31. Ava
Chapter 31
Ava
One month later
“You’ve been staring at your phone every day, darling. Are you hoping Jet will call?”
I click out of my banking app and look up into Mum’s eyes as she walks into the kitchen. Each one of the million dollars that Jet deposited in my bank account are a painful reminder to his betrayal. It’s a bribe for my silence. And so far, it’s working. I’m too ashamed to admit to anyone what he’s done. How I fell for his lies.
I told Mum we decided we weren’t right together. Which is true. Everything about us was wrong. But I haven’t been able to hide the way it’s dragged me down every day since.
“I hate that I’m still thinking about him,” I say, my voice weaker than the previous thousands of times I’ve said it .
He’s drained me. Even all the trips I’ve taken with Mum since I got back from New York haven’t helped the pain to lessen. And what I managed to turn into rage has eaten away at me just as much. It takes a lot of energy to wake up each day with so much hate in your heart.
“You need to keep busy. How about another trip? We had fun in San Diego last weekend, didn’t we?”
I force a smile. “We did.”
The effort to keep it there is too much, and it drops the minute Mum turns away to check her phone that’s charging on the counter.
“How about San Francisco? We can tour Alcatraz? Ride a cable car?”
“Sure, sounds fun.”
Guilt coils itself inside my chest. I’m getting exactly what I’ve always wanted. To be here with Mum. Seeing new places, exploring, just being mother and daughter again. She’s taken so much time off work to keep me company and tried her best to distract me whenever we’ve seen an Atlantic Airways billboard when we’re driving around the city.
“Great. I’ll book something,” she says, reading something on her phone.
“Okay.” I inject a cheeriness into my voice. Maybe if I fake it, it’ll start to feel real.
I’ve smiled in all of the photos we’ve taken on our trips. To anyone who didn’t know, I’d look happy. Like I’m living my best life. I even convinced Gramps that I am. The happiness in his voice when I told him what a great time I’m having made me cry silently down the phone as he told me he loved me and hung up. Liv knows me better. She knows there’s more to Jet’s disappearance. She asked me if I found him with someone else. Because that’s the worst thing she can think of him doing to me.
“Have you thought any more about the suggestions Ophelia had?” Mum asks, unplugging her phone and turning to me.
“Yeah, I like the British actress, Cora. I think I’d like the part to go to someone new who isn’t well-known.”
Mum nods. “Good. I liked her too. And she’s a natural redhead. She looks a little like you did at that age.”
I lift my bottle of grapefruit juice and take a sip. No one cares if I leave lipstick around the rim.
“It’ll be good to get things moving. You don’t want Ophelia to change her mind. She must get a pile of screenplays on her desk every day. You need to act quickly in this business, darling.”
“I know. I’m ready to move forward with it now. I just needed a bit more time to get settled here, that’s all.” I lie so smoothly I almost believe myself.
Mum walks over and pulls me into a hug.
“I’m so proud of you. My daughter, the screenwriter,” she hums happily as she holds me.
“Thanks, Mum.”
She pulls back, her eyes glittering. “This is exciting. We’ll be walking down that red carpet at your premiere, cameras going off everywhere, people calling our names.” She pulls a dramatic pouty face, pretending to pose, which makes me smile a little.
“I need to work up to the idea of that not making me want to hurl.”
“Nonsense. It’s so fun, you’ll love it. You can start practicing tonight.”
“Tonight?”
She walks to her purse and pulls out a bow-wrapped card, presenting it to me with a beaming smile. “Open it.”
The familiar caramel-colored bow slides through my fingers, making my skin tingle.
“Is this?”
Mum bites her lower lip, her eyes bright as I pull the ribbon and open up the card.
“No way.” I look up at her, a jolt of excitement appearing from the depths of my stomach. The feeling is so alien, I almost don’t recognize it. “You’re going to this?”
“We both are.” She taps the invitation to the couture lingerie house’s new season runway show. “Girls’ night out.”
“This is… Wow,” I breathe, soaking up the atmosphere.
We’re sitting in the second row near the end of the raised runway, surrounded by a whole bunch of people who look like they invented the word glamor. I smooth my hands over my emerald green, silk dress. It’s got a high neckline, but there are cut-out sections along the torso, showing a glimpse of flesh. Mum and I spent the day shopping for new outfits and getting our hair styled. It’s the most fun I’ve had in weeks, a real mother-daughter day.
