Chapter 16
1458 Words
[Ethan]
The ballroom of the Plaza Hotel glittered with New York's elite, a sea of designer gowns and tailored tuxedos. I stood at the bar, nursing a glass of scotch, my eyes scanning the crowd with practiced indifference. These social events were a necessary evil in my line of work, a chance to network and close deals in a more relaxed setting. But tonight, my mind was elsewhere, fixated on the dinner I was supposed to have with Ava tomorrow evening.
"Mr. Blackwood," a sultry voice purred beside me. I turned to see Sophia Reyes, the stunning Latina head of a rival hotel chain, sidling up to the bar. "Fancy meeting you here."
I nodded politely, keeping my expression neutral. "Ms. Reyes. Enjoying the evening?"
Sophia leaned in, her perfume wafting over me. "It just got a lot more interesting. Care to dance?"
Before I could formulate a polite rejection, a flash of golden hair caught my eye. My breath caught in my throat as I saw her across the room. Ava.
She was a vision in a deep emerald gown that hugged every curve, her hair cascading down her back in soft waves. As she laughed at something her companion said, I felt a familiar ache in my chest. God, she was beautiful. And I hated her for it.
"Ethan?" Sophia's voice broke through my trance. "Is everything alright?"
I tore my gaze away from Ava, forcing myself to focus on the woman in front of me. "My apologies, Sophia. I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for dancing tonight. If you'll excuse me."
I walked away before she could respond, my feet carrying me inexorably towards Ava. It was like being pulled by an invisible thread, a magnetic force I couldn't resist even if I wanted to.
Ava's eyes widened as she saw me approach, a flicker of something – surprise? Desire? – crossing her face before she schooled her features into a mask of polite indifference.
"Ethan," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "I didn't expect to see you here."
I allowed myself a moment to drink her in up close. The way the emerald of her dress made her eyes shine like jewels. The delicate curve of her neck, begging to be kissed. The soft swell of her breasts, rising and falling with each breath.
"Likewise," I replied, my voice gruffer than I'd intended. "You look... nice."
Nice. What an understatement. She looked f*****g radiant, and it was driving me crazy. I wanted to grab her, to shake her, to press her up against the nearest wall and remind her body of everything it had been missing for the past five years.
But I also wanted to yell at her, to demand answers for every moment of Oliver's life that I'd missed, for every sleepless night I'd spent wondering what I'd done wrong.
Ava's companion, a distinguished-looking man in his fifties, cleared his throat pointedly. "Ava, darling, aren't you going to introduce us?"
I bristled at the endearment, an irrational surge of jealousy coursing through me. Ava flushed slightly, looking uncomfortable.
"Of course. Ethan, this is Charles Worthington, a major donor to the Sinclair Foundation. Charles, this is Ethan Blackwood, my... Oliver's father."
The pause before "Oliver's father" felt like a physical blow. Was that all I was to her now? Just the biological contributor to our son's existence?
Charles extended his hand, his grip firm. "Ah, yes. I've heard a great deal about you, Mr. Blackwood. Your reputation precedes you."
I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ava. "All good things, I hope?"
Ava's cheeks reddened further. "Ethan, please. This isn't the time or place."
Her discomfort only fueled the conflicting emotions raging inside me. Part of me wanted to apologize, to smooth things over. But another part, the part still raw from years of hurt and anger, wanted to push her buttons, to make her feel as off-balance as I did.
"You're right," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "Perhaps we should save this conversation for our dinner tomorrow night. That is, unless you've changed your mind?"
Ava's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else – desire? "Of course not. I'll be there."
Charles looked between us, clearly sensing the tension. "Well, I think I'll go freshen up my drink. Ava, shall I bring you another champagne?"
Ava nodded gratefully. "That would be lovely, thank you, Charles."
As Charles walked away, Ava turned to me, her eyes narrowed. "What are you playing at, Ethan?"
I stepped closer, close enough to catch the familiar scent of her perfume. Vanilla and jasmine, the same scent that used to linger on my pillows. "I'm not playing at anything, Ava. I just think it's interesting that you can make time for galas and drinks with wealthy donors, but finding time to discuss our son's future is such a chore."
Ava's jaw clenched. "That's not fair. You know how important the foundation is to me. And Charles is just a donor, nothing more."
"Is he?" I challenged, unable to stop myself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're awfully cozy with the distinguished gentleman."
"Jealous, Ethan?" Ava shot back, a dangerous glint in her eye. "That's rich, coming from you. Especially considering how friendly you seemed with Sophia Reyes earlier."
I blinked, surprised she'd noticed. "That was nothing. Business."
Ava laughed humorlessly. "Right. Because mixing business and pleasure has never been your style."
The accusation hung in the air between us, loaded with five years of hurt and misunderstandings. I wanted to grab her, to shake her, to make her understand that there had never been anyone else. That even now, after everything, she was the only woman who could tie me up in knots like this.
Instead, I leaned in close, my lips nearly brushing her ear. "Careful, Ava. Your jealousy is showing."
I felt her sharp intake of breath, saw the way her pupils dilated. For a moment, I thought she might slap me. Or kiss me. I wasn't sure which I wanted more.
"You're insufferable," she hissed, but there was a tremor in her voice that belied her anger.
"And you're beautiful when you're angry," I murmured, unable to stop myself. "Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?"
Ava's eyes widened, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in tone. "Ethan, don't."
"Don't what?" I pressed, emboldened by the flush creeping up her neck. "Don't tell you that every man in this room has been staring at you all night? Don't admit that I've been going crazy trying not to imagine what's under that dress?"
"Stop it," Ava whispered, but she didn't move away. If anything, she swayed slightly closer.
The air between us crackled with tension, five years of pent-up desire threatening to ignite at the slightest spark. I wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us, to claim her lips in a kiss that would leave no doubt about my feelings.
But then Charles returned, two champagne flutes in hand. "Here we are, my dear. Oh, Mr. Blackwood, you're still here. Can I get you a drink as well?"
The spell broken, I stepped back, straightening my tie. "No, thank you. I was just leaving. Ava, I'll see you tomorrow night. Don't be late."
As I turned to walk away, I heard Ava's shaky intake of breath. "Ethan, wait."
I paused, looking back at her over my shoulder. "Yes?"
For a moment, I saw a flicker of the old Ava in her eyes – vulnerable, longing, full of unspoken words. But then her walls slammed back into place.
"Never mind. Goodnight, Ethan."
I nodded curtly, forcing myself to walk away even as every fiber of my being screamed to go back, to finish what we'd started. As I made my way through the crowded ballroom, my mind raced with the implications of our encounter.
The jealousy, the desire, the undeniable pull between us – it was all still there, simmering just beneath the surface. But so was the hurt, the anger, the years of misunderstandings that had driven us apart.
Tomorrow's dinner loomed before me, filled with possibilities both thrilling and terrifying. Could we find a way to move past the pain? To forge a new kind of relationship, not just for Oliver's sake, but for our own?
As I stepped out into the cool New York night, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. One thing was certain – whatever happened tomorrow night would change everything.
For better or for worse, Ava Sinclair still had the power to turn my world upside down. And God help me, I was starting to think I might let her.
- Writer
