CHAPTER ONE
It had been a long day—one of those days that made Ava Collins question every choice she’d made that led her to this point. The noise of Manhattan was always loud, but tonight, it felt like a distant echo against the buzz in her head.
She was exhausted, emotionally and mentally, but when her best friend and roommate, Candace, barged into their apartment waving two VIP invites to an exclusive industry after-party, Ava had sighed and given in.
“You need this,” Candace said, throwing a black dress at her. “You’ve been married to your laptop for six months. You deserve one night of freedom.”
Now, standing on the rooftop of a luxury hotel in midtown, Ava felt out of place. The skyline was stunning, but the people were shinier—polished, powerful, confident. She was just... a freelance interior designer trying to stay afloat.
She moved to the bar, ordered something safe—a glass of white wine—and leaned against the counter, watching as socialites laughed too loudly and men in suits closed deals over cocktails.
That’s when she felt it—a presence.
Turning slightly, she saw him.
Tall. Clean-cut. Dark hair that curled slightly at the ends. A custom-fit suit that screamed wealth but not arrogance. And eyes—those piercing, steel-gray eyes—that locked onto hers with unnerving precision.
“Rough day?” he asked, voice smooth as velvet.
Ava blinked. “Is it that obvious?”
He smiled, slow and intentional. “Only because I’ve had a few myself.”
They talked. It started with sarcasm—she teased his overly perfect tie, he joked about her ‘art school vibes.’ But soon, it shifted. The conversation deepened. They talked about dreams, frustrations, moments they’d never admitted out loud.
He didn’t ask her name. She didn’t ask his.
Ava liked that. It felt safe to stay anonymous—like whatever this was didn’t have to mean anything beyond tonight.
Two hours later, they were in the elevator. Silent. Close. Her heart thundered.
His penthouse suite overlooked the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a fireplace, a bottle of bourbon opened like it was second nature.
But it wasn’t the luxury that undid her.
It was the way he looked at her. Like he saw her. Like she mattered.
Their kiss was gentle at first. Then desperate. The rest—clothes on the floor, hands memorizing skin, whispers in the dark—it was a blur of heat and need and surrender.
She woke before dawn, tangled in white sheets beside a stranger who didn’t feel like a stranger.
And then she left.
No name. No note. Just the lingering ache of something that wasn’t supposed to last.
*******
Eight weeks later, Ava sat on the edge of her tub, a pregnancy test in her trembling hands.
Positive.
Her mind raced.
She had no name. No contact. Not even a clue who the father really was.The last person she had s*x with was the mystery man she met weeks back.
But she remembered the steel-gray eyes.
The man who had only existed for one night.
Now he existed forever.
Inside her.
