Twisted Flames

TheUnspokenTruths

Nathaniel’s POV

I hated long workdays. The kind that drained more than just your energy, the ones that dragged your soul through cement and left stones on your tongue. By the time I stepped into the elevator of my building, I could barely feel my feet. Verdant Form, my company, was scaling into Europe, and expansion came with chaos, new pitches, angry investors, and a team that couldn’t function without my constant oversight.

The silver elevator doors slid open, and there she was.

Ava.

In black leggings that hugged her hips like second skin and a cropped workout tank that made it nearly impossible not to stare. Her ponytail, a glossy fall of dark brown waves bounced with each step, youthful glow of post-workout sweat sticking to her skin in a way that made it radiant. She held a water bottle in one hand and a plastic bag in the other.

She smiled, God help me, I felt the tension crawl down my spine.

“Hey, neighbor,” she said, breathless like she’d jogged up the stairs. “Rough day?”

God, her voice was sunshine in a thunderstorm.

I didn’t answer immediately. Just nodded. One syllable would do.

“Workout helps with stress, you know.” She moved her water bottle toward me, teasing.

“Not my kind of therapy.” I said flatly.

That caught her off guard. Her lips parted for a second, like she was deciding whether to laugh or walk away. Instead, she walked in beside me. I hit the button for our floor.

She nodded toward the control panel. “You live on the twelfth too?”

“Yeah.” One word. Just enough.

Silence.

“I think the hallway light’s out again,” she said, conversational. “And someone’s dog, definitely left a gift near my door this morning. Super fun surprise.”

“Happens every month,” I muttered.

She blinked. “So, you’ve been here that long, huh?”

I didn’t answer that. Just gave a noncommittal gesture. She kept trying, and I kept shutting her down. I wasn’t trying to be rude, okay, maybe I was, but I’d learned the hard way that interest always came with expectation.

And Ava Williams was the kind of woman who could wreck you if you let her.

She kept glancing my way, like trying to read a map no one else had access to.

As the elevator opened, we stepped into the dimly lit hallway. She bent to avoid a pee pad someone had tossed near the wall, muttering under her breath. Her top pulled just enough to reveal the curve of her lower back.

I looked away. Mostly.

“I’m Ava, by the way,” she said when we reached her door.

“I know,” I replied before I could stop myself.

She tilted her head. “Wait, how?”

“The man at the nearby store mentioned it the other day.”

She looked amused. “And your name is...?”

Before I could answer, my phone beeped in my pocket. Saved by the bell. I gave her a slight nod, unlocking my door.

She stayed put for a second, watching me like she was piecing together a puzzle. “Have a good night, mystery man.”

I smirked once, then shut the door behind me.

Long after I peeled off my blazer and threw it on the couch, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way her eyes lingered. Or how soft her lips looked. Or how I’d imagined her on my bed more times than I cared to admit.

She smelled like vanilla and adrenaline.

And I was already in trouble.

Ava’s POV

What the hell was that?

I mean, I know hot men come in all forms, bookish, moody, charming, but this one was lethal in silence. Tall, built, black hair that curled slightly near his ears, and eyes that could disarm you even when they barely looked your way.

And yet...he barely spoke. Maybe to me.

Every answer he gave was clipped, like letting me in even a little would break something inside him. I should’ve been offended, but somehow, it made me more curious. People didn’t just build walls like that unless they were hiding something or had been hurt enough to fear vulnerability.

Still, I wasn’t going to chase someone who didn’t even care to introduce himself.

Even if he had the kind of voice that echoed in your bones.

Not long after I got home, my phone beeped.

Text from Chloe Carter: Dinner tonight. 8PM. Les Gourmets. Don’t be late.

I groaned. Loudly.

Jason’s mother didn’t text like a woman making a request. She texted like she ran a damn empire and, in a way, she did.

I considered ignoring her, but then sighed. It wasn’t worth the battle. I slipped back into my black leggings, tossed on a beige trench coat, tied my hair into a sleek low bun, added a touch of gloss, and headed out.

I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. Least of all Chloe Carter.

------

Les Gourmets was dim and pretentious. The lighting was golden; the walls dripped with art that looked like it cost more than my entire wardrobe. Jason stood as I approached, dressed in a navy suit that screamed money and generational privilege.

“Ava,” he said, flashing a smile. “You look… relaxed.”

“Try not to sound so shocked,” I replied, sliding into the booth.

Moments later, Chloe made her grand entrance. Her gray silk dress looked like something pulled from a New York fashion house. Her hair was coiled tightly into a chignon, every step of her heels echoing her control.

She barely glanced at me before sitting down. “You’re late.”

“I’m three minutes early,” I replied.

She lifted one brow. “Punctuality is everything.”

Dinner began with salad and tension. Chloe asked me questions she didn’t care to know the answers to.

“How’s your company?”

“What are your goals after the wedding?”

“Do you believe in legacy, Ava?”

It felt like a job interview where the position had already been filled by my womb and surname.

Jason tried to cut the tension with small talk, but Chloe’s side-eye shut him down every time.

Then came the bomb.

“This marriage isn’t just about feelings,” she said, cutting into her steak. “It’s about alignment. Strategy. Reassurance to both sides that our families remain united after the unfortunate financial… mishaps.”

I paused, fork mid-air. “Excuse me?”

She met my gaze evenly. “You’re not a child, Ava. Your father signed over partial control to ensure his mess didn’t surface. This engagement ensures balance.”

Jason looked down. His silence screamed complicity.

My heart raced. My mind rotating. Was this what it had always been? A payoff? A silencing tool?

“Does Jason know?” I asked quietly.

He didn’t look at me. “I know enough.”

The air turned thick. My appetite vanished.

“I see,” I said, grabbing my purse. “Thank you for dinner.”

I stood to leave, but Chloe’s voice stopped me cold.

“Think carefully before walking away, Ava. This arrangement protects your family more than it benefits ours.”

Outside, the wind slapped me back into focus. I walked fast. Away from their money, their lies.

But even as I stormed toward my car, my thoughts didn’t stay with Jason or his controlling mother.

They stayed with the man in the elevator, who hadn’t even told me his name…

But, already knew mine.