contract Bonds

chapter 8

JADEN

Ava burst into my office like a storm wearing heels.

“Jaden, you’re not going to believe what happened to me today!”

She was glowing with the kind of excitement that usually meant trouble or something expensive. I looked up from the quarterly pitch deck I was reviewing.

“Please tell me you didn’t buy another boat.”

She rolled her eyes and flopped into the chair across from me. “No, better. I met someone—well, someone amazing.”

I arched a brow. “A new influencer?”

“No,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Someone who stopped me from being publicly humiliated in a boutique. Saved me from a complete PR meltdown.”

My curiosity piqued. “What happened?”

“There was this fight in a store..... some bratty girl was throwing a tantrum over a dress and shoes, and I just happened to be the unlucky one holding them first. This woman—Angela—stepped in and defused everything like some elegant, fashion-forward superhero. Totally calm. Totally composed. She shut down the drama and somehow made the brat walk out empty-handed without lifting a finger.”

“Angela,” I repeated slowly.

“Yeah, Angela Parker. She owns FireStitch. I didn’t realize it at first, but when she said her name I nearly fainted. Her work is brilliant, and she’s even more impressive in person. She’s smart, sharp, stunning…” Ava leaned in, eyes twinkling. “I invited her to Fashion Forward.”

I blinked. “You what?”

“She deserves to be there. And more importantly, I want you to meet her. You have to come with me this weekend. Promise me you will.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’ve got people working on something. I might already know her.”

Ava’s brows shot up. “What?”

“I had this… encounter. A while ago. I didn’t get her name. But I’ve had Ethan trying to trace her for weeks. It was supposed to be nothing, but…”

“But she’s haunting you,” Ava said with a sly grin. “Wow. Mr. Iceberg has caught feelings.”

I glared at her. “Shut up.”

“Just come to the show. You can thank me later when you realize I fixed your love life.”

I returned to my work, but her words followed me all day. Her name. Angela.

The week passed in a blur of meetings, reports, and Ethan’s increasingly vague updates.

We’re narrowing it down, he said Thursday.

We’ve got something interesting, he said Friday.

But nothing concrete.

Then Saturday came.

Ava called at 8 a.m.

“You’re coming, right?”

“I don’t know—”

“Jaden. Don’t make me show up at your place with my heels and my sass.”

I sighed, looked at the mirror, and realized I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the night we met. The not-knowing was eating at me.

“Fine,” I said. “But I’m leaving if it gets too loud.”

“Deal,” she chirped. “See you there.”

___________

I threw on a tailored black suit and skipped the tie. The venue was already buzzing when I arrived. A sea of champagne, cameras, and high fashion.

It was held at one of the most luxurious rooftop halls in the city, draped in rich velvet, warm lights, and the faint scent of expensive perfume. Models drifted around like walking art pieces, and everyone looked like they'd stepped out of a glossy editorial.

I found Ava near the back, drink in hand, glowing in a satin navy gown.

“There’s the brooding king,” she said, linking her arm in mine. “Come. She’s around here somewhere.”

I scanned the room, my pulse accelerating for no logical reason.

Every woman that passed by was examined, quickly dismissed. None of them were her. But something tugged at me, a visceral pull I couldn't explain.

Music shifted, signaling the show’s opening was moments away. Guests began to drift toward the runway deck, a sea of silk and sequins.

And then—

My eyes collided with hers.

Standing across the hall near the entrance to the runway deck, she was laughing at something a woman beside her whispered, her body angled slightly toward the lights.

Same hair. Same eyes. Same fire.

My breath caught.

It was her. The woman from the bar. The one whose eyes had seared into my memory and never left.

She wore a dark green satin dress that hugged her curves like it had been poured onto her body. It clung to her waist, accentuating the delicious dip of her hips and the way her thighs shifted beneath the silk as she moved. Her breasts sat high and full, perfectly framed by the sweetheart neckline, drawing every red-blooded man in the room to look—and hate himself for it.

Her hair was swept up, exposing the long line of her neck and the delicate curve of her jaw. Confidence radiated off her, calm and composed, yet something wild shimmered beneath the surface.

She looked like sin wrapped in elegance. Like temptation you didn’t just fall into—you dove headfirst, knowing damn well you wouldn’t come out the same.

She tilted her head slightly and her eyes—those damn eyes—swept the room and landed on me. Just for a heartbeat.

The noise in the hall dropped away.

There were people talking. Flashbulbs popping. A murmur of excitement building as the lights dimmed in preparation for the first walk. But none of it registered. Not when she was looking at me.

Recognition flickered in her gaze. A flash of something uncertain, something soft, something sharp.

And I knew.

Fuck. f**k. f**k.

That’s her.

The girl from the bar. The one I’ve been obsessing over like a lunatic. The one I couldn’t forget.

Angela. Parker.

I stood frozen, heart hammering, mouth dry.

Ava looked up at me, confused. “Jaden?”

I barely heard her. My body was already moving.

Toward her.