MY MOTHER'S BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND

CHAPTER 2

AVA'S POV

For a few seconds, neither of us looked away.

Then my mother cleared her throat.

I blinked and turned toward her.

She was standing near the doorway, smiling at us.

"Everything okay?"

"Perfectly," Damian said.

I picked up my glass.

"Fine."

My mother seemed satisfied.

"Good. Dinner is ready."

I followed them into the dining room, silently grateful for the distraction.

The table looked ridiculous.

There were enough plates and glasses to feed twenty people, yet there were only three of us.

My mother took the seat beside Damian.

I sat opposite them.

As dinner began, my mother immediately launched into wedding plans.

"I've already spoken to the planner," she said. "I want something elegant. Nothing excessive."

I almost choked on my water.

My mother wanted nothing excessive.

That was a new one.

"How many guests?" I asked.

"About three hundred."

I raised an eyebrow.

"That's not excessive?"

She ignored me.

"Damian wants something smaller."

I looked at him.

"You do?"

"I don't care about the size."

My mother smiled.

"He says he only wants the people who matter."

"That's sensible," I said.

Damian looked at me.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you should help with the guest list."

My mother immediately smiled.

"Excellent idea."

I regretted speaking.

"I didn't say—"

"You'll help me," my mother said.

"Of course."

Damian smiled.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"So," my mother continued, "Ava, tell Damian about university."

I stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because he wants to know you."

I looked at Damian.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

His answer was immediate.

I shifted in my seat.

"I'm in my final year."

"What are you studying?" he asked.

"Business and finance."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Sometimes."

"What do you want to do after graduation?"

I shrugged.

"Find a job."

"Doing what?"

"Anything that pays."

My mother frowned.

"Ava."

"What?"

"Don't say that."

"Why?"

"It makes you sound like you have no ambition."

I laughed.

"I have ambition. I'm just realistic."

Damian's expression changed.

"I agree with her."

My mother looked at him.

"You do?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting financial security."

I looked at him.

"Exactly."

He nodded.

"What kind of work interests you?"

"Finance. Maybe investment management."

"Why?"

"Because I like numbers."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes."

He took a sip of his wine.

"You'll do well."

Something about the certainty in his voice made me uncomfortable.

"You don't know that."

"I know people."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can usually tell when someone is capable."

My mother smiled.

"See? I told you he'd like you."

I nearly rolled my eyes.

"That's not exactly what he said."

Damian laughed softly.

I looked down at my plate.

There it was again.

That smile.

I needed to stop noticing it.

Immediately.

Dinner continued.

My mother did most of the talking.

Damian listened.

I watched them together.

They looked good.

That was the irritating part.

My mother looked happy.

Genuinely happy.

She reached across the table and touched his hand.

He smiled at her.

For the first time that evening, I felt guilty.

Whatever strange attraction I had felt when I'd first seen him, it was wrong.

He was hers.

Or he would be.

I needed to remember that.

I lowered my eyes.

"Ava?"

I looked up.

Damian was watching me.

"Yes?"

"You've gone quiet."

"I'm tired."

"Long day?"

"Very."

He nodded.

My mother glanced at her phone.

"I need to take this."

She stood.

"Don't disappear."

She walked out of the dining room.

I watched her leave.

Then looked back at Damian.

He was already looking at me.

I immediately reached for my water.

"This is awkward."

"Why?"

"Because we're alone."

"We were alone earlier."

"That was different."

"How?"

I didn't know how to answer.

So I didn't.

He leaned back.

"You don't trust me."

I frowned.

"I don't know you."

"That's not the same thing."

"Maybe it is."

"Perhaps."

Silence settled between us.

I looked toward the doorway.

My mother still hadn't returned.

"Does she always leave people alone like this?"

"Apparently."

I laughed.

"She does it all the time."

"You don't seem surprised."

"I'm used to her."

He studied me.

"You're close to her?"

I hesitated.

"Not particularly."

"Why?"

I looked down.

"She's my mother."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"No."

He waited.

I sighed.

"My mother has always been more interested in being someone's wife than being my mother."

His expression softened.

"That must have been difficult."

I shrugged.

"I'm used to it."

"You're not supposed to be used to things like that."

I looked at him.

There was something unexpectedly sincere in his voice.

I didn't know what to do with it.

