Her choice

Chapter 3; Ava

The party was held at one of the Ashford resorts. The place looked like it was dipped in gold—everything gleamed. His wife, Mrs. Ashford, didn’t miss a single detail. The curtains matched the champagne flutes. The lighting was perfect. I felt out of place in my backless black dress that hugged every inch of my body down to my ankles. My hair was pinned in a messy bun with a gold clip, but my shoes… oh, my shoes belonged here. Red-bottom, gold-shimmering Louboutins—Diego’s gift for my 25th. I always imagined this was what Cinderella wore to her ball.

The party had already started. People were drinking, networking, and working. I wondered how many deals were being made right at this minute. There were a lot of people here. At least a hundred of them—rich, powerful, untouchable. Diego guided me through the crowd with one hand firm on my lower back.

He led me to a tall cocktail table in the corner and turned to face me, reading my face like an open book. “Relax, baby. You’re here to get laid,” he smirked. His eyes studying every corner. He is always on alert, comes with the job I guess. “We could’ve just gone to a bar,” I muttered, scanning the crowd. This felt too… polished for a hookup mission. He leaned in, his breath teasing my ear. “Ava, I know you. I know your type. You like powerful men. This is your crowd”

He gestured at the room. Money, testosterone, tailored suits and cold eyes. He wasn’t wrong. My stomach tightened. But I didn’t want this kind of night. I wanted to get wasted, dance, let my hair down and scream bad karaoke lyrics—not stand here like I was auditioning to be someone’s trophy wife.

I looked at the women—flawless makeup, couture dresses, tiny purses that probably cost more than my rent. Every one of them was attached to a man. They all had a date. Me? My date is my wingman. I almost laughed at that. “What’s going on in that crazy head of yours?” Diego asked, his lips twitching a little, noticing my silent spiral. And smile. “Nothing,” I brushed it off.

We stood there, watching people glide through the golden room. Diego was clearly known here. People nodded at him with respect. From across the floor, Mrs. Ashford caught his eye and gave a little gesture that clearly meant come here now.

He leaned in close again, the scent of his cologne stealing my thoughts. “I’ll be back,” he said, then disappeared into the crowd.

I downed my champagne and snatched another from a passing server. Of course, it was champagne. Nothing else. I tiptoed slightly on my heels and noticed a group of women playing violins in the corner. Elegant. Hypnotic. Which I hadn’t noticed till now. I loved the sound they were making so relaxing.

Then out of nowhere Someone new stepped into the space that Diego had just left. I looked at him. We hold eyes for a moment

“You look like you’re about to either murder someone or seduce them,” the man said, casually. I narrowed my eyes at the comment. “God, I need to work on my facial expressions,” I muttered.

He chuckled. Black suit, no tie. Strong jawline, piercing blue eyes, and that kind of long, dark blond hair that begged to be pulled. His voice was low, deep—smoky. Dangerous. Why am I finding everyone attractive?

“So which is it gonna be, mystery girl?” he asked.

“Mystery girl?” I tilted my head, amused. Of course nobody knew me here.

“I mean, how could I not ask about you?” He gestured toward my dress. My cheeks heated—like some teenager caught sneaking out. Stupid hormones. “Lucas, by the way.” He extended his hand, but before I could take it, the air changed.

I felt him. I felt that magnetic energy before I even saw him. Then his hand—his goddamn hand—landed on my lower back. My skin ignited.

“I see you’ve met Lucas,” Xavier’s voice slid through my body like a blade through skin. Of course he was here, why didn’t I think of the possibility. These were his kind of people. This was his kind of party.

I turned my head, and there he was. Xavier. My boss. Dressed in a midnight suit that was tailored like a second skin. White shirt, the top buttons undone just enough to tease. His piercing eyes locked onto mine, and I forgot how to breathe. His touch was firm, commanding, burning a trail down my spine. I wanted to melt into it—or throw my drink in his face. Maybe both. This madness had to stop. How can I want to jump on someone this bad.

“Oh, so you’re not a mystery girl after all,” Lucas said with a grin.

“She’s my employee,” Xavier said, the words deliberate, as if to stake a claim. His hand dipped a little lower before letting go. “Yes, he is just my boss," I said.

“Of course,” Lucas said, reaching out to shake Xavier’s hand. That handshake? The veins. Pure male intimidation. Testosterone overload.

“you didn’t tell me your name” lucas said I was about to answer him “Sweetheart, I was looking for you.” When I heard her and then her heels.

Her voice was soft, confident. She walked up beside Xavier and slid her hand through his arm like it belonged there. Tall, red head, and beautiful. The kind of woman you see in magazines and envy immediately. I stared at her hand placement and I felt my stomach twist.

His wife? Girlfriend? Flavor of the month? You would think the third option would make me feel better. Whatever she was, she was touching him. And it gutted me.

“Hello, Lucas,” she said with a smile that could slice glass. “Rosalie,” he replied, taking her hand politely.

Of course her name is Rosalie. Of course she looks like that. Of course she’s sweet. I wanted her to be a b*tch. I needed her to be a b*tch. Because if she was kind and beautiful, that meant I had less reasons to hate her guts. Her head turned to me. still smiling

“Hi, I’m Ava,” I said, trying to be casual. Telling them both. Lucas grinned.

“Oh, you are so gorgeous,” Rosalie said, eyes twinkling.

“Isn’t she?” Xavier added.

My jaw nearly hit the floor. What the hell was that? My boss of three months had never complimented me—not once. And now, what was he doing? I forced a smile, heat rushing to my face. I locked eyes with him, just for a second. There it was again—that smirk.

He was doing this on purpose. And it was working.

“Th—thank you,” I stammered, hating myself for it.

“I need to… go find my friend,” I said quickly, turning on my heels. I didn’t wait for a reply. I needed to get the hell out of there before I did something stupid. Or my stupid face or body gave my craving away.

I walked fast through the hallway, gripping the champagne glass like it was my last lifeline. My cheeks still burned. He said I was gorgeous. In front of everyone. In front of her. Rosalie

Who looked like every man’s wet dream, and had the nerve to be nice.

Of course, she had to be nice. That made it worse.

My heels clicked against the marble floor as I turned the corner, breathing heavy, trying to steady the chaos inside me.

“Ava.”

I froze. God please no.