I’m finally starting to feel like me again.
“That one’s amazing,” I whisper, as a dark-haired model struts down in a black thong and matching bustier adorned with crystals.
Mum takes my hand, a bright smile on her face as we sit together and watch each model showcasing stunning piece after stunning piece.
“That one’s like the first set you sent me,” I gasp as the face of the brand, a stunning model called Sinclair steps onto the runway. A hum of energy ripples through the room as she walks the runway in sky-high heels that make her legs look amazing. She reaches the end and turns, her blonde hair shining beneath the lights like ice before she struts back up again.
I smile as my gaze wanders, letting it track along the front row on the opposite side of the runway. There are two actresses I recognize, a male fashion designer, countless stylish women, and—
Fuck no.
Cool blue eyes burn into mine, making goosebumps scatter up my spine. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. Not like I imagine I do—eyes wide, heart pounding, face on fire. He’s sitting there with the calm arrogance he’s known for. Like he’s been watching me for a while.
“Shit,” I mutter too quietly for Mum to hear above the music.
The familiar rage swirls in my gut as Jet stares at me. He’s cut his hair, it’s a little shorter on top, and he looks broader in his deep blue suit, his white shirt fitting snug over his chest, like he’s been working out more.
He’s probably skipping nine hundred times in a row now.
Bastard , I mouth, more to myself than anyone. But the way his eyes narrow and darken tells me he saw it.
I look away, forcing myself to concentrate on the show. But now that I’ve seen him, all I can see in my peripheral are intense blue eyes watching me. I straighten in my seat, lifting my chin, trying my best to look unaffected but my heart is hammering against my ribs, my blood heating at the relentless attention he’s got fixed on me. I look back, checking the seats either side of him. Both are occupied by women talking to the people beside them. Neither appear to be with him, which means he’s here on his own. But why would he come to a lingerie show alone?
“You have that one,” Mum exclaims, drawing my attention back to the model on stage.
The nude lace bodysuit fits her perfectly. The pearl strands draping over her hips accentuate them in a way that’s so sexy, everyone’s eyes are on her. I look at her face, and my throat goes dry.
Francesca Callaghan.
She looked beautiful when I saw her in New York. But seeing her now… she’s a literal goddess.
The back of my neck flares with heat as bile rises up my windpipe. I look at Jet, but his eyes are on Francesca, his usual scowl even deeper as he watches her do a spin.
“I feel sick,” I mumble.
Mum squeezes my hand. “Let’s go to the restroom. You look pale.”
“I’m fine. You stay. I just need a minute.”
I reassure her again, then apologize to the people in our row as I make my exit.
I push through the door at the rear of the room and march out into the cool corridor. The pearls that felt smooth against my skin now feel like barbed wire, each one tearing at my skin. What the hell was I thinking? I was so determined not to let Jet ruin the things for me that I love. Not to let him take anything else from me, that I’ve still been wearing the bodysuit he sent me.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” I hiss as I storm along, searching for a restroom where I can go and rip the stupid thing off. I don’t even care that I’m about to throw a thousand dollars of silk and pearls into the trash. I’d pay ten times that amount to get the thing off me.
Maybe this is what he does. Sends all the women he fucks the same design, getting some weird perverse pleasure from knowing we all wear it for him.
“Asshole.” I seethe as I rush around a corner. “Where are the fucking restrooms?” I yell in frustration as another deserted corridor greets me.
“You walked past them.”
I spin so fast my brain rattles in my skull.
Jet’s standing a few feet behind me, watching me with a grimace.
“I told you not to even look at me if we were in the same place again. What part of that didn’t you understand?” I spit.
“I never agreed to that,” he rasps, his deep voice bringing a flurry of memories with it. His eyes darken until he’s glowering at me so hard it makes me swallow with unease.
“You always do what you want, don’t you, Jet?”
“I do what I have to, Ava. ”
His eyes travel down my body, making me shiver. And I hate him even more for it. It might have been a month, but the betrayal is still there, burning bright.
“You expect me not to look at you when you wear that?”
I smooth my hands over the green fabric. “It’s a dress, asshole. Never seen one before?”
His nostrils flare, his eyes holding mine as my hand skims over my hip, brushing over my bare skin… over smooth, round pearls.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
His eyes darken as his gaze tracks back to where my dress is cut just that tiny bit low enough to see the delicate pearl strand against my hip.
