The Ultimatum
722 Words
The phone call with Mira did little to steady Ava’s nerves.
She paced the length of Liam’s penthouse, her bare feet silent against the cold marble. The city sprawled beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, indifferent to the storm raging inside her. “He can’t just force you into this,” Mira had insisted. “You have rights.” But Ava knew the truth. Liam Carter didn’t play by the rules. He made them.
She stopped in front of the closed study door, her fingers curling into her palms. She could walk away. Right now. Leave this place, this man, and never look back. But the memory of his words—“That child is mine. And I protect what’s mine.”—echoed in her skull, a warning and a promise.
She knocked.
No answer.
Ava pushed the door open anyway.
Liam stood by the window, his back to her, one hand braced against the glass. The late afternoon light cast his sharp features in gold, highlighting the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t turn, but she knew he’d heard her. The air between them hummed with it.
“You’re still here,” he said, his voice low.
Ava lifted her chin. “I need to talk to you.”
He turned slowly, his gray eyes unreadable. “You’ve decided.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ava swallowed, her pulse hammering. “I have conditions.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “Conditions.”
She stepped forward, her spine straight. “If I’m doing this—if I’m marrying you—it’s on my terms.”
Liam crossed his arms, the movement pulling the fabric of his shirt taut over his chest. “Go on.”
Ava forced her voice to stay steady. “First, this isn’t a real marriage.”
His jaw tightened. “Meaning?”
“Separate rooms. Separate lives.” She met his gaze, unflinching. “I’m not sharing your bed. I’m not playing the doting wife. This is business, Liam. Nothing more.”
Somethinh flickered in his eyes—irritation? Amusement?—but it was gone before she could name it. “You’re carrying my child.”
“And I’m not you property,” she shot back. “Second—I keep my studio. I keep my work. You don’t get to control my art.”
Liam’s gaze dropped to her mouth, lingered. “Your hobby.”
Ava’s fingers curled into fists. “It’s not a hobby.”
“Fine.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Your art. What else?”
She hesitated. This was the part that mattered. The part that could save her. “No secrets. If you’re lying to me, if you’re hiding anything, the deal’s off.”
Liam studied her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Agreed.”
Ava’s chest tightened. It was too easy. He was too easy. “And I want it in writing.”
For the first time, something like amusement touched his features. “You want a contract?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne—bergamot and something darker, like old books and lightning. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
Liam reached into his pocket, pulled put his phone. “I’ll have my lawyer draft it by tonight.”
Ava’s breath hitched. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” He tilted his head, his gaze tracing her face like he was memorizing it. “But you should know something, Ava.”
She didn’t ask. Didn’t want to.
He stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. “Once you sign that paper, you’re mine.” His fingers brushed her wrist, sending a jolt through her. “And I always collect what I’m owed.”
She should’ve been afraid. Should’ve run.
But Ava Monroe didn’t run.
She met his gaze, her voice steady. “We’ll see about that.”
Liam’s smirk was slow, dangerous. “Oh, we will.”
Ava turned on her heel, her pulse roaring in her ears. She made it two steps before his voice stopped her.
“Ava.”
She paused but didn’t turn.
“You’re making the right choice.”
She didn’t answer.
Because the truth was, she didn’t know if she was.
- Writer
