29. Ava
Chapter 29
Ava
“What was that paperwork Jet had you signing earlier when he dropped you off?” Mum asks as I sit in the kitchen, a bottle of grapefruit juice between my fingers.
I spent the night at his house with him after our sunset limo tour. Maybe there are some perks to him being an asshole who it’s so easy to fight with, because making up sure is fun. I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted from sex. I literally haven’t slept for a single minute. Every time I thought Jet was finally worn out, he’d start kissing me again, and off we went. The final few times I could barely move. I just let him position me beneath him how he wanted as he sank inside me over and over, groaning my name like a mantra.
Maybe I’ll pick another fight with him today.
I giggle, then wince as my pussy aches.
Tomorrow, maybe tomorrow .
“Oh, he said it was for HR. To revoke my pass or something now that I’m not working with him anymore.”
“Didn’t you read it?”
I take a gulp of juice. “No. I can barely see straight this morning.”
“Hmm. Lack of sleep does that to you.” Mum chuckles and finishes making her coffee, then joins me at the table.
“What would you like to do today?” I ask, yawning.
She laughs. “Oh, darling, I think you need to rest.” She takes my hand and squeezes it. “We can have a wonderful day tomorrow. I’m meeting Mitch today, anyway. He wants to talk about some roles he’s got in mind. He sounded excited; said they’ll be huge.”
“That’s amazing.”
We sit together and chat, until I’m yawning so hard the whole of LA is in danger of disappearing down my throat. Mum leaves to meet Mitch, and I drag myself upstairs to bed. I manage to fire off a text to Jet as my head hits the pillow.
Me: How do you do that all night, then find the energy to skip this morning, and still go to work looking like a walking snack?
I giggle, picturing his grumpy face reading it. Maybe it’ll get a small lip curl out of him. I type out another quick text, the screen blurring in front of my tired, stinging eyes.
Me: I don’t want a unicorn. I just want my own Jet.
Then I pass out.
When I wake, the house is dark.
“God,” I mutter, checking my phone. The battery has run out, so I plug it in to charge and go downstairs.
Mum’s in the living area, watching After Hours , a talk show presented by a man called Patrick Howard, who I recognize from billboards around the city.
“Darling, you must have needed that sleep.”
She holds her arms out and I sink into them.
“I must have.”
The two of us sit in silence, watching as a pretty young actress is introduced and Patrick interviews her.
Mum jabs the remote and the screen goes black.
“That’s enough of that,” she mutters, tossing it down onto the cushion beside her.
I rub the arm she has draped around me. “Is that the actress they gave the role to the other day?”
“So young and pretty.” She sighs. “I’ll never be able to compete.”
“You don’t need to. You don’t want those roles if they can’t see how amazing you are. You need big roles in hard-hitting stories. Ones people will talk about for years. Inspiring ones. Not just your regular movie that’ll be forgotten about when another ten exactly the same are churned out within a few months.”
“Thank you, darling.” She rests her head against the back of the sofa and gives me a weak smile. “You’re so like your father.” She tucks a lock of my hair back over my shoulder. “He’d be so proud of you.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“Do you want to order takeout and eat ice-cream in our pajamas?” Mum’s eyes light up like she’s just suggested egging the sports car of every casting director who’s ever turned her down.
“I do want that, Mum. I really do.”
I adjust the waistband of my jeans before the elevator dings. Then I walk out into the reception area of the skyrise’s top floor.
The pearl strands feel cool against my skin. I can’t wait to see Jet’s pissed off face when I tell him I’m wearing the bodysuit he bought. It will be a tease. One I’ll pay the price for later.
My pussy clenches at the thought.
“Good morning.” I smile at the immaculate receptionist sitting behind the long shiny desk that’s shaped like a wing and has Atlantic Airways’ logo on it. “I’m Ava Roberts, here to see Mr. Grant. ”
“Mr. Grant doesn’t take visitors without an appointment.”
“Can you tell him Ava Roberts is here, please?”
“Does he know you?” She makes no effort to move.
“He should. I’m his girlfriend.”
I bet he keeps his personal life completely separate from work. I’m not his girlfriend—I’m not sure what I’d label our relationship as—but this woman is starting to get on my last nerve, the way she’s looking down her nose at me like I’m dirt.
“Girlfriend?” Her unimpressed gaze sweeps over my jeans and T-shirt. “Really?”
I rest my elbows on the desk, leaning forward.
“His bratty sugar baby. If we’re going to be technical.”
I hide my smirk at the way she gasps and grabs her desk phone. She taps the buttons, eyeing me with a terse frown. Then she holds up a finger, silencing me, and spins her chair so her back is to me.
I roll my eyes and pull my ringing phone from my purse. I don’t recognize the number calling.
“Hello?”
“Ava. It’s so lovely to speak to you again. Is now a good time?”
I struggle to place her voice, but then it comes to me.
