The serviced apartment was silent after Ava left. Tristan sat on the couch, shirt half-unbuttoned, the faint scent of her perfume still clinging to his skin.
His phone buzzed with updates from TMP’s legal team. He scrolled lazily through the numbers on the screen— revenue, projections, acquisition targets.
A faint smirk curved his lips. “Perfect,” he murmured.
He tossed the phone aside and leaned back, eyes distant.
A flicker of memory with Ava flashed in his mind. The way her voice trembled when she told him it was wrong.
The way she didn’t pull away when he touched her. The guilt, the hesitation… the surrender.
He knew it was leverage, but he loved every moment of it.
To him, she was a pawn wrapped in silk. Intelligent, beautiful, but perfectly placed to deliver everything he w