“I’m on my way to tear the damn thing off and throw it in the trash.”
His throat contracts as he lifts his eyes to mine. “You like it. Forget I sent it to you. Don’t be a brat, Ava.”
I choke out a muffled gasp.
“A brat?”
His jaw clenches as I storm closer, pointing my finger in his face.
“Excuse me if I don’t want to wear the same thing that you buy every woman you fuck.”
“I—”
“Shut up!”
He closes his sinfully perfect lips, his eyes narrowing .
“Don’t tell me you being here is a coincidence. That Francesca Callaghan modeling today isn’t the reason you’re here.”
“You don’t like that I’m here with Fran?”
My stomach drops. Fran. So fucking cozy.
“What I don’t like is being played.” I grab the pearl strand and curl my fingers around it.
“Ava, stop,” Jet growls, placing his hand over mine.
His skin burns against mine until I yank my arm so hard that his grasp is broken. Pearls fly onto the floor, rolling along until they come to a stop against his shoes. I grab the other side and break that too. All it takes is another couple of pulls in the right places and digging my nails through the sheer fabric before the entire thing falls away, disintegrating like I’d wish all the memories of him would. I pull the scrap of ruined fabric through the gap in my dress and shove it into his chest.
“Don’t ever talk to me again.”
“Ava,” he snaps.
I turn, desperate to get away from him.
“Ava!”
He spins me back around, pressing me up against the wall so hard that the air is knocked from my lungs. The shredded bodysuit is scrunched inside his white knuckled fist beside my head. Just like in the alleyway when I let him spank me.
“You took that so well.”
I’m never taking his bullshit again.
“Fuck off,” I spit.
“I would never send you anything that I’ve bought for another woman. I’ve never bought a woman lingerie in my life.”
“I don’t care what you do. Now, let me go.”
He crowds over me. We’re not touching, but I’m caged between his arms, his fists planted against the wall on either side of me.
“I’m not stopping you,” he grits, his eyes wild.
He’s right. I could push his arms away or duck underneath them.
But I don’t.
“I didn’t know she’d be wearing that.”
“I told you. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care.”
“Jesus.” He slams a fist against the wall. “I’m telling you, Ava. I’ve never sent another woman lingerie. Or perfume. Or bought them half a juice company. Or been prepared to genetically engineer a fucking unicorn for them if they wanted one.” He shakes his head with a curse. “Only you, Ava… It’s only ever been you.”
“What about stealing their work? Am I the special one there too?”
He pushes away from the wall, his chest expanding with an angry breath as he barks out another rough curse and turns away from me.
“Thought so.” I sneer. “Aren’t I lucky?”
I storm past him, ignoring his calls of my name as I find the restrooms and barge inside. I go into a stall and place the lid down, collapsing onto the seat as I suck in deep breaths to slow my heart down .
The main door opens, and the room fills with chatter as two women spill inside, gushing over how amazing the show is.
“Did you see Francesca?” one says.
“She looked hot,” her friend agrees.
“You know her boyfriend’s in the front row, Jet Grant?”
“Like I’d miss him.” The friend giggles. “God, he’s so good-looking. They’re one hot couple. Imagine how beautiful their babies will be.”
I flush the toilet and walk out, going to the sink to wash my hands.
“I’ve heard his dick’s tiny.”
The two women’s eyes fly to mine as I dry my hands on a paper towel and fix my hair in the mirror.
“A man like that?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “He buys these herbal enlargement pills in the hope it’ll grow. It’s why he looks so moody all the time. The side effects of them are irritability.” I turn and give them a sad smile.
“That’s…” One of the woman’s eyes widen.
“Such a shame,” her friend says.
“Such a waste.” The first one sighs.
I walk out with a smug smile and follow the signs until I find the open bar area where the after-show drinks are being served.
“Darling.” My mother waves from across the room and I make my way over to her.
“Are you feeling okay? You look better. ”
I feel better, thanks.” I smile at her before looking at the man beside her.
“Oh, Ava. This is Luca. He’s an actor. We worked together on—”
“ The Hidden Paths , I remember.” I smile at the man in his late twenties and take his outstretched hand, shaking it as I take in his warm brown eyes and easy smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine, Ava.” He grins. “Zena was telling me you have a screenplay you’ve written in production. How exciting.”
“She’s extraordinary,” Mum gushes. “And so brave. Forest Girl is all based on true events.”