“Ophelia?” I smile as I step away from the desk. Jet’s catty receptionist looks over her shoulder at me, then turns away again and carries on talking .
“How was the rest of your trip?” I walk over to a water cooler in the waiting area and pull out a paper cup.
“It was great. Back to work now, though. And I’m glad. Because talking to you is exciting!”
“Oh, thank you… You too.” I sip the water. Ophelia seemed lovely in Thailand, but I never expected her to call; we didn’t exchange numbers.
“I’ll be honest, Ava. I knew who you were the minute you told me your name. You never mentioned anything, though, so I didn’t think it right to bring it up.”
The cup of water slips from my grasp, spilling all over the carpet.
Like fresh blood on a cockpit floor.
“You knew who I was?” I grab the cup with a shaking hand, depositing it in the trash can.
“I did. And I was surprised at what landed on my desk yesterday. I’m so glad you want to do this. It will be incredible.”
“Sorry? What will be—?”
“I’ve got a screenwriter working on the script already. There are some tweaks we’ll need to make, but nothing major. And we’ll go through them together.”
The water sloshes around in my stomach, threatening to race back up my windpipe.
“Script?” I cough, trying to clear the lump from my throat as my head grows light.
“I’m so pleased you’re choosing to move forward. I know it’s been years. ”
“I’m sorry. What do—?”
“Jet’s so proud of you for moving forward, not staying still. Sorry if that’s a strange thing to say, but the way he sounded on the phone when he and James were talking about the movie was really very—”
“Movie?”
“I know there was a suggestion of a cable series in your proposal. But my gut says movie. Your story made headlines for weeks, Ava. People will be racing to the box office to see it on screen. I’ve got some ideas for castings. Can you come by my office? I’ll send a car for you.”
“I-I’m actually about to see Jet right now.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll email them to you, and then we can meet to discuss when you get back from New York. Will you be coming back at the same time as Jet?”
Something cold and unpleasant binds its way around my lungs until taking a breath feels like razor blades scraping through my lungs.
“New York?”
“Ava, I’m so sorry, I have to go,” Ophelia says as someone calls her name in the background. “I’ll call you and we’ll set up lunch the minute you get back. Maybe Jet and James can join us since they’ll be working together now. It’ll be less tense than dinner in Thailand when they couldn’t stop butting heads.” She laughs. “Speak soon.”
The fast pulsing of my heart fills my ears as I stare at the dark, wet mark on the carpet.
My phone buzzes in my hand .
I click into the email, the name Ophelia Callaghan, Producer , in the sender’s section, followed by the subject line.
The blood drains from my face, all of it crashing to my feet at once.
Forest Girl – A screenplay based on true events: Casting Ideas.
I choke on my own spit, as the cells in my body feel like they’re all exploding.
“Mr. Grant isn’t here,” a condescending voice says from behind the sleek desk. “I’m surprised being his bratty sugar baby , you don’t already know that.”
I look up into her narrowed eyes. Maybe he’s screwed her, and that’s why she looks like she’s about to call security to throw me out onto the street. Or maybe she’s just a bitch. Either way, I’m not about to take her shit for a minute longer.
“I need to speak to him.” I stomp toward the desk as my rage threatens to either explode into a wrath to rival the Big Bang, or dissolve into a nauseous puddle.
Either is possible.
“That’s not—”
“I don’t give a shit if he’s in a meeting with the fucking president right now,” I snap, pulling his number up on my phone and hitting call.
It goes straight to voicemail. “Bastard,” I hiss, throwing my phone into my purse .
The receptionist tips her head, an amused glint in her eyes. “Like I said, you’ll need an appointment to talk with Mr. Grant.”
“Mr. Grant had me sign some documents a couple of days ago. I want to see them,” I demand. “I’m not leaving until I do.”
Some people exiting the elevator look over at my raised voice. The receptionist huffs and picks up the phone.
“Mr. Marks? There’s a woman here making a scene. She says she knows Mr. Grant. She says she wants to see some papers he asked her to sign. I can call security?”
She looks at me from beneath her brows, nodding at whatever he says. “Name?”
“Ava Roberts,” I repeat what I’ve already told her twice.
“Ava—” She snaps her mouth shut, listening, “…Yes, Mr. Marks.” She places the phone down. “He’s finishing up in his office, then he’ll see you. Take a seat.”
“Who’s Mr. Marks?”
“Atlantic Airways’ CFO.”
“Thanks for your help .” I give her a tight smile, then stride straight past the desk.
“You can’t go back there!” She flies to her feet, but I’m already breaking into a jog down the hallway, rushing past curious faces as I read the signs on the doors.
I turn a corner, my heart clenching painfully as I rush past a giant office with the name Jet Grant, CEO on the door. I don’t have time to take in the opulent office behind the glass as I run past. I bet it’s full of arrogant wanky trophies and flashy art.
