13. Ava
Ava
Ihave no idea what to expect. I’m told Nick attends these conferences all the time. He always takes Sierra and someone from HR. It’s all about recruiting the best of the best in the tech world.
But I guess I can’t help but wonder if there’s a little more to it.
Am I going because he’s hoping for sex? Does he really think I’m just going to be his piece on one side while he fucks around with anyone and everyone he chooses?
Fuck that.
I’m not that kind of girl. I’m cool with a little fun, but he doesn’t get to bounce around.
I have some standards.
I throw a couple pair of panties into the suitcase along with some socks. He says we’ll only be there a couple of days, and it’s all about the conference, but I don’t know if I believe that. I’m kind of looking forward to getting to shut him down.
With my suitcase packed, I head downstairs. Nick insisted on sending a car to pick me up to take me to the airport. Something about the company car and all that bullshit.
Whatever.
The driver takes my suitcase and tosses it in the trunk. I get in the back and pull on my sunglasses.
Off we go.
When the driver takes a different road—not the one to the airport, I sit forward. “Excuse me, where are we going?”
“The airport, miss.”
“Uh, what airport?”
“I should say Mr. Sullivan’s hangar.”
“His hangar?”
He drives the car through an open gate and onto the blacktop. There are several planes of varying sizes parked on the tarmac.
Then I see Nick standing next to the stairs of one of those planes. Jets. They’re called jets, I remind myself.
Nick steps forward to open the door for me.
“Good morning.”
“What is that?” I ask.
“Are you referring to the Leer Jet?” he asks with confusion.
“Don’t be a smartass.”
I step out of the car, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the twinge of irritation.
Nick’s smirk doesn’t help. He’s already in his element, crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, sunglasses perched on his nose like the fucking super model he could be.
The breeze catches his hair, and for a moment, I almost forget to be annoyed.
“You didn’t mention we were flying private,” I say.
He shrugs, sliding his sunglasses down just enough to meet my eyes. “Thought it’d be a nice surprise. Faster, less hassle. Plus, I don’t do commercial unless I absolutely have to. And I never have to.”
“Of course you don’t,” I mutter, glancing at the sleek jet behind him. It feels like overkill, but then again, this is Nick. Overkill is practically his brand.
He gestures toward the stairs. “After you.”
I hesitate for a moment before climbing aboard, my heels clicking against the metal steps.
The private jet is … excessive.
I’ve never been on one before.
The interior feels like a luxury hotel suite—plush leather seats, polished wood accents, and soft ambient lighting.
A flight attendant greets me with a warm smile, offering orange juice in a delicate flute.
I take it, mainly because I’m not sure what else to do, and settle into one of the seats near the window.
Nick slides in across from me, his long legs stretching out casually.
“You look nervous,” he says, sipping his own drink.
“I’m not nervous,” I reply.
I lean back in my seat as the plane’s engines hum to life.
The jet begins to taxi down the runway, and I grip the armrests instinctively.
Nick notices and smiles. “First time on a private jet?” he asks, though it’s clear he already knows the answer.
“Not all of us are billionaires.”
He chuckles. “Relax, Ava. You’re in good hands.”
I roll my eyes, but the tension eases slightly as the jet lifts off the ground with surprising grace. I let myself marvel at the view.
As soon as we’re coasting through the air, Nick pulls out his laptop. His fingers fly over the keyboard.
I glance out the window, watching the clouds drift by. I decide to do some work as well. The trip is mostly filled with him on the phone or doing Zoom calls while I do my best to look busy.
When we finally land in New York, a car is waiting for us. Nick doesn’t say a word as we climb in, and I don’t either. The silence is thick, almost suffocating, but I don’t know how to break it.
Here I was thinking I was going to have to fend him off, but clearly, he couldn’t be less interested. I try to pretend that’s not a major blow to my self-esteem. He had me, and now I am old news. Why would he want me after hooking up with Mia Parker?
The car pulls up to a sleek, modern building in the heart of the city.
“This doesn’t look like a hotel.”
“It’s not,” he says.
“Where are we?”
“My building,” he replies.
I assume he means that literally.
Nick leads me inside. The doorman greets him by name. Nick strides through the lobby like he owns the place. Which probably means he does. We take the elevator up to the penthouse.
When the doors open, I’m speechless.
The apartment is massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a stunning view of the city. The decor is minimalist but elegant. It’s exactly what I would expect from Nick Carter.
“This is … wow,” I say.
Nick shrugs, tossing his keys onto the counter. “It’s just a place to crash when I’m in the city.”
