1. Ava #2
Up until this point, I had purposely ignored that obvious fact.
She had the same long black hair, the same bright blue eyes, the same curvaceous figure.
I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself that there might still be something there on his part.
What did it matter if there was? He’d gone off and married the heiress to a massive oil fortune, and I’d gone to law school, and we’d left the past where it was—bygones, and all that rot.
“You’re prettier,” he whispered, but quickly added, “Not that it’s a competition. I’m a girl’s girl, after all, and cutting down other women for the sake of male attention is beneath someone of my stature.”
A chuckle raced up my throat before I could stop it.
“But you’re also smarter,” he added, “and sharper. And if you wanted, you could probably have Scott Fitzgerald IV, Seventh Earl of Douchebags, calling you Mommy, too.”
“Stop it,” I hissed, trying to compose myself.
“C’mon.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “You’re Avalon Vanderbilt the First. Queen bitch of Helena, Montana. You’ve walked into boardrooms with guys more powerful than him and had them eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“Yes, but now it’s personal,” I said. “A sizeable deal with his company would get us out of this massive hole from losing the ranch. He’s got grid rights nobody’s built on since his grandfather. We could use that to our advantage.”
Lycan tilted his head to look over his shoulder one last time before standing up.
“If you say so.” He finished his champagne and placed the glass on an end table before reaching out to take mine. “Just play along, right?”
I furrowed my brows, but before I could ask any clarifying questions, he straightened his jacket and nodded toward the doors, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.
I smoothed my hands down my little black dress and walked inside, trying not to stiffen as his palm landed on my lower back.
Since we’d been here, I could count the number of times he’d touched me on five fingers, and all of those had been accidental.
This was intentional. A claiming. A territory grab.
“Ava!” Bea beamed and pulled me into a hug over her baby bump, leaning in to kiss my cheeks. “You look lovely.”
“Bea,” I said and returned the greeting. “Good to see you. Pregnancy agrees with you.”
She rubbed her belly and smiled. “After three boys, Scott’s aching for a girl.”
I forced my grin tighter and turned to my ex. “Scott. It’s wonderful to see you.”
“You, too, Lonnie.” He opened his arms for a hug, and I leaned in, wincing at the nickname.
His Lonnie had been naive and pliable, willing to do just about anything for him, except give him her future.
Avalon Vanderbilt had hardened into stone.
Steady and unshakeable, cut from the same marble as her father. “You remember Pierre?”
Scott gestured to the older man next to him, the CEO of Joyeaux International.
“Of course,” I said, shaking Pierre’s hand. “We met last week.”
“Made quite the deal,” Pierre said. “I’m still reeling over the details. But what else can I expect from the daughter of Uther Vanderbilt? The man was notoriously cunning, and the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree.”
“Pierre!” someone called from across the room. “You need to hear this.”
The older man politely excused himself to make his rounds, and I smiled to myself. Pierre had just opened the door; I only had to walk through it.
“And who’s this?” Scott gestured to Lycan, standing beside me, his hand still possessively on my waist.
“Lycan Mitchell.” He held his hand out for Scott to shake, and my ex took it in his firm grip. “Head of Global Strategy and Partnerships for Royal Unlimited.”
“Right,” Scott said. His gaze dropped to Lycan’s curling fingers on my hip, and I struggled not to move, not to seem like this was the first time I’d ever felt them there.
I caught on to the game quickly. Lycan was pretending to be intimate, acting as if there might be something more between us so that Scott wouldn’t have the upper hand.
I bit back a grin. “I heard you’d made peace with your father’s old nemesis. ”
“Well, you know what they say about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.” Lycan tightened his hold on my waist.
“How fabulous,” Bea said.
“It’s been incredible,” I started, explaining how we’ve managed to combine our resources to make both companies even more reputable.
As I talked, Lycan ran his fingers up my ribs to my bare shoulder before sweeping them over my arm.
I tried to ignore the shiver down my spine.
No one had touched me like this in years, and the sensation crept into my nerves, coiling in my stomach, puddling between my legs. I ignored that, too.
“Ava’s brilliant, you know,” Lycan said. “And with our sights set globally, we’re on track to diversify our offerings.”
“The European market is expanding quite rapidly,” Scott added. “Now’s the time.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I heard your father turned over most of the control of Fitz to your sister when he retired.”
