The Billion Dollar Wife

#3.

Ava smoothed the silk of her dress, her reflection staring back with a confidence she hadn’t quite felt until this moment.

“You’re going to be the only person in that room worth looking tonight, Ava,” Olivia whispered, her eyes bright with a mix of excitement and vicarious thrill. “I mean it. They won’t even know what hit them.”

Ava caught her friend’s gaze in the glass, a slow, sharp smirk pulling at her lips. She didn’t just want to be noticed, she wanted to be the center of gravity. “Let them look. I didn’t spend three hours on my makeup to blend into the wallpaper.”

Olivia laughed, grabbing a crystal bottle from the vanity. She spritzed a cloud of jasmine and sandalwood over Ava’s shoulders, the scent heavy and expensive. “Go out there and find someone who deserves to buy you a bottle of this every week. We’re done playing small, okay? It’s time to live a little.”

“Living large requires a specific kind of partner, Liv,” Ava teased, checking her clutch one last time.

“And what’s the criteria tonight?”

Ava turned, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she moved toward the door. She paused, looking back over her shoulder with a glint of something dangerous in her eyes. “Soft voice, hard grip. That’s the only way I’ll stay interested.”

Olivia burst into a genuine, rowdy laugh, the sound echoing through the small apartment. “God, you’re ruthless. Go. The car’s downstairs, and I’m expecting a full report by morning, preferably one involving a diamond or a very expensive business card.” She punctuated the command with a playful smack to Ava’s hip, ushering her out.

A black limousine sat idling at the curb, its tinted windows reflecting the streetlamps. The driver was already out, holding the door open with a gloved hand and a respectful dip of his head.

“You look beautiful tonight, ma’am,” he said, his voice quiet.

“Thank you,” Ava replied. She slid into the plush leather interior, the door closing with a heavy, expensive thud.

The drive was short, barely ten minutes but it felt like a transformation. By the time the car slowed to a halt in front of the grand estate, the nerves she’d been suppressing began to pulse in her throat. She took a long, steady breath, centering herself.

Don’t flinch, she told herself. You belong in this room.

The door opened. Light spilled into the car, accompanied by the muffled roar of a high society crowd and the clinking of crystal. Ava stepped out, her chin tilting upward instinctively. She didn't rush. She walked with a slow grace, the slit of her dress revealing just enough to keep people guessing.

As she crossed the threshold into the gala, the ambient noise didn't stop, but it shifted. Conversations dipped in volume, heads pivoted in a synchronized wave of curiosity. Ava didn’t look at any of them. She kept her gaze fixed on the far end of the room. She could feel the weight of a hundred stares, and for the first time in her life, she didn't just endure the attention, she owned it.

— —

Dominic checked his watch, a constant reminder of the time he was losing. He stood stiffly beside his brother, Silas. Being here was a strategic necessity, one more outburst or public scandal and his father would officially scrub him from the family’s good list.

He was halfway through a mental countdown to his departure when the room shifted.

Dominic turned, expecting another local socialite or a minor diplomat. Instead, his pulse thudded once, hard, against his ribs.

A woman in a red silk dress, slit high enough to be a provocation, moved through the crowd with the effortless grace of a predator. She was alone, navigating the sea of black tuxedos without a hint of hesitation.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. He knew that face. He remembered the sharp sting of hot coffee soaking into his shirt the day before, and the way she’d looked at him then, not with an apology, but with a challenge.

"Now that," Silas murmured, his voice oily with appreciation, "is a lovely sight to behold."

Dominic felt a flash of irrational irritation. He watched the men in the room track her progress, their gazes heavy with a mixture of hunger and blatant entitlement. Just as he was about to look away, her eyes found his. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she let a slow, flirtatious smile curl her lips before she looked away, disappearing toward the buffet.

Dominic handed his wine glass to a passing waiter without taking his eyes off her. "Let’s see what you’re actually hunting," he muttered to himself, stepping into the crowd.

— —

Ava plucked a grape from a silver platter, her movements casual even as she felt the heat of the room on her back. She caught sight of her real target, the one with the cold eyes and the sharp jawline moving through the crowd toward her. She didn't wait. Slipping away from the food, she ducked through a set of French doors onto a darkened balcony. The air was freezing, but the solitude was exactly what she needed to set the stage.

"And what brings a girl like you to a place like this?"

The voice was a low. Ava turned, feigning a small gasp of surprise. "Oh. You? We really must stop meeting like this. People will start to talk."

Dominic stepped out of the light of the ballroom, the silhouette of his tuxedo cutting a sharp line against the night sky. He didn't look amused. He walked straight into her personal space, stopping only when he could scent the jasmine on her skin.

"I’m trying to place you," he said, his tone dropping into something dangerously quiet. "I’ve checked the guest list. You aren't on it. You aren't 'someone,' and yet, here you are, dressed like a siren."

Ava smirked, stepping closer until her chest almost brushed his lapel. "Have you forgotten what I told you yesterday?"

Dominic’s jaw tightened. "If you’re here to sink your claws into my father, don't bother. He’s incredibly loyal to his deceased wife. He doesn't have a taste for girls who trade their dignity for a designer label."

Ava’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of genuine distaste. "How can you speak about your own mother like that? 'Deceased wife'?"

"What I call her is none of your business," he snapped.

"And what I’m doing here isn't yours," she shot back, her voice low and fierce.

Dominic let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "It’s exactly my business when someone I’m not familiar with walks into my family's event. Tell me your price. What will it take for you to disappear and never cross my path again? I’ll write the check now."

Ava’s eyes widened, her pride stinging more than the cold air. "I don't need your money. I can get whatever I want from your—"

The word 'father' was halfway out of her mouth when Dominic’s hand shot out. His fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck, not painfully, but with a firm, inescapable grip that forced her head back. He surged forward, pinning her against the stone wall of the balcony. The heat of his body was a direct contrast to the icy wind.

"Say my father’s name one more time," he hissed, his face inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin, "and I will erase you. I’ll make it so you never existed."

Ava’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she didn't pull away. She stared into his dark, furious eyes, her own defiance sparking like a live wire.

"Dominic! What the hell is going on here?"

A voice boomed. They both froze. Dominic’s father stood in the doorway, his face a mask of shock and burgeoning rage as he took in his son’s aggressive stance and the half dressed woman pinned with him.