43. Ford
CHAPTER 43
FORD
Call me Richard Gere, because I’ve just transformed Ava like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. The silvery silk fabric of her gown drapes and clings in all the right places, the plunging neckline an inch from being indecent. My first instinct is to throw her against the nearest surface and rip the damn thing off, but I guess that’s sorta the point of dressing her up like this. Every bastard at the charity gala is gonna be drooling over Ava baby, and tonight, she’s all mine.
I stand back and swipe a hand over my chin as I assess her, pretending I’m still undecided about the dress even though it’s fucking perfect .
Ava chews her lip as she stares back at me, seeming nervous to hear the verdict. She’s swept her long hair into an updo, her slender neck exposed and a few loose strands curling in around her face. She’s wearing the Doll collar, like always, and I can’t help but consider how my tattooed hand would make an even better one with this outfit. My fingers twitch with the urge to wrap around the column of her throat, apply pressure, control her breathing…
“So?” she prompts, growing impatient under my continued scrutiny.
“You look expensive,” I declare.
She glances down at herself, then back up at me, like she doesn’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing. Pretty fucking cute that she still can’t tell.
“Well, you should know. You paid for the dress,” she mumbles, smoothing the fabric and adjusting the way it drapes off her left hip, the slit cut criminally high to expose an obscene amount of leg when she walks.
“I wasn’t talking about the dress,” I say, winking.
Ava folds her arms over her chest, leveling me with a glare. “Do you want me to go with you to this thing or not?” she huffs.
I snort a laugh. “Cute that you think you have a choice, Doll.”
Her big brown eyes narrow in defiance. I love when she gets all indignant and offended– the sassy little attitude she puts on gets my dick hard. Ava opens her mouth like she’s ready to lob back some biting retort, but I push away from the wall and step toward her in my black-on-black tux, offering her my arm like a perfect gentleman.
“Shall we?” I ask smoothly, catching her off guard with the gesture.
She blinks like doesn’t know what to do at first, but then she rolls her eyes and takes my arm, allowing me to lead her out of her bedroom and down the hallway.
Wes and Raf are posted up on the sofa in the living room playing video games, but the click of Ava’s heels against the floor draws their attention. The two of them simultaneously turn to look as we emerge from the hall, eye-fucking the shit out of our pretty little Doll.
“Damn,” Wes growls, eager gray eyes raking over her form appreciatively. He flickers a glance my way, and there’s no mistaking the jealousy lurking behind his eyes.
Raf just looks pissed, silently stewing as he takes in how hot our girl looks, jaw set like stone.
“You sure you wanna spend the whole night at some stuffy gala?” Wes asks Ava, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
“Didn’t think I had a choice,” she scoffs. A smirk teases her ruby-painted lips as she glances up at me, batting her long lashes. “Besides, I’m already dressed.”
“Yeah, Wes, fuck off,” I growl, holding eye contact with Ava as I toss an arm over her shoulders and drag her in closer. “You ready to go, babe?”
“Mhmm,” she hums.
Placing a hand on the small of her back, I start steering her toward the door, calling back to my friends over my shoulder. “Don’t wait up!”
We make our way down to the ground floor of Sutton Hall, Ava holding tight to my arm to keep her balance on her heels. Rather than exiting through the back, like usual, we pass through the building to the front doors, stepping out to find a black town car waiting at the curb, engine idling.
Approaching the back door, I pull it open and motion for her to get in.
“After you, Doll,” I say, tipping my head.
Ava rolls her eyes as she brushes past me, ducking into the car and scooching across the seat. I slide in after her, glancing up at the driver as I close the door. He’s already got his orders as to where we’re going, so I just give him a nod to indicate we’re ready, then hit the button to roll up the partition.
As soon as the vehicle pulls away from the curb, I drop the whole gentleman act. I’m on Ava in an instant, pulling her across my lap and tucking a hand into the side slit of her gown to wrap around her thigh.
“Ford,” she breathes in surprise.
“Yeah, Ava baby?” I murmur, cruising my hand up higher until my fingers brush against something unexpected. Furrowing my brow, I shove the silk skirt of her dress aside, blinking at the nude compression shorts she’s wearing underneath. “What the fuck is this?” I growl.
She blushes instantly, batting my hand away as she tugs her dress down. “It’s just… Spanx,” she mumbles.
“I know what they are,” I say, leveling her with a glare. “Why the fuck are you wearing them?”
“To hold everything in.”
“Nah, fuck that,” I huff, shoving my hand back up under her dress. “Take that bullshit off.”
She squirms, trying to shift away. “No, I need them!”
I clamp a hand down on her thigh to hold her in place, our eyes locking. “You may find this hard to believe, Ava baby, since someone has obviously brainwashed you into thinking you aren’t skinny enough, but some guys actually like a girl with curves.” My fingers tighten, flexing their grip on her leg. “I like having something to hold onto. Your hips, your ass…” I trail off with a groan, biting my lip. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ hide that sexy body of yours.”
Her blush deepens, lips pressing into a tight line.
