Chapter 4
Avery
“I know, I know, dramatic,” Avery said, grabbing the bag of food and filling the auto-feeder’s backup dish. “There. Don’t act like you’re starving.”
She brewed her coffee, strong, black, in her favorite oversized mug, and settled at the kitchen island.
The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, and the New York sky outside her floor-to-ceiling windows was a soft, pale blue with the faintest touch of orange at the edge.
She pulled her robe tighter and started her morning ritual: doomscrolling on her phone with one hand, coffee in the other.
Celebrity drama and whatever fresh internet chaos was unfolding.
Nothing she hadn’t already seen a hundred times.
Today wasn’t just any Monday. Today was the day she had to meet with the West Coast mystery exec who wanted to “discuss partnership opportunities.” She rolled her eyes just thinking about it.
So she dressed for impact.
Her slacks were custom-tailored to hug her hips and flare slightly at the ankle just enough to show off the red-soled heels she slipped into last. Her silk tank was a soft champagne color, tucked into the high waistband, and her black suit jacket was structured and sharp, fitting like it had been made for her.
She left her hair down, long and dark and curled at the ends, a soft contrast to the power in her silhouette.
A little highlighter, mascara, eyeliner, and a classic red lip.
She looked expensive, like she owned the room.
The crisp October air met her like a challenge as she stepped outside, and she smiled a little as she walked to the subway. It was cool but not quite cold, the kind of morning that hinted at change. Avery liked change when it moved on her terms.
At the office, she tossed her bag down in her glass-walled corner office and found Gabby already waiting with her usual chai and a smirk.
“You look like a woman about to destroy someone’s dreams,” Gabby said.
“I hope so,” Avery muttered, flopping into her chair. “Remind me why I agreed to this again?”
“Because I told you it wouldn’t kill you to hear someone out.”
“And because you’re bossy.”
“Correct,” Gabby said, sipping her drink. “But be nice in the meeting, please. We don’t even know what they’re offering yet.”
“I’m not selling Lilith,” Avery said flatly.
“I know. But you can still be civil.”
Their banter was cut short when Avery’s phone lit up with a familiar contact: Mom.
“Right on time,” she said, swiping to answer. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, baby. How are you, Avery?”
“Good. Dreading today, though. I’ve got this meeting with some mysterious CEO who wants to buy my company.”
“You’re not selling, though, right?”
“Of course not. I just told Gabby the same thing.”
“Well then, just go in there and listen. Calmly. And don’t bite their head off. Unless they deserve it.”
Avery snorted. “I’ll try.”
They chatted for a few more minutes. Her mom told her she should come visit soon, and Avery promised she would. She hung up feeling that familiar pull of homesickness that always lingered for a few minutes after a call home.
The rest of her morning was packed. She sat through an IT check-in, skimmed bug reports, and signed off on updated UX mock-ups. She grabbed a protein bar and her third coffee of the morning before heading to the bathroom to touch up her lipstick.
Then she made her way to the boardroom.
She was only two minutes late. Her company. Her rules.
She pushed open the glass doors, already reaching for the iPad under her arm and then froze.
Because the woman sitting across from Gabby?
Was Quinn.
As in, the Quinn. The six-foot-two, carved-from-stone-and-smirks Quinn. The woman who kissed her senseless and gave her three orgasms like it was nothing.
That Quinn.
Quinn looked up and froze too, her brows lifting slightly in surprise, but only for a moment. Then her expression smoothed into something cooler, more composed.
“Um,” Avery said, trying to catch her breath. “Hi. You’re… you’re my meeting?”
Quinn stood, smoothing her blazer, and held out her hand. “I am. Quinn Sinclare,” she said. “CEO of Halo.”
Halo.
The lifestyle empire with a cult following on the West Coast. The one with the queer retreats, the mental health vertical, and the absurdly good wellness app. This Quinn wasn’t just a one-night stand. She was a complication.
Avery blinked. Of course she was.
Quinn’s hand was still outstretched. She stared at it for a second, because that hand had been inside her. That mouth had been everywhere.
But she recovered quickly.
She shook Quinn’s hand, her grip firm, nails painted red, and gave a soft, clipped laugh. “Avery Rossetti,” she said.
“Right,” Quinn murmured, letting go. “Nice to meet you. Again.”
What the fuck.
“Okay,” Gabby said, clapping her hands once. “So, we all know each other. some better than others…”
Quinn’s eyes went wide.
Avery wanted to die.
This was going to be one hell of a meeting.