"So why are you marrying her?"

His eyes held mine.

"Because I want to."

"That's not an answer."

"It is."

"No. It's what people say when they don't want to explain themselves."

He smiled faintly.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I've been told."

"You're suspicious."

"I'm careful."

"There's a difference."

"Not always."

He nodded.

"Fair enough."

The door opened.

My mother returned.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No," I said quickly.

Damian said nothing.

My mother sat down.

"Good."

I finished my dessert as quickly as possible.

I needed to leave.

I needed distance.

Most importantly, I needed to stop thinking about the man sitting across from me.

After dinner, my mother insisted on showing Damian the family photographs.

I escaped to the terrace.

The night air was cooler now.

I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes.

This was ridiculous.

I had met the man once.

Once.

And somehow he had managed to occupy far too much space inside my head.

The terrace door opened.

I didn't turn around.

"I was wondering where you went."

My heart tightened.

Damian.

"Fresh air."

He stepped beside me.

"You could have stayed inside."

"I needed a break."

"From your mother?"

"From everything."

He smiled.

"That sounds exhausting."

"You have no idea."

For a moment, we simply stood there.

The city lights stretched beyond the garden.

Then Damian spoke.

"Your mother told me you're struggling financially."

I stiffened.

"She did?"

"Yes."

"She shouldn't have."

"Perhaps."

I turned toward him.

"I don't need your help."

"I didn't offer it."

I blinked.

"Then why mention it?"

"Because you looked uncomfortable when she brought it up."

I stared at him.

"You notice too much."

"So do you."

I looked away.

He was right.

I noticed him.

Too much.

The way his sleeves were rolled slightly at the wrist.

The expensive watch on his arm.

The quiet confidence in the way he stood.

The fact that he never seemed to fidget.

And most annoyingly, the way he looked at me.

Not like a daughter.

Not like a stranger.

Just... like Ava.

I swallowed.

"You should go back inside."

"Why?"

"Because you're marrying my mother."

He went silent.

I finally looked at him.

His expression had changed.

"I know."

"Then you understand why this is strange."

"Yes."

"Good."

I pushed away from the railing.

"I'm going upstairs."

"Ava."

I stopped.

"You're not responsible for making this marriage comfortable for me."

I turned.

"What?"

"You don't have to pretend to like me."

"I don't dislike you."

"I know."

That answer caught me off guard.

He stepped closer, but kept enough distance between us to make the space feel deliberate.

"I want you to know something."

"What?"

"I won't expect you to call me anything you aren't comfortable with."

I frowned.

"Like what?"

"Stepfather."

My stomach tightened.

"Okay."

"And I won't interfere in your relationship with your mother."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're her daughter."

He paused.

"And because I don't want you feeling like I'm taking her away from you."

I looked at him.

For the first time, I understood why my mother had fallen for him.

He wasn't simply handsome.

He was careful.

Controlled.

He knew exactly what to say.

And that was somehow more dangerous.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He nodded.

I walked toward the door.

Then stopped.

"Goodnight, Damian."

"Goodnight, Ava."

I went upstairs.

I closed the bedroom door behind me.

Then leaned against it.

My heart was beating too fast.

I pressed my fingers against my chest.

"This is nothing."

I said it aloud.

It was nothing.

A stupid attraction.

A temporary reaction.

Something that would disappear once I got used to him.

He was my mother's fiancé.

Soon, he would be my stepfather.

There were boundaries.

There were rules.

And I knew better than to cross them.

I changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed.

My phone buzzed.

A message from my mother.

Damian liked you.

I stared at it.

Then typed:

Good.

Her reply came almost immediately.

He wants to take you shopping tomorrow.

I frowned.

No.

Three dots appeared.

Then:

Don't argue. He insists.

I threw my phone onto the pillow.

Of course he did.

I didn't understand why Damian Cross suddenly cared about what I needed.

I didn't understand why he noticed things my own mother barely noticed.

And I certainly didn't understand why the thought of seeing him again tomorrow made something inside me flutter.

I closed my eyes.

Tomorrow, I would keep my distance.

I had to.

Because whatever had happened tonight, whatever strange tension existed between us, I knew one thing for certain.

Damian Cross was going to become my mother's husband.

And that meant whatever I felt for him had to disappear.

Before it became something neither of us could take back.