Chapter 5
Quinn
What the actual fuck?!
Quinn stared down at her laptop screen, coffee cooling beside her, untouched for the past fifteen minutes.
She sat tucked into a corner booth at a minimalist-chic café in the West Village, white walls, plants dangling from ceiling hooks, ambient indie music drifting from above.
Her suit jacket was folded beside her, sleeves of her crisp white blouse rolled to the elbows.
She’d come here to decompress. Regroup. Maybe sketch out some notes for her next meeting.
Instead, she was spiraling.
Because apparently, the hottest sex of her life, the woman who had left her dizzy and aching and stunned yesterday morning, was Avery Fucking Rossetti.
CEO. Creator. And the woman currently refusing to even consider selling her company.
Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a quiet, incredulous laugh. “This is why I don’t do this,” she muttered. “Exactly why.”
Control. Precision. Discipline. That was her playbook. No surprises, no messy entanglements, no reckless flings with strangers in bars who turned out to be the very CEO she was flying cross-country to negotiate with.
How had she not known?
She reopened the pitch packet on her laptop, scanning for the details she clearly missed.
Company Founder: Franchesca Rossetti.
No mention of Avery. No photo. No press appearances, just formal releases and co-authored statements with Gabrielle Cohen.
“Franchesca Rossetti,” she murmured.
She opened a new tab. Typed it in.
Dozens of results that were professional and polished. Tech publications. Industry rankings. Praise for Lilith’s UX design and community-first structure. A platform that had grown organically and eclipsed every other queer app on the market.
Then she clicked Images.
And there she was.
Avery.
Hair long and glossy, tucked behind one ear in a press photo. That same sharp mouth. That same dangerous spark in her eyes.
Quinn opened another tab, hesitated a second, and typed: Avery Rossetti.
Fewer results, but there was an Instagram. She clicked on it. Private. Of course.
Bio: Avery Franchesca Rossetti. Creator and CEO of Lilith. Music lover. Fun. Creative. Likes to code.
It all clicked. She used her middle name in business.
Strategic. Smart. A buffer between her personal life and the empire she’d built.
Quinn couldn’t even be mad. She respected the hell out of it.
No last names at the bar. No talk about work.
Just chemistry and heat, control slipping like silk through her fingers.
She reached for her latte, cold now, but she drank it anyway.
She should’ve prepared better. She should’ve vetted the CEO herself, checked names or photos, anything…but she hadn’t.
Because she never needed to. Her team was always thorough, and honestly, she hadn’t expected to care this much.
She’d been the one who insisted on flying to New York. She wanted to meet the founder in person. To feel the room. To understand the woman behind the tech.
And because she wanted Lilith.
Not just for the numbers, though the numbers were absurd, and Quinn wasn’t above appreciating that.
But Halo had been missing something for a while now.
She’d felt it creeping in. In feedback buried in support tickets.
In survey responses that all said the same thing in different words: sleek, easy, efficient…
and cold. Polished, impressive, yet somehow empty.
Two years ago, Quinn’s former business partner had walked away quietly, cleanly, like she’d already mourned the company before she left it.
After that, Halo kept scaling, kept expanding, kept performing.
But the heart of it, the part that made users feel like someone actually gave a damn, had thinned out.
Quinn didn’t like to think of her company as something that needed a heart. It was a corporation. Built to perform. Built to scale. Except lately, it had started to feel too clinical. Even to her.
Lilith wasn’t like that. Lilith felt… personal. Like it had been built by a real person with real opinions about safety and community and what queer women actually wanted. It didn’t just function, it connected.
Quinn avoided messy.
But she did do solutions.
She just didn’t expect the solution to look like Avery Rossetti. And she definitely hadn’t expected to have already met her.
She hadn’t anticipated she’d walk into that bar and be blindsided by the most beautiful woman she’d seen in years. She didn’t expect that spark. The way Avery looked at her like she already knew her.
She absolutely did not foresee taking her back to her hotel room. Quinn should know better than to do things like that. One-night stands were chaos, and Quinn thrived on control.
Except with Avery. In bed, she’d let go completely. She’d surrendered. And god, it felt good. To stop thinking and to let Avery fuck her. To be touched. Told what to do.
The way she’d said good girl, voice rough and reverent. Told her to come. Praised her like it mattered. It was the sexiest thing Quinn had ever experienced. She’d never been unraveled like that. And it was all down to Avery.
She just hadn’t expected her. Avery, the woman who kissed her like she knew her. Who went into her hotel room and made her forget her own name. Who laughed breathlessly against her chest after their fourth shared orgasm and whispered, “This doesn’t happen to me.”
She hadn’t even considered that same woman would walk into a boardroom and look at her like a stranger. She hadn’t even considered that she would walk into an acquisition meeting and find Avery at the other end of the boardroom table, and that every emotion in her body would shut down.
