Tempted by Her

Chapter 3: Morning After

Ava woke to sunlight slicing through the blinds, her head pounding slightly, the events of last night rushing back like a tidal wave.

Her cheeks burned as she recalled every stolen glance, every heated kiss, the way Damian had carried her into that suite…

“Oh no,” she whispered, scrambling out of the bed. Her clothes — barely put on — twisted awkwardly around her, and she tugged at them, ignoring comfort in her rush to leave. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, and without thinking, she grabbed it and darted toward the door.

Only halfway down the hall did it hit her: her necklace. The delicate chain, the pendant engraved with “A.V.” — her father’s gift on her eighteenth birthday. A lump formed in her throat, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Outside, the city was waking up. Ava flagged a cab, hardly caring about the driver’s confused glance. She pressed the button to the backseat, muttered the address of Tessa’s apartment, and let the taxi swallow her into the streets of Los Angeles.

Meanwhile, Tessa had spent the early hours calling Ava’s phone and pacing her apartment, worry gnawing at her chest. She didn’t know where Ava had vanished, and every unanswered call made her stomach twist tighter.

When Ava finally burst through the door, cheeks still flushed from embarrassment, Tessa’s hands flew to her hips.

“Ava! Where were you? I called you like a hundred times!”

“I… I needed to get out,” Ava said, voice shaking, cheeks burning. “I didn’t… I just…”

Tessa didn’t need more. She could see the lingering heat on Ava’s face, the restless energy in her posture, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulders.

“You’re going to tell me everything,” Tessa said softly, but the sharp edge of concern lingered.

Across town, Damian stirred in the suite, sunlight brushing against his chest. He stretched, a slow grin spreading across his face. His memory of last night was vivid, intoxicating — and incomplete.

He glanced down and spotted it: the delicate chain of a necklace, left behind carelessly on the nightstand. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands, eyes narrowing as he traced the engraving: A.V.

Ava.

He hadn’t even learned her name last night — hadn’t asked, hadn’t needed to. And yet, here she was, leaving a piece of herself behind, like a breadcrumb he couldn’t ignore.

The smile lingered, slow and knowing. He didn’t need her name to know she had already left an impression he wouldn’t forget.