Gabby gave them both a look, then cleared her throat. “Alright. Quinn, thanks for making the trip out. Avery, coffee?”
“No, thanks,” Avery said, never taking her eyes off Quinn. She crossed to her chair, head high, heels clicking sharp on the tile, and sat with deliberate poise. Legs crossed, back straight, expression locked down.
Professional and untouchable. Because Quinn was.
Gone was the woman who’d kissed her like a secret, who’d begged for more, who’d curled up naked and laughing with her. This Quinn was all tailored control and composure, her tone cool and clipped, her posture perfect.
It was impressive. Avery hated it.
Quinn adjusted a leather-bound portfolio in front of her, her voice smooth and steady as she began, “Let me be direct. Halo wants to acquire Lilith. We’re looking to bring your platform under our umbrella, expand our relationship and connection vertical.
What you’ve built is sharp and specific.
We don’t want to change that. We want to own it.
With your continued leadership on the tech side, of course. ”
Avery blinked. “So, not a partnership. You want to buy it.”
Quinn nodded. “Correct. A full acquisition.”
Gabby sat straighter, glancing at Avery, but didn’t say anything yet.
Avery’s mouth curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Right. So I hand you the keys, and in return I get what? A high-five and a bonus check?”
Quinn didn’t flinch. “You’d retain leadership, equity in Halo, and a seat on our board. Plus, full support for expanding the platform globally.”
“I don’t need your board. Or your support.” Avery leaned forward, voice calm but razor-sharp. “Lilith is already the number one dating app for queer women. We’re profitable. We’re scaling at our own pace. I’m not looking for someone to sweep in and offer me a bigger boat.”
Quinn’s tone stayed even. “I’m not offering a lifeboat. I’m offering scale.”
Avery laughed, but it was hollow. “You know what that sounds like to me? Losing control. You don’t want to build with me, you want to own what I’ve already built.”
“I want to elevate what you’ve built,” Quinn said. “With real capital, infrastructure, and growth.”
“This is real,” Avery snapped. “I coded the platform in my fucking apartment. I launched it with my best friend. I’ve poured every hour of my life into this company. This isn’t some project I’m looking to cash out on.”
Something flickered in Quinn’s expression, just for a second. Not surprise. Not even frustration. Just interest. A glimmer of… something.
Avery saw it. And hated the way it made her pulse jump.
Because right now, the only thing she wanted more than telling Quinn no was to drag her into her office, close the blinds, lock the door, and sit on her desk while Quinn dropped to her knees and made her forget her own name.
She clenched her jaw. Nope. Not now.
Quinn folded her hands, perfectly composed. “It’s a competitive space. This is a smart move. You know that.”
“I know when I’m being baited,” Avery said coolly. “And I’m not biting.”
Gabby finally stepped in, voice calm. “Maybe we just take a breath. Look at the proposal, run some numbers. No decisions today.”
Avery didn’t look away from Quinn. “There’s no number.”
Quinn lifted her chin, meeting her gaze with that same smooth detachment. “You’re passionate. I respect that.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Avery said, voice dropping. “You don’t get to fly in here with your ice-queen act and your billion-dollar valuation and expect me to roll over because your suit fits nice and your jawline could cut glass.”
“I don’t expect anyone to roll over,” Quinn replied, almost smiling. “But I do expect people to think beyond emotion.”
“I’m thinking just fine,” Avery said. “And the answer is no.”
Silence settled over the table.
Gabby coughed awkwardly. “So… that’s a no for now.”
Avery stood, adjusting her blazer with finality. “That’s a no. Period.”
Quinn stood too, her expression unreadable. “Thank you for your time.”
Avery nodded once. “Anytime.”
As Quinn walked out, Avery followed her with her eyes. That same body. That same walk. That same maddening composure.
And god, she still wanted her.
Not like this. Not with Quinn acting like she could own her.
Avery turned before Quinn looked back. She didn’t want her to see that it did.
Avery didn’t even wait for the boardroom door to close behind her. She spun on her heel, red soles sharp against the tile, and stormed straight into Gabby’s office.
“Can you believe that?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “The audacity alone.”
Gabby barely looked up from her laptop, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she’d been expecting this.
“She waltzes in here, all polished CEO, acting like she didn’t fuck my brains out the night before last, and again yesterday morning,” Avery continued, pacing in front of Gabby’s desk like a lion in a too-small cage.
“And then has the nerve to sit there, cool as you please, and act like we haven’t even met. ”
Gabby closed her laptop with a soft click. “You done?”
