THE BILLIONAIRE GAMBLE

CHAPTER 6

“Even a queen must bleed to remind the court she’s still human.”

***

Midnight.

The Gala Aftermath.

Ava stood alone on Selene Laurent Holdings' rooftop terrace; the chilly wind stung her skin through the delicate silk of her dress. Underneath her, Manhattan sparkled like a lie covered in gold. Lights, drive, deception. Just like the gala—just like Selene.

Her trembling fingers lit a cigarette. Selene’s final remark had drawn blood. And Ava knew it was intentional.

But more than the insult, more than the press whispering in corners, what lingered like a splinter under her skin was Ethan’s silence.

He’d watched. From across the room. Seen Selene humiliate her and said nothing.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Didn’t choose.

Coward.

The door opened behind her.

"Thought I would find you here." Ethan said, stepping in, hands in the pockets of his fitted jacket.

The city lights cut shadows across his features, hence toughening his appearance.

Ava didn’t turn. “Didn’t realize you were still invited.”

“I wasn’t.” His voice was low.

“Didn’t stop me.”

She took a slow drag, exhaled smoke through parted lips.

“You saw what she said.”

“I saw everything.”

A beat.

“I also saw you walk in like you owned the place. Like it didn’t matter that the knives were already pointed.”

She laughed once, dry and sharp. “That’s the thing about knives, Ethan. I prefer when they’re visible.”

He moved closer. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Ava turned now, eyes blazing. “You don’t get to say that. Not after walking away this morning like nothing happened. Not after standing there tonight and letting her talk about me like I was already buried.”

“I didn’t know she was going to…”

“But you knew what she’s capable of.” Her voice dropped.

“And you still let her aim at me.”

His jaw tightened. “You think I’m protecting her?”

“I think you’re still hers in ways you don’t even realize.”

That hit.

Ethan stepped forward, voice low and tight.

“You don’t get to talk about ownership like you’re innocent, Ava. You used me, too.”

Her eyes didn’t flinch. “I never lied about it.”

“And that makes it better?”

“No. It makes it clear.”

Silence crackled between them. The city pulsed below. Somewhere, a siren wailed like a warning neither of them heeded.

Then, softer—Ethan asked, “Do you want me gone?”

Ava hesitated. The answer should’ve been yes. It would’ve been easier.

But the truth was a war inside her ribs.

“No,” she said finally.

“But I don’t want you standing between me and her, either.”

“She’s planning something bigger,” Ethan murmured.

“This gala? Just the spark. She’s gunning for more than your reputation.”

Ava stepped closer. “Then she should’ve killed me when she had the chance.”

Their eyes locked. Heat surged beneath the ice. Tension curled around them like smoke… undeniable, electric, dangerous.

But neither moved. Not yet.

Because wanting wasn’t the same as trusting.

And Ava wasn’t ready to bleed for him again.

***

Elsewhere That Night

Selene’s Private Suite – Lark & Vex

Selene stood barefoot, removing her earrings in front of the mirror. The gala had gone exactly as planned—no, better. Ava had played her part perfectly. Fiery. Predictable. Desperate.

“She’s spiraling,” Selene murmured, applying night cream with meticulous precision.

“And desperation makes people sloppy.”

A knock at the door.

Vincent—still on her payroll—stepped inside, avoiding her gaze.

“You said you had something,” Selene prompted.

He hesitated. “One of Ava’s investors. London-based. He’s ready to flip.”

Selene smiled slowly. “Good. Get the paperwork drawn. I want Ava cornered before the board meets next quarter.”

He lingered. “And Ethan?”

Her hand froze for the briefest moment.

Then she met Vincent’s gaze in the mirror.

“He’ll fall in line. He always does.”

***

The Next Morning

Ava’s Penthouse

Ava woke before dawn. No messages. No calls. But her inbox was lit up like a battlefield.

Investor withdrawal notices. PR fallout. Board pressure.

Selene had made her next move.

And now it was Ava’s turn.

She rose, blood still humming from the rooftop tension with Ethan. There was no more room for weakness. She’d flirted with vulnerability—and Selene had seen the c***k.

Never again.

She stripped off her silk slip, stepped into a tailored suit, pinned her hair back like armor.

Then she placed a single call.

One that would begin the next phase.

Retaliation.

“Activate the Zurich accounts. And leak the Warsaw files to the press. Let’s remind Selene what exposure really feels like.”

***

Ava ended the call, fingers trembling slightly as she lowered the phone.

The Warsaw files were more than a jab. They were a tactical explosion.

Selene’s off-the-books lobbying efforts, masked through shell companies and diverted funds—information no one outside a sealed vault in Zurich should’ve ever seen. Ava had locked it away years ago, in case the day came when Selene turned from rival to enemy.

That day was here.

And Ava didn’t plan to lose again.

The first alert hit five minutes later.

“WARSAW LEAK: European Parliament Investigates Selene Laurent Holdings”

Ava stood in front of the glass, watching the city rise with the sun, phone still in her hand. The sky turned crimson behind the skyline—like blood blooming across the horizon.

