26. Gideon
26
Gideon
“ B lackwell’s acquiring the old Hartman warehouses,” Jonas says as soon as we’re in the study, away from the party guests. “They announced it thirty minutes ago.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, accepting the whiskey he pours. “Where are the Hartman warehouses located?”
“Three blocks from our Riverside Corridor project.”
The whiskey burns down my throat, matching the fury building inside me. “And let me guess. They’re planning to turn them into creative hubs for artists and tech startups?”
Jonas nods grimly. “Press release uses almost the exact same language as our internal documents. ‘Authentic industrial conversion attractive to tech startups and design firms.’”
“Son of a bitch.” I set the glass down too hard, liquid sloshing over the rim. “The timing is too perfect. Someone leaked our plans.”
“I’ve already started compiling a list of everyone with access to the Riverside specs. ”
“Good. I want background checks run on everyone. Full surveillance on their communications going back six months.” I pace the length of Jonas’s study, pulse pounding in my temples. “Nobody steals from me. Not again.”
Jonas watches me with concern. “You think it’s someone high up?”
“Has to be. The board only approved Ava’s proposal yesterday.” My fingers flex, wanting to crush something. “This isn’t the work of some random assistant. It’s someone with detailed knowledge and access.”
“I’ll handle it personally,” Jonas assures me.
We discuss security protocols for another fifteen minutes, but my mind keeps circling back to the same dark thought: betrayal from within. Again. Just like with Celeste.
When we return to the party, I scan the room until I locate Ava. She’s talking with Sarah by the windows, her emerald dress catching the light when she laughs. For a moment, watching her movements while she speaks, I forget about Blackwell and his stolen plans. So graceful. Everything about her. So... perfect.
She catches my eyes, and grins. I return the smile with a heavy heart. Sarah abruptly excuses herself, leaving her alone.
“Everything okay?” she asks when I approach, concern evident in those expressive eyes.
“Business. Nothing to worry about tonight.” The lie comes easily. I’m not ready to discuss the leak with her here. “Would you like another dance?”
“No more dancing,” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She lowers her voice, and glances from side to side to make sure no one is close enough to hear, then whispers: “I think the guests have seen enough of our performance for one night.”
Performance. Right. The reminder stings more than it should.
“Then perhaps some air?” I suggest loudly, nodding toward the terrace doors.
She shrugs. “Sure.”
Outside, the spring night is cool enough that I slip my jacket around her shoulders without thinking. She pulls it closer, inhaling slightly, and I wonder if she’s breathing in my scent the way I always do with hers.
“So what did Blackwell do now?” she asks, breaking the silence.
Smart woman. “I’d rather not discuss it tonight.”
“That bad, huh?”
I lean against the stone balustrade, looking out over the small garden below. “I need a distraction.” I pause, gathering courage. “Tell me about the painting in your studio.”
“Which one?”
“The one with me and the fire. The woman consuming me in flames.” I’ve been thinking about it for days, unable to get it out of my mind.
Her shoulders tense slightly. “I destroyed it.”
“You what?” I can’t hide my shock. “Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know.” She looks away. “I wasn’t happy with it.”
“That’s bullshit.” The words come out sharper than intended. “That painting was powerful. Raw.”
Ava crosses her arms, defensive. “It was my painting. My choice.”
“I know.” I soften my tone. “I just thought it was incredible work.”
She seems surprised by the compliment. “Thank you. ”
“It was Celeste, wasn’t it?” I ask, finally addressing what’s been weighing on my mind. “The fire woman in your painting.”
She nods. “How did you know?”
“The way you captured her... destructive, all-consuming.” I take a deep breath. “After what Vanessa said at the gala, I figured you must have put it together.”
“I’ve been wondering about her,” Ava admits. “Can I ask... what happened with Celeste? If I’m stepping too far, that’s fine, too. You don’t have to answer.”
Part of me wants to deflect, to say it’s not important, but that’s not why I brought this up. I want someone to know. I want her to know.
“She was a business partner,” I say finally, the words scraping my throat. “And more.”
“More?”
“We were involved.” I can’t look at her while I say this. “Romantically.”
Ava nods like she already suspected as much. “And what happened?”
“She played me for a fucking fool.” The anger rises fresh, as if it were yesterday and not four years ago. “Gained my trust professionally. Then personally. Set up shell companies, manipulated contracts, diverted funds. By the time I discovered what was happening, she’d stolen seventy million and disappeared.”
Ava’s eyes widen. “Jesus.”
“The money wasn’t even the worst part.” The words are coming faster now, things I’ve never told anyone except my lawyers. “I trusted her. Let her see parts of me no one else had. And the whole time, she was planning, cataloging weaknesses, finding ways to exploit every vulnerability.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It was calculated from the beginning. Everything. Every touch. Every word.” I laugh bitterly. “Every time she said she loved me.”
Ava reaches for my hand, her fingers warm against mine. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“I don’t need pity.”
“It’s not pity. It’s understanding.” She holds my gaze steadily. “I’ve had people who wanted me to fail... because my art meant something to me, and they couldn’t stand that.” She shrugs, but I can see old pain in the gesture. “People who betray you like that, they don’t just take things. They try to take parts of you.”
Something loosens in my chest at her words. She gets it. Not just the financial loss, but the deeper theft.
“After Celeste,” I hear myself saying, “I promised myself I’d never let anyone that close again. Never trust like that.”
She glances nervously over her shoulder, toward the party inside, as if worried someone might hear her next words. Apparently satisfied that no one is within earshot, she leans toward me and whispers: “Is that why you added the no emotional involvement clause?”
I nod, suddenly aware of how much I’ve revealed. Of how she’s drawn out more than anyone has in years.
“Makes sense,” she says, not pushing further. “Thank you for telling me.”
It’s my turn to glance toward the party behind us. Then I whisper back: “You say it like you didn’t want the clause as well...”
She smiles sadly and responds softly: “That’s fair. I did want it. I guess I was angry and I didn’t want to get hurt.”
I nod slowly. “We guard our hearts well, don’t we?”
“Maybe a little too well,” she agrees.
We stand in silence for a moment, gazing down at the street below.
“Why did you paint her that way?” I ask. “Consuming me in fire?”
Ava looks thoughtful. “Because that’s what betrayal does. It burns. It destroys. But the thing is, Gideon, you’re still standing. The fire didn’t consume you completely.”
Her insight stuns me. This woman has seen more in a glimpse than people who’ve known me for years.
“I should get back,” I say abruptly, and just like that my walls slam back into place. The vulnerability feels too raw, too dangerous. I regret sharing as much as I did about Celeste, but what’s done is done. “Jonas probably needs help with hosting duties.”
Disappointment flickers across her face, but she nods. “Of course.”
As I turn to leave, she calls my name softly. I pause.
“For what it’s worth,” she says quietly, “I think Celeste was an idiot. Not for the con, but for not realizing what she had in you was worth more than any amount of money.”
Her words follow me back into the party, echoing in my mind. Dangerous words. Words that make me want things I’ve forbidden myself to want.
I spend the rest of the evening playing the part of the devoted husband while keeping careful distance. Business conversations. Drinks with Jonas’s colleagues. Anything to avoid being alone with Ava again.
Because for a few minutes on that terrace, I forgot our arrangement was just business. Forgot about the contract. Forgot every promise I made to myself after Celeste.
And that scares the shit out of me more than any corporate espionage or hostile takeover ever could.