“She tells me I can be an employee, Gabby,” Avery snapped, whirling around to face her. “An employee. Of my own fucking company.”
Gabby raised her brows. “Technically, she said you’d retain leadership…”
“No. Don’t do that,” Avery said, pointing. “Don’t defend her. That woman looked me in the eye and offered to buy my baby. My life’s work. And then she just sat there like we’re strangers. Like she hasn’t seen me naked. Like her tongue hasn’t—never mind.”
Gabby held up both hands, laughing now. “Okay, okay. I’m not saying you should sell. I’m not saying she wasn’t a little… intense.”
“Intense?” Avery scoffed. “She was all polish and distance in five-thousand-dollar heels.”
Gabby tilted her head. “You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”
Avery narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Gabby said gently, “you look like someone who just got ghosted and then forced into a team-building exercise with the ghost.”
Avery opened her mouth to argue. Closed it again. Ran a hand through her hair with a frustrated groan.
“She didn’t even ask for my number,” she muttered, flopping into one of the chairs opposite Gabby’s desk. “I thought maybe… I don’t know what I thought. But I didn’t think this.”
Gabby leaned her elbows on the desk, resting her chin in one hand. “So what are you gonna do?”
“Nothing,” Avery snapped, too quickly. “I’m gonna do nothing. I’m going to run my company, go home tonight, and forget Quinn Fucking Sinclare ever existed.”
Gabby blinked, brows lifting. “Quinn Sinclare?” she repeated, like she hadn’t just been in the room with her ten minutes ago.
Avery groaned. “Do not Google her right now.”
Gabby’s fingers were already flying across the keyboard.
“Gabby.”
“I’m just checking her net worth,” Gabby said sweetly, eyes glued to the screen. “You know. For research.”
Avery let her head fall back against the chair with a dramatic thud. “I hate everything about this.”
“No,” Gabby said brightly. “You hate that she looks like that, and she’s brilliant, and she had the audacity to walk in here and try to buy your company like she didn’t spend a whole night worshipping your body.”
“She has the balls to come for me and then pretend none of it happened,” Avery grumbled. “Like I imagined it. Like her mouth didn’t—ugh.”
Gabby let out a low whistle. “Wow. Okay.” Her eyes widened as she scrolled.
Avery narrowed hers. “What?” she asked before changing her mind.
“No, no, I don’t want to know,” she said quickly, holding up a hand. “I don’t.”
“You sure?” Gabby asked, signature sculpted eyebrow raised in question.
Avery hesitated, because she wasn’t. “Fine,” she muttered. “Hit me.”
Gabby angled her screen slightly. “Halo is top-notch. Like, top of the top. They’re not just some shiny L.A.
brand trying to ride the wave, Av. They’ve got insane reach, their user engagement numbers are ridiculous, and their lifestyle platform is clean.
Scary clean. Like our backend infrastructure, but sexier. ”
Avery’s stomach turned, but not in the bad way. In the annoying, ugh-maybe-she-has-a-point way.
The thing was, Gabby wasn’t just her best friend.
She was the business side of Lilith. Avery built the code, the platform, the tech.
Gabby built the company around it. She’d gone to school for business development and market strategy.
If Gabby thought there was even a sliver of potential in this, Avery had to at least pretend to consider it.
“Gabby… no.”
“I’m not saying we sell,” Gabby said calmly. “This is your baby. Ours. But can I at least do the research? Just due diligence? And maybe tell Quinn we’ll circle back in a week or two?”
Avery sighed, chewing her lip. “Fine. But that doesn’t mean we’re doing this. And she needs to know that. I’m not selling shit.”
“Fair deal. I’ll email her.”
“You have her email?”
Gabby grinned. “And now her Instagram, if you want her handle?”
Avery paused, too dangerous, too easy to spiral.
“No,” she said firmly. “You handle this. I don’t want her Instagram handle.”
Gabby gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
There was a beat. The tension hadn’t left Avery’s shoulders, but the immediate steam had started to fade.
“Drinks after work?” Gabby offered.
Avery gave a tired smile. “No. I’m going to go home, eat my feelings, and drink wine in the bathtub.”
Gabby laughed. “God, I love you.”
Avery stood up and stretched. “I love you too. Even when you Google my enemies-slash-one-night-stands.”
“Only the hottest ones,” Gabby called after her.
Avery didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Because she knew if she did, she’d ask for that Instagram handle. And she wasn’t ready to open that door.
* * *