Beneath the Same Sky

Ava Carter wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the Blackwell mansion. Yet, there she was, balancing a tray of overpriced lattes as she weaved through a sea of black-suited security guards who looked at her like she was a walking stain on their polished floors. The house—or estate, really—towered over her like some gothic villain’s lair, all sharp angles and intimidating glass. Inside, the air was suffocatingly sterile, the type of place where even a fingerprint on the railing would earn you a death glare. Ava hated it already. “Delivery,” she said stiffly, holding up the tray as one of the guards narrowed his eyes at her, then nodded toward the cavernous foyer. She found the conference room easily enough—the shouting was hard to miss. The deep baritone of a man’s voice cut through the walls like a knife. “You’re acting like a spoiled child, Ethan.” “I’m not taking over your empire, Dad.” The second voice, clipped and biting, came from someone younger. Curiosity prickled at Ava, but she wasn’t about to risk getting thrown out by eavesdropping. Keeping her head down, she nudged the door open just enough to squeeze inside. The first thing she noticed was him. Ethan Blackwell, lounging in a leather chair with all the grace of someone who knew exactly how good he looked in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up just so. He had the kind of face that seemed carved out of marble—sharp jawline, straight nose, and eyes as dark as the storm clouds threatening to roll in outside. But it wasn’t his looks that caught her attention; it was the smirk curling at his lips, as if he was daring the older man—his father, obviously—to keep yelling. Richard Blackwell stood at the head of the table, his presence as cold and suffocating as the mansion itself. “You think I worked my entire life to have my legacy thrown away because you want to—what? Waste your life partying and squandering everything I built?” “I’d rather waste my life than become you,” Ethan shot back smoothly, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. Ava took a step forward, placing the tray on the edge of the table as quietly as possible, hoping to go unnoticed. But luck wasn’t on her side. “Who the hell is this?” Ethan’s sharp voice snapped her attention to him. His gaze swept over her, sharp and assessing. “Your coffee,” Ava replied flatly, sliding the cup from the tray onto the table. “Great. Another thing I didn’t ask for.” His smirk widened, more amused than grateful, the sheer arrogance of it making Ava’s blood boil. “Careful,” her tone sweetly venomous. “Wouldn’t want to waste this on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.” Ethan arched a brow, clearly not expecting her bite. “Feisty. How refreshing.” Richard ignored them both, his focus still on his son. “You’re going to that gala tonight, Ethan. No arguments.” Ethan rolled his eyes and turned back to Ava, brushing off his father’s demand. “What’s your name, coffee girl?” She stiffened, her now-empty tray held tightly in her hands. “Ava. And don’t call me coffee girl.” “Okay, Ava,” he said, drawing her name out like a taunt. “Do me a favor and tell my father I’m not going to his ridiculous gala. Oh, and thanks for the coffee. Really hit the spot.” Before Ava could respond, Ethan reached for the cup on the table, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting moment as he picked it up. But his grip faltered, and the cup tilted, sending a stream of scalding liquid onto his lap. Ava’s mouth fell open as Ethan shot to his feet, cursing under his breath. She wasn’t sure who moved first—her or him—but suddenly, they were face to face, so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold in his dark eyes. “You did not just do that,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re the one with the butterfingers,” Ava shot back, refusing to let him intimidate her. “Maybe next time don’t act like the king of the world.” For a second, neither of them moved. Then Ethan laughed, a short, sharp sound that somehow made him even more infuriating. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor, Ava,” he said, taking a step back, his smirk firmly back in place. “Now get out before you ruin anything else.” “Gladly,” Ava snapped, turning on her heel and stalking out of the room. But as the door swung shut behind her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last she’d see of Ethan Blackwell.