By the time she finished her espresso, Selene would be bleeding.

But even as she reveled in the moment, her stomach twisted.

Because Ethan hadn’t called.

He always did.

Even in silence, even in anger, he’d never left her completely in the dark. But now… nothing.

She gazed at the glass reflection of herself. The woman looking back was not the version of Ava Ethan had brushed against the mirror, or kissed, or stared at like she was made of fire.

This was the Ava that rose from ruin.

Unforgiving. Unrelenting.

And utterly alone.

***

Meanwhile – Selene Laurent Holdings, West Wing Conference Room

Selene burst through the door, tossing her phone onto the marble table where Vincent was already seated.

“You said the Warsaw files were gone.”

Vincent looked pale. “They were. Scrubbed. Encrypted…”

“Then how the hell are they on every goddamn news outlet in Europe?!”

She paced the room, heels clicking like gunfire.

Vincent flinched. “It’s her. Has to be.”

“No,” Selene snapped.

“It’s not just her. Someone gave her access. Those files weren’t just hidden. They were buried.”

A pause.

Selene’s voice dropped. “It’s Ethan.”

Vincent blinked. “You think he gave them to her?”

“No,” Selene said slowly, eyes narrowing.

“I think he never changed the vault codes.”

Her mind raced, calculating. Ethan had helped her lock the files away years ago—back when they were still partners in every sense of the word. He had access. He always did.

Which meant…

He let this happen.

Her eyes turned to Vincent, voice icy and lethal.

“Find out who’s still loyal. Freeze the Zurich channels. And if Ethan makes contact—do nothing. Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she said, sliding into her seat.

“If he’s playing both sides… he’s about to learn what betrayal feels like.”

***

That Evening – Ava’s Private Office, SoHo

Ava’s fingers moved across the chessboard on her desk—an old habit she returned to when planning her next strike.

Her knight took the queen.

And just as she set the piece down, her phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number. One message.

We need to talk. No games this time. —E

Her pulse quickened.

She hesitated.

Then typed back: Midnight. My place. Come alone.

***

The city pulsed below like a restless heart as midnight struck. The lights of Manhattan glittered through the glass walls, cold and watchful.

Ava poured herself a bourbon, neat—no ice. She didn’t need anything watered down tonight. Not her liquor. Not the truth.

The elevator chimed.

She didn’t flinch.

Ava stayed facing the window, back straight, shoulders exposed in the silk robe that clung to her like a whisper.

Footsteps. Slow. Unhurried.

Ethan’s voice broke the silence. “You leaked the files.”

She turned.

He was still in the same suit from the last meeting, tie gone, shirt undone at the collar. But his eyes—those sharp, molten eyes—weren’t angry.

They were something else.

“Don’t walk into my home like you didn’t expect me to fire back,” she said, sipping the bourbon.

“She made her move. I made mine.”

He studied her, like he was memorizing her all over again.

“You could’ve started a war.”

Ava stepped closer, her voice low, edged with something dangerous.

“I didn’t start it, Ethan. I ended her illusion of safety.”

A beat.

Then his voice dropped. “She thinks I gave you access.”

Ava’s gaze flickered. “Did you?”

“No,” he said.

“But I didn’t change the codes either.”

Something flickered between them—recognition, maybe. That they both had known this collision was inevitable. That every touch, every kiss, every dangerous game had been one step closer to this brink.

“I wanted to protect you,” he said quietly.

She laughed once—sharp and soft all at once.

"One cannot shield someone unwilling of saving."

He moved up, put aside the glass from her hand.

"Then what would you like?

She spoke nearly a whisper. "I want you to cease pretending you do not burn the same way I do."

And just like that, the strain broke.

His hands drew her into him, mouth hot, damaging, honest, crash to hers. Ava kissed him back with the rage of a woman with everything left to take and nothing left to lose.

hands slashing, mouths devouring, they fell upon the wall. As he kissed down her throat, his fingers entangled in her hair pulled her head back.

He rasped, "You drive me insane."

"You ruin everything."

She hissed, yanking his belt free with one strong jerk.

"You let me."

He grabbed her in one motion and hauled her across the room before dropping her on the soft velvety couch. The silk of her robe opened like a gash, revealing skin he would again mark and had already noted.

He kissed her as though it were the last time.

She let him because she was unsure if it would be.

Clothing dropped away. Hands interpreted old territory with fresh desperation. His mouth searched her hip, her breast, the interior of her thigh. He pushed into her with a moan, arched under him and grabbed down his back.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t tender.

It was warfare—between lips and skin, between hunger and heartbreak. Their bodies moved like they were still fighting, still claiming, still daring each other to admit this was more than power.

When Ava came, it was with his name on her lips—raw, broken, real.

When he followed, it was with her name in his mouth like a secret.

***

They lay in silence after.

Under her cheek, his chest rose and sank.

She could hear the city humming beneath them once more as though nothing had happened.

But everything had.

And tomorrow… the game would start all over again.