chapter5
1266 Words
Ava didn’t expect to dream about him—but she did.
That night, sleep wrapped itself around her like a soft fog, and in it, Liam wasn’t cold or calculated. He was laughing. Holding her hand, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, whispering something she couldn’t quite hear in the dream but felt in her chest.
When she woke up, she hated that she’d smiled.
The next few days passed in a carefully orchestrated ballet of appearances. Hand-in-hand at a charity gala. Coordinated smiles at a Carter Enterprises press event. A dinner with the board, where Ava was paraded like the prize he'd won.
She was adjusting to the script, hitting her marks, learning to wear expensive heels without stumbling. But behind the polish, behind the designer dresses and the carefully curated i********: posts, something had changed.
Liam had changed.
Or maybe she had.
Because now, whenever he reached for her hand in public, she wasn’t flinching anymore. She didn’t have to fake the flush in her cheeks when he leaned in and whispered something sarcastic in her ear. They were still pretending—but sometimes, only she seemed to remember that.
It came to a head on a Tuesday evening.
They were back at the penthouse after a PR event at a tech conference in SoHo. Ava had been in heels for six hours straight, and Liam had fended off five reporters and one very persistent ex-business partner. The elevator doors slid shut behind them, trapping them in the warm quiet of their sanctuary.
Ava kicked off her shoes with a groan. “Remind me again why I agreed to this circus?”
Liam loosened his tie and poured himself a scotch. “Because you’re brave, broke, and slightly reckless.”
“And you’re charming, rich, and completely insufferable,” she shot back, reaching for a bottle of water.
He laughed, the sound low and unexpectedly genuine. “Touché.”
Ava dropped onto the couch, pulling her knees up under her. She was still in the designer gown, makeup half-faded, hair tousled from hours of photo flashes. But for once, she didn’t care. Liam had already seen her at her worst—barefaced, crying in a hospital hallway. That kind of vulnerability changed things.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” she asked suddenly.
He looked over. “Of what?”
“The act. The money. The pressure. The people pretending they care when they’re really just watching your wallet.”
He walked over and sat across from her, their knees nearly touching. “Every damn day.”
She stared at him. “Then why do it?”
Liam shrugged. “Because walking away from the empire means letting my grandfather win. And he never wanted a legacy—he wanted a puppet. I can’t give him that satisfaction.”
Ava watched him for a long beat. “You don’t talk about your family much.”
“They’re not worth talking about,” he said, sipping his scotch.
“Your grandfather raised you, right?”
Liam nodded. “After my parents died. Car accident. I was nine.”
Her breath caught. “I didn’t know.”
He didn’t flinch. “Not many do. He took me in, raised me to take over the company. Trained me like a soldier more than a grandson. Love was conditional. Approval was currency. I learned early that emotions got in the way.”
Ava leaned forward. “And now?”
He met her eyes. “Now I hire a stranger to pretend to love me so I can secure my birthright. So, clearly, I’ve evolved.”
She didn’t smile. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use sarcasm to deflect. It’s a lousy armor.”
His gaze flickered. For a moment, the mask slipped. Not much—but enough.
“Then stop looking at me like you see through it.”
“Maybe I do.”
Silence.
The room suddenly felt too small, the air too thick.
Liam cleared his throat and stood. “You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” she asked, already regretting how easily he could shut down.
“Dinner with my grandmother. She wants to meet my bride-to-be.”
Ava blinked. “She’s still alive?”
“Very much so. And very skeptical. She’s the only person in the Carter family whose opinion actually matters to me. So if you plan on insulting anyone, aim for the butler.”
Ava stood too. “You think I’m going to mess this up?”
He stepped closer. “I think you don’t know how charming you can be when you stop trying so hard.”
She folded her arms. “You think you know everything about me?”
“No,” he said quietly. “But I’m starting to want to.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t expect the heat that bloomed in her chest—or the sudden awareness of how close they were. Inches. A heartbeat. Maybe two.
“You really want to make this harder?” she whispered.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Liam said. “But it stopped feeling fake the moment I started caring whether or not you were okay.”
Ava looked away, her heartbeat thudding in her ears. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I don’t say anything I don’t mean,” he replied. “You should know that by now.”
The moment hung, fragile and burning.
Then—like a curtain dropping—Ava stepped back.
“Goodnight, Liam.”
He watched her walk away. Didn’t follow. Didn’t stop her.
But he didn’t turn away, either.
The next day, Ava dressed in a soft navy dress Liam’s stylist had left for her, simple but elegant. She pulled her curls into a low bun and added a pair of gold earrings her mother had left her.
Liam didn’t say much on the drive to his grandmother’s estate in Westchester. He looked tired again. Or maybe distracted. Either way, Ava didn’t press.
When they arrived, she was stunned.
The estate wasn’t flashy like the penthouse. It was timeless—stone columns, ivy crawling up the walls, a garden that looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel.
“Ready?” he asked as the butler opened the door.
“Not even a little,” she muttered.
They were led into a sunlit sitting room, where an older woman stood waiting.
Eleanor Carter was elegance in motion. Silver hair in a chignon, flawless posture, and a gaze sharp enough to slice steel.
“So,” she said, eyes narrowing slightly. “This is the girl who’s going to tame the lion.”
Ava froze. Liam stepped forward.
“Grandmother, this is Ava Morgan.”
Eleanor extended her hand. “You have a strong name. I hope you’re just as strong.”
“I don’t tame lions,” Ava replied. “But I’m pretty good at avoiding being eaten.”
To her surprise, Eleanor smiled. “Then you might survive this family after all.”
Dinner was a formal affair, but not uncomfortable. Eleanor grilled her on everything—law school, Brooklyn, her opinions on ethics in corporate governance. Ava held her own.
And by the end of the night, Eleanor looked at her grandson and said simply, “This one’s better than the last. Don’t ruin it.”
Ava pretended not to hear.
But Liam caught her eye across the table, and for once, didn’t look away.
- Writer