I raise an eyebrow, glancing around. “A place to crash? This is nicer than my entire life.”
He smirks, his eyes meeting mine. “Glad you like it.”
I roll my eyes. “So, what am I doing here?”
“This is where we’ll be staying.”
“No, I’ll be staying in a hotel room.”
“Why would you want to stay in a hotel when you can stay here?”
I should have known there was an angle.
I’m both flattered and pissed. He thinks he can bring me to his place, and I’ll just be so impressed I’ll fall into his bed.
I start walking down the hallway lined with what I assume is expensive artwork. I push open a door and find a powder room. I keep moving until I find a bedroom.
“That’s the guest room,” he says from behind me.
“Perfect.”
I drag my suitcase behind me and hoist it on the bed. I’m trying to pretend it’s totally normal. Like I stay in posh rooms in luxurious penthouses all the time.
“Why are you doing that?” he asks.
I glance at him, confused. “Doing what?”
“Putting your stuff in the guest room,” he says, his lips curling into a smirk.
“Because it’s the guest room. I’m a guest. Where else would I put it?”
He steps closer. “You could stay in my room.”
I shake my head. “Nick, I thought this was a professional trip.”
He laughs. “Stop playing hard to get, Ava.”
I glare at him. “I’m not playing anything. If this is the only reason you brought me along, then I’m leaving.”
He looks genuinely surprised. “That’s not the only reason. I brought you because I trust you. And because I’d rather spend time with you than my ex and Clive.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Part of me wants to believe him, but the other part is screaming at me to run.
“Nick, I’m not interested in being one of the women in your rotation. I’m here to work. That’s it.”
“Fine. We’ll keep it professional. But you’re not staying in the guest room.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off.
“It’s not up for debate,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re staying in my room. I’ll take the guest room.”
I hesitate but then nod. “Fine.”
“Are you mad at me or something?” he asks.
“Nope.”
“Ava, I know when a woman is pissed at me. What? What’s wrong?”
I glare at him. “Nothing, Nick. I get it. You’re a man whore. You like women. That’s fine. Just don’t pretend you actually want me. I’m not just going to sleep with a man that’s taking other women to his bed. Just no. Gross.”
“Ava, you are the only one I’ve been with since … well, since before the wedding.”
“You’re a fucking liar.”
He laughs. “How would you know who’s been in my bed?”
“Because I have eyes! It’s not like you hide your escapades, Nick. The tabloids make sure of that. Mia Parker? You think I didn’t see the photos? The headlines?”
Nick’s smirk falters for a split second, but he recovers quickly, leaning against the doorframe with that infuriatingly casual air.
“Mia Parker,” he repeats, rolling the name off his tongue like it’s a joke.
“You think I’d waste my time with someone like her?
She’s all smoke and mirrors, Ava. Nothing happened.
My mom insisted I take her out. I did, and that’s that.
The pictures you saw are the extent of it. ”
“Right. And I’m supposed to believe you just magically stopped your extracurricular activities after me? Come on, Nick. Don’t insult my intelligence.”
He takes a step closer, holding my gaze, almost daring me to look away.
“Believe what you want, Ava. But the truth is, I haven’t been with anyone else since the night we were together.
And if you think for one second I’d let some tabloid gossip dictate who I am or what I want, then you don’t know me as well as you think. ”
I don’t know what to say. He looks so serious. So truthful.
“Anyway, we have to get straight to the venue,” he says. “I hope you’re ready for a late night.”
“Uh, I, what?”
“At the venue. Working.”
“Oh. Yeah. Of course.”
The venue is massive, with hundreds of people milling about, all dressed in their best business attire. I feel out of place, like I don’t belong here, but Nick doesn’t seem to notice.
As soon as we walk in, people start swarming him.
“Nick Sullivan! Over here!”
“Mr. Sullivan, can I get a moment of your time?”
“Nick, love the new app! When’s the next update?”
I’m shocked by how popular he is. People are scrambling to talk to him, to shake his hand, to get a photo. Security quickly surrounds us, escorting us to a booth near the front of the room.
I glance at the line of people waiting to talk to us, and my stomach drops. There must be hundreds of them, all hoping to get an interview on the spot.
“Nick, what do I do?”
He looks at me, his expression calm. “Just talk to them. Ask them questions. Get a feel for who they are. Interview them. That’s the job you were hired for. You’ll be fine.”
I nod, trying to steady my nerves. But before I can say anything else, Nick is pulled away to give a speech.
I’m left alone at the booth, facing a sea of eager faces.
This is going to be a long day.