Twisted Flames

TheArrangement

Ava’s POV

"You're marrying him, Ava. That's final."

My mother’s voice broke through the smell of roasted lamb and steamed vegetables like a sharp knife. I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth, my appetite moving faster than my resolve.

She sat across from me, clean as always, auburn hair swept into an elegant chignon, her emerald-green blouse tucked perfectly into a high-waisted ivory skirt. A string of pearls hugged her neck like was born to be there. My mother, Vivian Williams, always looked like someone who never flinched, never cracked.

We were seated around the long mahogany dining table, the one my father, Michael Williams, insisted on bringing from our ancestral home. He wore a sleek grey suit, the kind of formal even when informal look that he had mastered, eyes downcast on his wine glass, as though disassociating from the conversation unfolding right in front of him.

My younger sister, Sienna, sat rigid beside me, her curly brown hair falling just below her shoulders, a nervous habit making her twist a silver ring over and over on her finger. She wore a simple cream cardigan over a soft blue dress, soft-spoken even in style.

I hadn’t been home in six months. Not because I was estranged, but because being here felt like I was shrinking and held in b*****e. My life, my choices, were always under review. When I finally left, it was for my sanity. I’d gotten my own apartment, launched my A.W. interior styling studio, something I'd dreamed of for years, and promised myself I’d only come home when absolutely necessary.

Apparently, tonight was one of those nights. Dragged back home under the guise of a “family dinner.”

You're not even going to ask how I feel about it?" I said, finally lowering my fork. My voice was quiet, but firm. Controlled. “Just inform me like it’s some business transaction?”

“It’s not just about feelings, Ava,” my father replied without looking at me, his voice like stone. “This arrangement has been in place for years. You know this. The Cathers helped us when no one else would.”

I stared at him. "That was ten years ago, Dad. I was in high school. You mean to tell me I’ve been promised to someone since then and no one thought to mention it until now?”

“We didn’t think it would come to this,” my mother added. “But Jason’s family kept their word. They saved ours. And now, it’s time to honor the agreement.”

An agreement.

Like I was the payoff in a corporate merger.

“You didn’t just give them a part of your company,” I muttered. “You gave them your daughter too.”

"You didn’t ask if I wanted to marry Jason," I said, "So I’m the debt repayment?"

My mother placed her napkin gently on her lap, her face unreadable. "You’ve had six months to live your life the way you saw fit. Don’t pretend like we didn’t give you space. But some things are bigger than individual desires. This is one of them."

Sienna finally spoke. "Maybe Ava just needs more time…"

"Sienna, please," my mom snapped, silencing her.

I took a slow breath, biting back the words I wanted to say. I thought I had time before they dragged me into some kind of marital merger. Apparently, time had run out.

"Jason is a good man," my father added. "He’s respectful, responsible, and his family has been nothing but supportive."

"I barely know him," I murmured.

My mother gave me a tight smile. "Then get to know him. You’re not being forced into marriage tomorrow. The engagement party is in three weeks. That gives you enough time to become acquainted."

Three weeks.

I stared down at my now-cold food, my chest tightening. I felt Sienna’s eyes on me but didn’t meet them. Instead, I reached for my water, gulping it like it could drown the anxiety bubbling in my throat.

I pushed my chair back slowly, the legs scraping against the tiled floor. “Thank you for dinner. I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

The night air outside was cool against my skin as I stepped into my car and shut the door. I gripped the steering wheel for a long moment, staring blankly at the windshield. Then I drove, windows down, music off, just the rush of wind and the dull ache in my chest for company.

-----

Back in my apartment, I kicked off my heels, tossed my keys onto the kitchen counter, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I pulled my hair into a messy bun, and stared at the city skyline from my living room window.

My reflection showed a woman in a striking red dress with delicate gold straps, mascara slightly smudged from rubbing my eyes, lipstick faded. My dark brown hair, usually sleek, was now messy around my shoulders. I looked tired. And lost.

Three weeks.

Jason Cather, I knew of him, of course. Polished. Powerful. A Cather by blood and legacy. I’d met him only twice at some fundraising gala and once during a holiday brunch. He was pleasant, handsome in that magazine-cover way, and as formal as a linen napkin. And now, apparently, my fiancé.

But he wasn’t the man whose voice made my pulse hitch. He wasn’t the stranger whose cologne lingered in our shared elevator.

He wasn’t the neighbor I’d exchanged casual hellos with over the last few weeks, cool, distant, but charming.

That man... he intrigued me.

Tall, sharp jawline dusted with stubble, dark eyes always shadowed with mystery, and an effortless confidence in the way he carried himself, even in something as ordinary as joggers and a hoodie.

He was rarely around, but when he was, I felt it. In the gym. In the mailroom. The one time we bumped into each other at the late-night convenience store, he paid for my snacks without saying a word. Just a smirk, a nod, and he was gone. I never asked his name. He never offered it.

But his eyes, they lingered. And so did mine.

Now I was expected to marry someone else. Someone who, apparently, saved my family’s company and therefore earned me as part of the reward package.

What century were we even in?

I kicked the cabinet shut and grabbed a tub of ice cream. As I settled onto the couch, my phone beeped with a message.

Jason: Looking forward to our engagement party. I hope you are too.

I dropped the phone onto the couch. My fingers trembled slightly as I reached for the spoon.

Three weeks.

And I was falling for someone else.

Someone whose name I didn’t even know yet.