She steps closer, close enough that her perfume drifts over me—peaches and something sweet. Close enough that the memory of her legs wrapped around me slams back into my body like a freight train.
“Think about Aria,” she whispers. “She deserves stability. She deserves everything you’re fighting for.”
God. She knows exactly where to hit me.
I exhale. “I will think about it.”
She smiles, but it’s small, fragile at the edges. “Good.”
I move toward my truck, then pause and look back one more time. She’s still watching and glowing. Still trouble. But the right kind of trouble.
I get in the truck, start the engine, and as I pull away, only one thought sticks with me: I’m in more danger from Ella Morgan than I ever was from a courtroom.
And I’m not sure I want to be safe.
5
ELLA
I hate how much I’m checking my phone. It’s pathetic, honestly. Every few minutes, I swipe it awake like maybe the screen will magically light up with his name, even though I know it won’t. Not when it’s already been eight days of nothing. Eight days since we sat across from him, pitched the development project, and he said he’d “think about it.”
Eight days of him apparently thinking so hard that he can’t return a single call.
My thumb hovers over his contact again. Cole Dawson. Even his name looks stubborn on my screen.
I toss the phone onto the couch beside me and sink back into the cushions, exhaling hard. I’m trying not to feel… ignored. That’s the irritating part. If this were any other contractor in the county, I wouldn’t care. I wouldn’t even notice. But Cole isn’t just any contractor; he’s him, with his maddening jaw, quiet intensity, and the way he looked at me during that meeting like he was trying very hard not to look at me.
So yes. I mind the silence—more than I should.
I’ve replayed every second of that afternoon, every word, every shift in his expression, trying to decode whether we pushed him too hard, whether he actually hates the idea, whether he regrets even listening to us. Or if maybe… maybe it’s something else. Something personal I’m not supposed to admit I care about.
My phone buzzes. My heart leaps—ridiculous, embarrassing—and crashes when I see the screen.
Ava. Not Cole.
I don’t open it. I just stare at the phone like it betrayed me.
I keep telling myself he’s busy. He has a company to run, a life, and responsibilities. People like Cole don’t sit around waiting to reply. He thinks before he acts. He weighs things. He does the careful, sensible, frustrating grown-up thing.
But still… he could’ve said something. Anything.
A single call. A text. Even a “Working on it” would’ve been enough. But this silence? This avoidance?
It’s making my chest tighten with an emotion that feels too close to disappointment. I tap my fingers against the armrest, restless, irritated at myself for caring this much.
I shouldn’t. But I do. And that’s the problem.
By the time I walk into the ranch house for lunch, I’ve already given myself a whole lecture about not letting Cole’s silence get to me. It’s pointless. It’s unprofessional. It’s… not attractive.
Everyone is already seated, so I slide into my seat, trying to act normal and not look like a woman whose entire morning has been held hostage by a man who won’t pick up her calls.
“Alright,” Jace says, clearing his throat dramatically. “Before we eat, I have an announcement to make.”
“What is it, son?” Dad asks.
Jace nods, expression serious. “I did a little digging on our friend, Cole Dawson. And found out why he hasn’t reached out yet.”
My heart stutters. Please. No. Not now. Not in front of everyone.
