had fled.

She knew.

She had to know. There was no other explanation. She had recognized the name, recognized the connection, and run.

But what did it matter? She was a Laurent. That was all he needed to know. Whatever fragile connection they had built over the past two weeks, whatever spark had flickered between them, it didn't matter. Couldn't matter.

He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

The elevator doors opened onto his floor. Leo walked down the hallway to his apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

His apartment was small but comfortable. A one-bedroom in a building that was too expensive for what it was, but he didn't care. He had chosen it specifically because it was in the same building as the Laurents. Because he wanted to be close to them. Because he wanted to watch them. Because he wanted to remind himself every single day of what they had done to him.

It was petty. It was obsessive. But it was the only thing that had kept him going through the darkest years of his life.

He had spent years planning his revenge. Years building his career, his reputation, his platform. He had become a bestselling author, a household name, exactly the kind of success that would make Victoria Laurent seethe.

And now here he was, falling for her daughter like some kind of fool.

Leo walked to the window and stared out at the city. The skyline stretched before him, a maze of glass and steel and concrete. Somewhere out there, Ava was walking the streets, trying to process the bombshell he had just dropped on her.

Did she even know? Did she know what her mother had done?

He thought back to their conversation in the café. The way she had talked about her mother, the control, the pressure, the constant expectation to be perfect. There had been no warmth in her voice when she mentioned Victoria Laurent. No affection.

Maybe she didn't know the full story. Maybe she had no idea the kind of cruelty her mother was capable of.

But did it even matter?

She was still a Laurent. She had still grown up in that house, benefited from that wealth, enjoyed that privilege. She was still part of the family that had made his life a living hell.

He couldn't trust her. He couldn't let her in. He couldn't let himself feel anything for her.

No matter how much he wanted to.

---

The next morning, Leo didn't go to The Grind House.

He stayed in his apartment, staring at his laptop, pretending to work. The cursor blinked mockingly at him, the blank page stretching out like an endless void. He typed a sentence. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

His phone buzzed on the table next to him.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

He picked it up and looked at the screen. Three messages from an unknown number.

Unknown: Where are you?

Unknown: I waited for an hour.

Unknown: Please answer me.

Leo stared at the messages, his heart pounding. She had gotten his number somehow. Of course she had. She was a Laurent. They always got what they wanted.

He should block her. He should delete the messages and forget she existed.

Instead, he typed back.

Leo: How did you get my number?

The response came almost immediately.

Unknown: The barista gave it to me. I told him you were my boyfriend.

Leo: You're unbelievable.

Unknown: I know. Are you going to answer my question?

Leo: What question?

Unknown: Where were you this morning?

Leo: I was busy.

Unknown: Too busy to see me?

Leo: Yes.

There was a pause. Leo watched the screen, waiting for her to respond. He could almost picture her on the other end, pacing in her penthouse, chewing on her bottom lip the way she did when she was nervous.

Unknown: I think we need to talk.

Leo: I don't think there's anything to talk about.

Unknown: Leo, please. I know what you must be thinking. But it's not what you think.

Leo: You don't know what I'm thinking.

Unknown: I know you're angry. I know you're shutting down. I know you're pushing me away because you think I'm just like my mother.

Leo stared at the screen. She was right. Of course she was right. She had seen through him with an ease that was terrifying.

Leo: You don't know anything about me.

Unknown: I know more than you think. Please. Just give me a chance to explain.

Leo: Explain what? That your mother is a monster? That she made my life a living hell? That she told me I was worthless, that I didn't belong, that I would never be good enough for her family?

Unknown: I know.

Leo: What?

Unknown: I know what she did. I didn't know before. Not the details. But I knew she was cruel. I knew she hurt people. I just didn't know who.

Leo: And now that you do?

Unknown: Now that I do, I want to make it right.

Leo laughed bitterly. He typed out a response, then deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

Leo: You can't make it right. Nothing can make it right.

Unknown: I can try. Please. Just let me try.

Leo didn't respond. He put down his phone and walked away from the table. He couldn't do this. He couldn't let her in. He couldn't let himself believe that she was different.

