“Such as?” she asks, her pretty eyes watching mine carefully. Despite the episode she’d just had, despite the fear I’d heard in her voice when she called, there’s no wobble now. This is a strong woman. This is a woman determined to survive.
“Repeat the things you know are true, and before your mind runs away with scenarios, you stop the attack in its tracks. It takes practice, but it’s possible. Healing is a long journey, and sometimes, you take two steps back when you take one step forward, but it’s worth it to try.”
I finish cleaning the mascara off her face and toss the napkin in the trash before washing my hands in the sink. She watches me the entire time, her gaze cutting right through me. I can’t tell if I like it or not. It feels like she’s dissecting me, and I can’t stand to be perceived. Being a mystery is easier.
“You know,” she whispers, “I didn’t realize billionaires could be so. . . human.”
I pause because her words are so. . . surprised. I meet her eyes in the mirror. In this moment, I could crack a joke. I could remind her that this is just business, that I’m just trying to entertain myself. I could lie through my teeth, lie to myself, say that I don’t find Ava interesting, that I don’t find her intriguing. I was right. We’ve long passed the time for professionalism. We passed that when she asked me to help her get revenge on her husband, but that doesn’t mean I should go sprinting even further in the wrong direction.
I’ve never been great at refusing things I want. And right now, I really fucking want Ava. I shouldn’t. I’m no less ruthless than the man she is running from. But she doesn’t know that. And despite her splotchy face and disheveled clothes, she’s still beautiful, even in this fluorescent lighting. What the hell is wrong with me that I want to be the reason her face is splotchy? Why is it I want to change her perception of pain?
“We all bleed red,” I finally answer, before drying my hands and looking away from her tantalizing eyes. Before I do something she’ll regret.
Seventeen
Ava
It’s only when Dagen ushers me through the restaurant and toward the front doors that I realize the profoundness of him being here. He’d said he was sending someone to get me. Instead, he’s here personally, his little black expensive car sitting at the curb. A cop hovers nearby, clearly considering giving him a parking ticket, but the moment we appear, he straightens and tips his hat to Dagen. Julia, Marie, and Kevin follow along with us, their eyes worried, but also curious. They hadn’t been able to reach me during my panic attack, but here Dagen Fox is, leading a now coherent me outside. They’ll have questions. I won’t be able to answer them.
“Nice car,” Kevin says as he takes in the little black car. “Aston Martin?”
Dagen nods. “It is.” He glances at the three of them. “I’ll take care of Ava from here. I apologize I don’t have enough room to take all of you back to work?—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Julia says, her eyes bright as she takes in Dagen Fox appreciatively. “Just you thinking about us is enough.”
“Besides, it’s not a far walk,” Kevin adds. “We’ll be okay as long as Ava will be.”
I nod gently. “I’m okay now. Sorry, you guys.”
“Don’t apologize,” Marie argues. “We’ve all got a past.”
Julia nods. “I had an ex kidnap me once. True story.”
Maria and Kevin look over at Julia in alarm. “What?” they both say, their eyes wide.
She waves away their question. “Just make sure to take care of our girl. She’s important to us,” she tells Dagen.
“Rest assured, she’ll be completely taken care of,” he responds as he opens the passenger door and helps me drop down into the sports car. I meet Julia’s eyes as Dagen closes the door and she wiggles her eyebrows at me as he tells them goodbye and moves around to the driver’s side before climbing in.
He drops the car in gear without saying a word and eases away from the curb.
“Thank you,” I rasp softly, glancing over at him. “For this.”
He hums under his breath. “There’s no need to thank me.”
“There is though.” I blow out a puff of air. “You must have been busy. I’m sorry I interrupted your day.”
He glances over at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone with as much influence and money as he has drive his own car. He could easily have a driver who does this, but instead, he clearly prefers to drive. He looks completely in control as he shifts between gears, as he drives through the busy streets. I can tell that if we were going faster, he’d be just as in control as he is right now.
My eyes flick out the window when I realize we’ve passed up my building. “Hey, where are we going?” I ask. “I thought you were taking me back to work?”
“I’ve already discussed it with your boss?—”
“You need to stop doing that,” I growl, cutting him off. “You don’t own or control me. I’d appreciate you asking me first before making a decision that could affect my career.”
He blinks in surprise and looks over at me, taking in the annoyance on my face. Whatever he sees there, his hand tightens on the steering wheel. “You’re right,” he finally says. “I won’t do it again without your permission. I’ve been in this position so long, I just act. I should have considered your feelings on the matter.”
I study his profile. He does seem genuinely sorry, and that’s the reason I nod and look back out the windshield.