I can tell she still doesn’t believe me, especially with last night still so fresh in her mind. Letting those bitches mark her up didn’t sit well with me, but Raf was creative in his form of punishment, I’ll give him that. When he really wants to destroy someone, he does it from the inside out.
“ Off ,” I bark, reaching underneath her dress again, and this time, she doesn’t fight me. I slide my hands up her thighs, grabbing the waistband of her Spanx and pulling them down.
“Fine,” she sighs in resignation, tilting her hips to help me get them off, acting like I’m really putting her out by confiscating her shapewear. Women are ridiculous sometimes. That shit can’t be comfortable.
I grin as I strip them from her body, balling the ugly shorts up in one hand and hitting the button to roll the window down with the other. Before she can stop me, I toss the offensive undergarment outside, the cold air ripping it away.
Ava’s eyes go wide with disbelief, lips parting on a gasp. “You did not just do that.”
I chuckle to myself, rolling the window back up. “Damn right I did,” I reply proudly, raking my hungry gaze down her body. “No hiding tonight, pretty girl. I want every asshole at this thing to see exactly what they’ll never have.”
It takes almost two hours to get to our destination. By the time the driver pulls up in front of the swanky ass hotel hosting the gala, I’ve drained both flasks of whiskey I brought along, rolling on a solid buzz. I quickly hop out of the car and offer Ava a hand, giving her another appraising stare as I help her out of the back seat.
The silvery silk hugs her ass, and I fight the urge to drop to a knee and sink my teeth into it like a peach. She’s exactly the kind of distraction I need for an evening like this– every time I look at her, she’s all I can see. My mind goes blank to everything except how fuckable she is in that dress, and I can’t wait to get her out of it later and see how far she’ll let me go.
She takes my arm again and the two of us walk through the front doors of the hotel, stepping into the disgustingly opulent lobby. I swear charities spend more on events like this than they raise– because nothing says helping the less fortunate like chandeliers and caviar, right? The arrogance of the whole display is sickening, which is why I’m sure my father’s completely in his element. Senator Ford walks around like the world owes him applause.
People’s heads turn our way as Ava and I enter the ballroom, already packed with uppity snobs dressed in crisp tuxedos and formal gowns. She’s clutching my arm tighter than she did when we left the dorms, her usual look of wide-eyed innocence tinged with nerves.
I slip an arm around her waist and lean in close. “Relax. You’re the prettiest girl here, Ava baby.”
A blush rises to her cheeks, the sound of her breath hitching going straight to my dick. The bulge in my pants is gonna be obscene if she keeps that up.
Ava’s eyes shift anxiously around the room as I guide her forward, like she’s afraid someone’s going to call her out for not belonging here. That’s not why they’re staring, though, and a few people do more than just look. Some old fuck in a vintage tux stops her to ask if she’s a model, and I bite back a laugh when she gets all flustered and denies it. I consider putting my fist through his face for eye-fucking her the way he does, but lucky for him, I’m on my best behavior tonight.
For now.
Odds are my old man will piss me off at some point and the night will end in disaster. No idea why he keeps forcing me to come to events like this, but I suppose appearances are everything.
“It’s beautiful here,” Ava whispers, barely audible over the chatter of the crowd.
“It’s something,” I grumble, watching the way she takes in everything with awe. It’s the same shit as always– women in designer gowns faking smiles, men in tuxedos shaking hands and pretending they’re above stabbing each other in the back. Crystal chandeliers glittering overhead, champagne flutes clutched in greedy hands. It’s all just a fucking circus, minus the peanuts.
I steer Ava through the crowd toward the bar, her grip on my arm easing as she relaxes into our surroundings. I’m not sure I like that she’s getting comfortable here already, as if she’s content to just slip into this world for the night and become like them . She’s supposed to be above all this pretentious bullshit– or at least I thought she was. Maybe I was wrong.
The only saving grace of events like these is that they’ve always got top-shelf booze. My throat’s parched with a thirst that can only be quenched by whiskey, tension tightening my muscles as we step up to the bar and flag down the server.
“Whiskey neat,” I tell him. “And champagne for my girl.”
He’s quick to pour both, and I toss a hundred-dollar bill into his tip jar to guarantee my glass remains full all night. Ava gives me a nervous smile when I pass her the champagne flute, lips barely touching the rim before I spot my dad carving a path across the room toward us.
“Here we go,” I mutter under my breath, knocking back my drink, the burn of the whiskey down my throat the only thing keeping me grounded.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ava turn toward me, brows drawing together in soft confusion. She opens her mouth to ask, but it’s already too late.
Enter Senator Ford.
He strides through the crowd like he owns the place– which, in some ways, he does. The perfect smile stretched across his face doesn’t reach his eyes. It never has.
“Glad you could make it,” he drawls, smooth and practiced, voice slick as oil. It drips with a kind of charisma that wins votes and snags headlines. To most people, he’s magnetic, but to me? He’s fake as fuck.
“You said be here,” I say with a shrug, letting my empty glass clink on the marble bar top. I tap a finger against the counter to signal the server and he nods, already pouring.
My father sizes me up, lip curling at the way my black-on-black attire does nothing to hide the tattoos crawling up my throat or splashed across the backs of my hands. He hates my ink, my attitude, everything that doesn’t fit his perfect family image.