My smile turns brittle as Luca’s eyes widen at the title.
“Oh, I see Jane.” Mum waves to a woman across the room. “Back in a moment. I’ll just go and say hello.”
She walks off as Luca pins all of his attention on me.
“Oh, wow. That’s… that’s interesting. I’ve heard about it. I didn’t realize that was you… Well, congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I take my hand back politely.
Luca moves a little closer, lowering his voice. “I can’t imagine being in a plane crash and being the only survivor, to then be lost for, what was it? Two days?”
“Three,” I croak.
“Three.” He nods. “Wow. If you don’t mind me asking— ”
“She does mind.”
Luca’s eyes snap to the owner of the deep voice behind me, whose presence is like a burning inferno of flames licking up my spine.
“I can answer for myself, thank you, Jet.” I incline my head over my shoulder, but not far enough to meet his eyes.
I turn back to Luca. “Sure. What did you want to—?”
“I fucking mind.”
A hand curls around my hip, pulling my body into his side. I swallow at the way my stomach bounces up to my throat, then floats back down again as heat spreads in my core.
No matter how much I hate him, my body still reacts to him. Muscle memory. Orgasm memory.
“Well, you shouldn’t. Go find your girlfriend.”
I step away from him. Luca’s eyes dart between the two of us like he doesn’t want to get dragged into our spat.
“Nice to meet you, Ava. I’ll catch you later.”
Jet grumbles something as Luca escapes quickly.
“What part of ‘don’t talk to me’ don’t you understand?”
“I was talking to him, not you.”
“Whatever.” I turn to walk away.
“You’re going ahead with the movie, then?”
I laugh, turning back to him in disgust. “Now I know what you really want. You’re checking your precious deal isn’t in jeopardy.”
“Are you doing it?” His eyes bore into mine, and I swallow against the sudden lump in my throat .
How did I fall so easily for his lies?
“It’s going ahead. So you can chill out. Or have a heart attack. I don’t care. But you’d probably need a heart for that.”
“Ava,” he growls. His brows flatten, then furrow again immediately. “You’re not happy.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Jet Grant said it, so it must be true.” I snort and look around us, but everyone is having their own conversations, paying no attention to the tension radiating from our small space in the room.
“All these trips with your mum?”
“What?” I bring my eyes to meet his, ignoring the way my blood sparks like it’s electrically charged as he looks deep into mine. “How do you know what I’ve been doing?”
His jaw tightens. “I know.”
“Are you stalking me online or something?”
“You’re still mine to keep safe, Ava.”
“What? I was never yours! You made sure of that when you lied to me, over and over. When you betrayed me.”
He leans closer, his voice taking on a dark edge, like gravel blackened from rain. “Tell me you’re happy.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re no one to me.”
“But you’re someone to me.” His words from Thailand echo in my head. Lies. Lies. Lies.
“Ava,” he rasps, his breath dusting the shell of my earlobe .
I stare at his tie, studying the emerald threads running through it as he stays so close that I can smell his aftershave.
“I want to talk to you,” he whispers, “I…” His breath huffs over my skin, making me shudder. “I need to… Fuck…”
“There you are!”
He moves away quickly, his heated eyes catching mine for a split second before Francesca Callaghan wraps herself around his arm, leaning into his side.
“Fran,” he acknowledges her, making no attempt to untangle himself. “This is Ava Roberts. She’s the granddaughter of my father’s friend.”
“So nice to meet you. I’m Francesca.” She smiles at me without a hint of recognition.
Granddaughter of his father’s friend? Asshole.
I smile politely at Francesca, who’s changed into a smart pant suit.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I reply automatically.
“Baby, the press wants some photos,” she tells Jet, giving me an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry to steal him away. Why don’t we all get dinner one night. I’d love to get to know one of Jet’s friends. I’ve never met any.”
I give her a tight smile as she leads him away. They move through some open double doors and into a large side room where some of the models are posing for photos in front of a branded backdrop. Francesca pulls Jet in front of it and then places her palm flat against his chest, while pushing her breasts against him. He stands there looking solemn, his hand wrapping around her waist, then slipping lower, resting on the spot where the pearls were sitting when she was on the runway.
I whip my eyes away and grab a champagne flute from a tray a passing server is carrying.
“Thank you.”
I knock it back in one, then go in search of Mum.
I’ve seen enough.