Fractured Bonds

DANGERS OF PROPOSALS

Ava

Ava wasn't a girl to lose her temper in public, but the minute she stepped out onto the balcony, distant from the sly grins and subdued propositions of the ballroom, she yearned to shriek.

She should have known. Her father never did anything without an ulterior motive. And now, he was trying to marry her off like a commodity.

The sound of footsteps approaching made her back rigid.

She didn't have to turn around to recognize whose voice it was. Damien Lancaster.

He moved across the room as if he owned every room he ever entered—smooth, controlled, deadly.

Ava refused to give him the satisfaction of looking his way. "Did you come here to gloat?"

Low, husky laughter. "Why would I?"

"Because guys like you enjoy playing games of power. And my dad just offered me to you on a silver platter."

Damien leaned against the railing beside her, completely at ease. "Your father made an offer, Ava. That doesn't necessarily mean I took it."

That brought her up short. He hadn't taken?

She turned to him, searching for any sign of deceit on his face. "Then why are you here?"

His lips twisted up a little. "Because I'm curious."

Ava's brow rose. "About what? My name? My father's money?"

"No." His voice lowered, becoming something harder. "About you."

The tone in which he spoke sent an unwanted shiver down her spine.

Ava forced herself to sneer. "Guess again. Think I'm special?"

Damien's eyes stayed locked on hers. "I don't think, Ava. I know."

Her breath caught before she could stop it. Damn him. He was too good at this game.

She turned away, gripping the balcony railing. "Well, don't waste your time. I don't have any use for whatever deal my father is making with you."

Damien went silently for a moment. And then he said something that made her stomach twist.

"You don't even know what it is."

Ava scowled at him. "You think I care?"

He smiled, but his eyes held something calculating. "It's not money, Ava. It's protection."

She laughed, a rough sound. "I don't need protecting."

Damien did not smile once more. His eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. "You might. Before you realize it."

Ava's laughter died. "What are you saying?"

But before he could answer, the balcony doors slid open and her father's voice yelled out.

"Ava, in here. Now."

Her father stood there, his expression cold. The moment she faltered, his eyes moved to Damien.

"We need to talk."

Damien didn't move, but Ava felt the tension in the air shift. Whatever this was, it was bigger than she was aware.

And she wasn't sure she was ready for the truth.

Damien

While Ava entered the house, Damien stayed outside, his fingers tapping against the railing.

Richard Sinclair was taking a dangerous gamble.

Damien did not like forced marriages or mergers of businesses by coercion. He had built his empire on ruthlessness and control, not on diplomacy and alliances. But something in the deal—something in Ava herself—caused him to hesitate.

She was fire. Rebellion wrapped in silk.

And something more.

A threat.

Ava had no idea what was fermenting.

But she would. Lena.

And when she did, she'd realize that Damien wasn't merely a hand-holding helper—he was the only thing standing between her and disaster.

He just wasn't certain if she'd thank him for it…

Or hate him forever.