His eyes shift, landing on Ava.
“And who’s this?” he asks, suddenly all warm smiles and piqued interest.
She gives him a polite smile, clearly caught off guard by his attention, while I slide an arm around her waist and decide to let both of them in on the joke.
“This is Ava,” I reply casually. “Her mom’s a prostitute.”
She stiffens beneath my hold, eyes snapping up to me in shock. Her mouth drops open, cheeks flaming, but Ava’s reaction is nothing compared to my old man’s.
The color drains from his face, then floods red so fast it’s as if someone flipped a switch. Senator Ford looks like he’s ready to blow a gasket, which is the exact reaction I hoped to provoke.
He turns on me, voice tight with fury. “ Christian .”
One word. Controlled. A threat and a warning.
I grin and reach for my fresh glass of whiskey, tipping it toward him in a mock-toast. “What’s the matter?” I ask, feigning innocence. “Doesn’t gel with your image?”
His jaw clenches so tight I swear I hear the grind of his teeth. The weight of what he wants to say– what he can’t say here– is almost enough to make me laugh.
“Let’s take a walk,” he growls, leaning in. His hand shoots out to grab onto my arm, gripping tight enough to hurt if I actually felt pain like normal people.
I don’t even flinch, meeting his eyes with a lazy smile and effortlessly twisting my arm free. Leaning into Ava, I grab for her hand, lacing her fingers with mine and kissing the back of it like I’m the perfect fucking gentleman.
“I’m good right here,” I say, tone sugary and insincere, meant to push him right to the edge without giving him the excuse he needs to shove me off. “Don’t worry, we’ll behave.”
Flashing my dad one last grin, I start pulling Ava toward the dance floor, knowing Senator Ford won’t follow. He wouldn’t risk a scene here, not in front of donors and colleagues and snobbish elites.
Ava still hasn’t said a word. She’s silent as I drag her through the sea of diamonds and tuxedos, fingers twisting tighter in mine. If she initially thought this gala would be a fun night out, she’s probably rethinking everything right about now.
She’ll get over it. None of these people matter– she won’t likely ever see them again, and she’s fucking lucky for it.
She’s mad, though. I can feel her fury vibrating off her, and I’m drinking it in like oxygen. She’s so damn sexy when she’s angry. It gets my dick hard.
I knock back the rest of my whiskey as we pass a table and ditch the empty glass without stopping, glancing at the untouched champagne flute still in Ava’s other hand.
“You might want to finish that,” I remark. “Helps with the nerves.”
She glares back at me, knuckles whitening on the stem.
Yep, definitely mad.
She’s not fighting me, though, because like my dad, she clearly doesn’t want to make a scene. I take full advantage, relieving her of the champagne flute before pulling her out onto the dance floor.
Bodies sway around us as I pivot to face Ava, one hand still locked in hers, the other sliding to the small of her back. She gasps softly when I pull her chest flush against mine, eyes snapping up, lips parting ever so slightly.
I start to move, guiding us through the motions, slow and deliberate. A swirl of soft piano and polite jazz rises around us, but I only hear the whisper of her breath, feel the tension in her spine.
More than one pair of eyes in the room is on us. I can feel them watching, judging, whispering behind manicured hands and polished teeth.
Good.
The whole point of coming here was to be seen, and we’re making them look.
I lean down, my lips brushing just beneath her ear. “Smile, Ava,” I whisper tauntingly. “It’s all part of the show.”
Her body stays stiff against mine for a beat too long, the music swelling. If you can call this shit music . It’s the kind of song played at overpriced weddings and political fundraisers, bland and boring as fuck. I move us around the dance floor with practiced ease, but Ava’s still avoiding my eyes.
“You think that was funny?” she finally grits out, voice low but razor sharp.
I can’t help but smirk, still picturing that rare glimpse we got of the cracks in Senator Ford’s veneer. “It definitely was.”
Her eyes flick up, finally meeting mine, and I see the storm brewing behind them. She’s moved past her shock and embarrassment. Now she’s just pissed.
“You humiliated me,” she whispers sharply.
I roll my eyes. “You’ll survive.”
She blinks back at me, scoffing under her breath. “Do you just… say whatever you want and expect people to be okay with it?”
I tilt my head slightly, pretending to consider. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Her glare darkens. “That’s not okay, Ford. You used me to piss off your father.”
“So?” I scoff.
“I’m not your pawn.”
“Nah,” I chuckle, my grip on her tightening subtly as I spin us slow and tight. “But you make one hell of a weapon, Ava baby.”
Something flickers across her face– confusion, hesitation, maybe even a spark of understanding– but then it’s gone, her brow furrowing again as she shakes her head slowly.
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I agree, eyes locked on hers. “But you already knew that. Unlike everyone else in this room, I don’t hide who I am.” I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear again. “And if you’re so mad at me, then why haven’t you walked away yet?”
I feel her breath catch, my fingers flexing at the small of her back, holding her close. She doesn’t answer, but she also doesn’t make any move to pull away.
My lips spread into a feral grin. “That’s what I thought.”