The First Fight
1236 Words
Breakfast at the Cole Mansion was silent.
Ava sat alone at a table big enough for 20 people. Mrs. Clarke set down eggs, toast, coffee.
“You’re not eating,” Mrs. Clarke said.
“I’m not hungry,” Ava replied.
Truth: She hated eating alone in a mansion that wasn’t hers.
At 9 AM, Damien came down. Suit. No tie. Phone in hand. He didn’t look at her.
“Mr. Cole,” Mrs. Clarke started. “Will Ms. Mensah be—”
“Ms. Mensah eats in the guest wing,” Damien cut in, still on his phone. “This is the family dining room.”
Ava’s fork stopped mid-air.
Family dining room. For a family of 2 who aren’t allowed to talk.
“Got it,” she said, standing. Her chair scraped loud. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your appetite, Mr. Cole.”
He finally looked up. “Sit down.”
Ava froze.
“I said sit. If we’re going to lie to the press for 6 months, you need to learn how to eat across from me without looking like you’re about to throw the plate.”
Ava sat. Slow. Staring him down.
He pushed a plate toward her. “Eat.”
“I’m not a dog, Mr. Cole.”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “Then stop acting like one.”
Silence.
Ava picked up her fork. She ate. He ate. No one spoke.
It was the worst meal of her life.
---
Later that day, Ava was in the library. It was the only room that felt human. Books everywhere.
She was reading when Damien walked in.
“You’re in my space,” he said.
“This is a library,” Ava said without looking up. “It belongs to books.”
“It belongs to me.”
Ava closed her book. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Why are you here?” he asked suddenly.
She turned. “To avoid you.”
Damien’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. More like irritation. “Honest. I’ll give you that.”
“I’m full of surprises,” she said, standing. “Some of them aren’t contract-friendly.”
He stepped closer. “Careful, Ms. Mensah. I wrote the contract.”
“And I signed it,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But I didn’t sell my voice.”
For a second, neither moved. The air was tense. Hot.
Then his phone rang. He broke eye contact first.Board meeting in 20,” he said into the phone. His eyes never left hers.
He ended the call. “This isn’t over, Ms. Mensah.”
“It is for tonight,” Ava said, and her voice didn’t shake. “I’m going to bed.”
Damien watched her walk down the hall. He didn’t call her back.
---
The penthouse was too quiet at 2AM.
Ava couldn’t sleep. The bed was too big. The silence was too loud. She ended up in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing one of the new dresses as a robe.
The fridge was stocked with food she didn’t recognize. Quinoa. Salmon. Sparkling water that cost more than her last grocery run.
She made tea.
“Can’t sleep?”
Ava spun. Damien stood in the doorway. No suit jacket. White shirt open at the collar. He looked less like a CEO and more like a man.
“Not with your house rules echoing in my head,” she said.
He walked to the counter. Poured water. No tea. “The board moved the merger vote up. 4 weeks instead of 6 months.”
Ava froze. “What does that mean for me?”
“It means the Gala is in 4 weeks,” Damien said. “Not 5 months. You need to be flawless by then.”
Ava put her mug down hard. “You changed the timeline without telling me?”
“I changed the timeline because my board is panicking,” he said. “Your job is to fix it.”
“My job?” Ava laughed, but it was bitter. “I’m not a PR crisis, Damien. I’m a person.”
“Careful,” he stepped closer. “I wrote thecontract,” he said. His voice was low. “I set the rules.”
“And I signed it,” Ava said, not backing up. “But I didn’t sign away my name. My voice. My limits.”
For a second, neither moved. The kitchen light buzzed. The air between them was hot. Tense.
Then his phone vibrated on the counter. He looked down first.
“Board,” he muttered, and answered. “Yes.”
Ava used the second to breathe. Her chest was tight.
Damien hung up. “Merger vote moved up. 4 weeks. The Gala is the deadline now.”
Ava’s mug hit the counter. “You’re telling me now? At 2AM?”
“I’m telling you because you need to be ready,” Damien said. “No more fights about timelines. We train. We practice. We sell this.”
“My mum is in that hospital,” Ava said. “You’re using Ridge for optics.”
“I’m using what’s true,” Damien said. “You do care. So show it.”
Ava shook her head. “I’m not a prop, Damien.”
“Then stop acting like one,” Damien said. “Show up. Do the work. Be convincing. That’s the job.”
Ava crossed her arms. “I’m not a prop you can move around, Damien. I have a mum. I have limits.”
“I know,” he said, and for a second his voice wasn’t ice. “Which is why you’re here. So don’t waste it fighting me.”
Ava stared at him. The kitchen was quiet. Just the fridge humming.
“Fine,” she said finally. “7AM. Training. But I’m not your puppet.”
Damien nodded. “7AM.”
He turned and walked to the master suite. The door closed soft behind him.
Ava stayed in the kitchen. The fridge kept humming. Her tea was cold now.
She pressed her palms to the counter. “It’s only business,” she whispered. “Only business.”
But her chest felt tight.
---
7AM came like a sentence.
Elise was already in her room with hangers and orders. “Posture. Walk. Smile. Again.”
A media coach made her say Damien’s name until it didn’t sound foreign. “Like you’re in love.”
“Damien,” Ava said.
“Louder. Softer. Like it hurts.”
“Damien,” she whispered. “I’m in love with you.”
The coach nodded. “Again. Like you mean it.”
“Damien,” Ava said. “I’m in love with you.”
Her voice didn’t shake this time.
---
By 8PM she was in a red silk dress at Ridge Hospital’s charity gala. Cameras flashed. Damien’s hand rested on her back, warm and steady.
A reporter stepped forward. “Ms. Mensah! How did you two meet?"
Ava's mind went blank. Damien's hand pressed her back.
"Charity gala," she said. "Three weeks ago. I was volunteering."
"And now?"
She looked at him. "I'm in love with him."
The cameras flashed.
In the car home, no one spoke.
In the elevator, Ava said, "I'm not your puppet."
Damien said, "Don't forget what this is."
He closed his door.
Ava leaned against hers and whispered, "It's only business."
---
END OF CHAPTER 3
- Writer