Fake bullshit. All fake.
Just like him.
The door ahead of me has a shiny name plaque with Hayden Marks on it. I burst through it, causing the man inside the room to rise to his feet behind the meeting table, his eyes widening in surprise.
“You must be Ava.” He breaks into a grin, two rows of perfect white teeth flashing. “I’m Hayden.” He advances, holding out his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I snap without shaking it. “Where is he?”
His brows rise. “Jet? He’s in New York.”
“I’m here, Ava.” A familiar, deep voice cuts in, coming from the laptop on the table.
I stalk over to it.
“What the actual fuck? You’re really in New York?” I cry, recognizing The Songbird hotel’s décor behind him.
He runs a hand over his jaw. “I’m here for a meeting.” His voice is devoid of emotion, his usually bright eyes dim.
“With James Callaghan?” I choke out.
“It was last minute. I called you before I left.”
“My phone died.” I stare at him, searching his face for innocence. For shock, for disbelief. For something that tells me he didn’t do this to me.
He has the perfect poker face.
“I always win, Ava. ”
Well played, Asshole. Well fucking played.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” His dark brows flatten as he studies me.
“You bastard,” I whisper. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I did what I needed to, Ava,” he rasps, his brows furrowing. “Tell me you understand that.”
My legs buckle, and I grab onto the table, curling my hands around the smooth edges as he holds my eyes.
“Understand? How could you?”
He straightens his tie, his neck flexing. “I can see you’re upset. We’ll discuss it when I get back.”
“We’ll talk about it now!” I shriek. “That wasn’t yours to give. This is a new low, even for you.”
His gaze hardens as his nostrils flare. “Ava,” he growls.
“Don’t Ava me,” I spit, slamming my palm onto the table and making the laptop shake. “Did you just fuck me to get close to me?”
He clears his throat. “Excuse me, please, everyone. We’ll reconvene this meeting later.”
I glance up at Hayden, who’s watching in silence. Behind him, on the wall, is a giant TV screen filled with little windows. In each one, a face, listening raptly. I glimpse James Callaghan looking puzzled, and Magnus’s shocked expression before the entire screen goes black.
“Ava.” Jet’s voice cuts through the deafening pounding in my head. “What—?”
“Tell me! Tell me what you did. ”
His punishing stare makes my blood turn to ice.
“I did what was needed to save the airline. Callaghan wasn’t backing down; we were running out of time. People rely on me for their jobs, Ava. For their—”
“Fuck you!”
He glares at me. “It’s the only thing he wanted. His wife—”
“Fuck you so fucking hard!” I scream, tears pricking at my burning eyes. I refuse to let them fall. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of seeing what he’s done to me.
How much he’s stolen from me.
“Do you have any idea what a bastard you are?”
He takes a deep breath. His eyes have never left mine.
“I know what I am.”
The deep husk of his voice confirming it makes a sob catch in my throat.
“I never thought you’d do this.”
“Ava, I had no other options.” He sighs.
He looks exhausted. He sounds exhausted.
“You always have options,” I say, managing to keep my voice level. “You chose this. You fucking chose to do this. This isn’t some bargaining tool you get to use for yourself. This is my life! What the hell did you make me sign?”
“Ava.”
The way he says my name, his voice softening, is too much.
“Shut up,” I snap .
We stare at each other as my heart breaks. His blue eyes search mine like he never expected me to be so upset. Like he never thought about the magnitude of what he was doing.
He told me so many times he was an asshole, and that I’d realize it one day. I never listened.
Today is that day.
“I’ll never forgive you,” I whisper. “I hope you’re proud of the man you’ve become. Because no one else will be.” I slam the laptop lid down.
“Did you know he was going to do this?” My shoulders are heaving with uneven breaths as I lift my eyes to meet Hayden’s. He looks stricken.
He swallows thickly, then nods once. “It’s haunted him for months knowing it was a possibility.”
“Months?” Ice slides up my spine, pinning me in place.
He’s been planning this the whole time.
“He’s not a bad guy, Ava.” Hayden looks like he’s about to throw up. If he wasn’t an accomplice to this, I might feel sorry for him. “He’s saved thousands of jobs. He searched for another way. There wasn’t one. He… He’s told me about you. He cares about…”
“He only cares about himself. He had no right,” I whisper.
I walk past him toward the door. I need to get out of here. I need fresh air. I need water.
“Talk to him. I’ll get you on a flight. You can be there by tonight. ”
I spin, ready to tell Hayden where to shove his suggestion. But then the pain in my chest drops lower, twisting inside my gut instead. And it’s joined by a burning heat, like acid.
Rage.
“Will you tell him I’m coming?”
Hayden’s brows lift, before relief washes over his face. “You’ll go and speak to him?”
“If you don’t tell him I’m coming.”
He nods reluctantly.
“What time’s my flight?”