Scott tried, unsuccessfully, to hide his wince and murmured under his breath. “She’s made a grand mess of things.”
“Oh?” I pretended to be unaware of their current financial status. They needed our investment. We needed the global expansion. It was a win-win.
“Scott’s being facetious,” Bea said, trying to soothe her husband’s sour mood. “Liv’s been a breath of fresh air.”
“Quiet, Beatrice,” Scott snapped.
Sufficiently chastised, Bea trained her features into a calm facade and sipped her bubble water.
I pursed my lips and settled tighter into Lycan’s side. It probably shredded his ego when his younger sister took over, after he’d been trained and prepped for the position his entire life.
“We’re looking for a European platform. Licenses, connections, a name people recognize.” I forced a congenial smile as Lycan leaned into my ear, intimately brushing my hair over my shoulder.
“Very good. Now drive it home,” he whispered.
“I’m told there are three worth having, and I’ve already met with the other two.
” Trying to keep my face neutral, I acted like we weren’t as desperate for them as they were for us.
Scott stayed silent for a few moments, long enough for me to add, “Or perhaps I should reach out to Olivia. She and I were such good friends all those years ago.”
That was a stretch. Olivia barely tolerated her brother’s girlfriends, even less those who came from families less well off than hers. But for the two years Scott and I were together, she’d been agreeable, certainly enough to entertain the idea of sitting down with me if Scott proved uncooperative.
“You always did know how to go for the throat,” Scott replied.
“Consider it.” I tried to sound confident rather than threatening, but Lycan’s flexing grip suggested it was the latter. “We’re going to Denmark in the next few weeks, but our trip ends in London. I’ll have my assistant reach out.”
“Hmm.” Scott sipped his champagne and grinned. “It was good to see you again, Lonnie.” He shifted his attention to Lycan as he wrapped an arm around Bea. “Mr. Mitchell.”
As they turned to disappear into the party, Lycan smiled and shook his head. “You’re ruthless.”
I sighed. “Securing a deal with them would open our way into the British market. The others will fold as soon as they hear Fitz Global is on board. We let them keep their name on the side of the building while silently taking the lion’s share. It’s a win-win.”
I could have flown home and waited for Scott to call, but a Vanderbilt leaving Europe with one agreement in place would come across a certain way.
By morning, any ground I’d gained would be renegotiated, and the term sheets would come back with new numbers on them.
I couldn’t be seen to flinch. So I didn’t.
My attention caught on a blonde woman eyeing me from the back corner of the room. She was tall and lithe, with chin-length hair cropped at a lethal angle. I didn’t recognize her, but the gleaming and mildly threatening look in her eye suggested she knew me…or perhaps my family.
“Do you know that woman over there?” I asked, leaning into Lycan.
He furrowed his brows and followed my eyeline, but in the time I’d spared to look away, she’d already gotten lost in the crowd.
“Who?” Lycan stretched his neck and looked to my right.
“Never mind,” I said. “Maybe too much champagne. I’m going to the bathroom to freshen up.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No,” I said. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”
I walked to the washroom, did my business, and washed my hands, fighting the churn in my stomach and the vibration in my nerves. A chill slithered up my spine, resulting in a stabbing pain between my temples. Maybe I was coming down with the flu.
Another toilet flushed, and the stall next to the one I used opened, revealing the haunting woman from earlier. She stepped out, and I met eyes with her in the mirror as she went to the sink on my left.
“Ava Vanderbilt,” she said.
“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.” I grabbed a towel to dry my hands.
“No, I don’t believe we have,” she said. “I knew your mother. From before.”
“My mother?” The words tripped over my lips. Priscilla Kennedy-Vanderbilt had disappeared twenty years ago when I was six. We’d only ever found a bloody patch in the snow. “How?”
The stranger didn’t answer, just dried her hands and smiled, something sinister and foreboding flashing behind eyes so dark they were almost black. “You look just like her.”
Then she turned and left me there, mouth open and startled, in bewilderment.
What the hell?
My mother had strawberry-blond hair and green eyes. My sisters, Sol and Guin, were spitting images of her. Me? I’d inherited my father’s dark coloring and bright blue eyes. Aside from similar facial structure, I didn’t resemble her at all.
I hesitated for only a moment before I rushed out of the bathroom after the woman, wanting to ask her more, but she was gone. I didn’t find her in the ballroom, either.