But he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The way she had looked at him when he mentioned Victoria Laurent. The way her face had gone pale. The way she had run. She hadn't known. She had been just as blindsided as he was.

Maybe she wasn't like her mother. Maybe she was different.

But did it matter? Could he ever trust someone with that last name? Could he ever let himself love someone who shared blood with his tormentor?

Leo didn't know the answer. But he knew he needed to find out.

---

He went to The Grind House the next morning.

He didn't know why. He had told himself he wouldn't go. He had told himself it was over, that whatever had been between them was dead and buried.

But he went anyway.

She was already there when he walked in, sitting in their booth, her hands wrapped around a latte that had gone cold. She looked up when he entered, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Ava smiled. It was a small, tentative smile, full of hope and fear and something that looked dangerously like love.

"You came," she said.

"I don't know why."

"Because you wanted to see me."

"That's not true."

"Liar."

He slid into the seat across from her, and they sat there in silence, two strangers who had somehow become something more.

"I'm sorry," Ava said finally. "For running away. For not telling you. For all of it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know how." She looked down at her cold latte. "I knew my mother was cruel. I knew she had hurt people. But I didn't know the full extent of it. I didn't know about you."

"And now you do?"

"And now I do." She looked up, meeting his eyes. "And I want to make it right."

"You can't."

"I can try."

"Trying isn't enough."

"Then what is? What can I do to make you believe me? To make you trust me?"

Leo studied her for a long moment. She looked different today, softer, less guarded. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she wasn't wearing any makeup. She looked like a real person, not a model, not a Laurent, just Ava.

"You can start by telling me the truth," he said. "About your mother. About your family. About everything."

Ava nodded. "Okay. I can do that."

She took a deep breath and began to talk.

She told him about her childhood, about growing up in a house where nothing was ever good enough. She told him about her mother's cruelty, the constant criticism, the relentless pressure to be perfect. She told him about her father, a man who had been absent for most of her life, who had left when she was young and never looked back.

She told him about the guilt she carried, the shame of benefiting from a system that had hurt so many people. She told him about her desire to escape, to break free from her mother's control, to become her own person.

And she told him about her regret. The deep, aching regret that she hadn't done something sooner. That she hadn't stopped her mother from hurting him.

"I know it's not enough," she said. "I know I can't change the past. But I want to try. I want to be better. I want to be worthy of someone like you."

"Ava." Leo reached across the table and took her hand. "You don't have to be worthy of me. You just have to be yourself."

"But I don't even know who that is."

"Then we'll figure it out together."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Do you mean that?"

"I mean it."

Ava smiled, a real smile this time, full of hope and joy and the promise of something new.

"Okay," she said. "Together."

---

They talked for hours.

Ava told him about her modeling career, the constant battles with body image, the pressure to look perfect, the way her mother had pushed her into it without ever asking if she wanted it.

Leo told her about his writing, about the joy of creating something from nothing, about the fear that he would never write anything good again. He told her about Ethan, his agent, the only person who had ever believed in him. He told her about Jordan, his adoptive brother, the one person in the Laurent family who had shown him kindness.

"Jordan," Ava repeated. "He's my cousin. I barely know him."

"He's a good man. He tried to help me when we were kids. But he couldn't stop what was happening."

"What happened to you, Leo? What did my mother do?"

Leo was quiet for a long moment. He had never told anyone the full story. Not even Ethan. Not even Jordan. The memories were too painful, too raw.

But looking at Ava, he knew he could trust her.

"She told me I was worthless," he said finally. "Every single day. She told me I was a burden, that I didn't deserve to be part of the family, that I would never amount to anything. She made my life a living hell, and no one stopped her."

"Leo." Ava's voice cracked. "I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know. But I still feel responsible."

"You're not."

"I know." She squeezed his hand. "But I want to help you heal. I want to be there for you. I want to show you that not all Laurents are the same."

Leo looked into her eyes, and for the first time in years, he felt something he had thought was lost forever.

Hope.

"Okay," he said. "I'll give you a chance."

Ava smiled. "That's all I'm asking."