Quinn stared down at her now empty cup. Her chest tightened.
She had to compartmentalize for business, but she wanted her again.
She wanted the deal too. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure which one she wanted more.
Avery had looked her dead in the eye and said no.
She had made it crystal clear she would rather burn her company to the ground than sell it to Halo.
Quinn leaned back in the booth and tapped her fingers against the rim of the ceramic. This was supposed to be straightforward. A pitch, a proposal, a few polite follow-ups. Now? Quinn found herself in a situation loaded with emotion and risk.
And worst of all, she still wanted her. God help her, she still wanted Avery Rossetti. But she also wanted Avery’s company.
* * *
Frustration settled in. She was in New York all week and didn’t know what she was going to do now that things had been shut down so abruptly. The plan had been to open negotiations—even if Lilith didn’t say yes immediately, Quinn expected conversations. Counteroffers. Movement.
Not to be told no like it was final, like it was done. Avery had shut the door and bolted it. Now Quinn had to find a way in.
It was nearly 9 p.m., and she was sitting cross-legged on the plush hotel bed, a single glass of red wine in hand, the TV muted in the background.
Her suit jacket hung neatly over the back of the desk chair.
She’d changed into a silky black camisole and matching pajama pants the moment she got back.
She wasn’t relaxing. She was spiraling, already running angles.
She needed to find the right one.
When the email pinged, she didn’t check it right away. It wasn’t until the second alert lit up her screen that she reached for her laptop.
Her eyebrows lifted.
She clicked.
Subject: Your offer
From: GabrielleCohen@
Hello Quinn,
I wanted to apologize for what took place during the meeting earlier today. None of us expected it, clearly.
Full transparency: I was at Velvet that night with Avery. I was the one she told where she’d be, just in case you were, and I quote. “a hot serial killer.”
Anyway, I’ve been doing some research into your company. While Avery is still very much against selling, she trusts me, and she’s given me the go-ahead to look into things on our end.
Would you be open to a meeting tomorrow? Just you and I. Not in the office. Maybe a café or coffee shop? I’d like to talk through some things.
Thanks,
Gabby Cohen
Lilith COO
Quinn let out a long breath, half a laugh. Interesting.
So Avery wasn’t completely immovable, she just needed a softer angle. And Gabby? Smart and strategic. Exactly the kind of person Quinn could work with.
She typed a reply immediately, no hesitation in her fingers.
Subject: Re: Your offer
From: Quinn_Sinclare@
Good evening, Gabby,
I’d very much like to meet you tomorrow. Would the restaurant in my hotel work? I’m staying at The Astor, but you already know that.
Say 1 p.m.?
Best regards,
Quinn Sinclare
Halo CEO and founder.
She hit send and leaned back, wineglass spinning between her fingers.
This was something, an opening, maybe she could still get what she wanted, at least where business was concerned. Wanting Avery was a problem.
She set her wineglass down carefully on the nightstand. Stood. She let the silk slip off her shoulders, skin cooling in the hotel air. She pulled back the covers, climbed into the cool sheets, and lay flat on her back.
Her hand drifted down her stomach.
She closed her eyes. And let herself imagine Avery. That voice. That smirk. That low, rough order in her ear, “Get on your knees and eat me until I scream.”
Quinn came with Avery’s name in her mouth. And the echo of no still burning in her chest.
* * *
Quinn arrived at the hotel restaurant a few minutes early.
She chose a table in the back corner, away from the late-lunch rush, and positioned herself so she had a clear view of the door.
It was instinct and habit. She ordered a black coffee, her second of the day, and sipped it while reviewing her mental notes.
This wasn’t a formal negotiation, but it could be the start of one. She had to stay sharp.
Gabby arrived right on time, dressed in a blazer and sneakers, her curls pulled back in a loose bun. Casual, but intentional. She moved with purpose as she crossed the restaurant and offered a warm smile.
“Thanks for meeting me,” she said as she sat. “Also, this place feels very… you.”
Quinn arched a brow. “Quinn-core?”
“Minimalist. Sleek. Expensive in a very intentional way. It gives off, millionaires-stay-here,” Gabby said, grinning as she picked up the menu. “No offense.”
Quinn let the corner of her mouth twitch. “None taken.”
Gabby ordered an iced tea, and once the server left, they got right to it.
“Look,” Gabby said, leaning back. “I really do appreciate you meeting with me. And I’m sorry about the way things went down yesterday. The thing about Avery… she is this business. Like, this company is her.”
Quinn folded her hands, listening.
“She built Lilith from scratch,” Gabby went on. “Coded the first version herself, lived on caffeine and takeout for years. I came in later. I ran the operations, funding, helping her scale. But the soul of it? That’s Avery. So, the thought of her selling it? Feels like selling a part of herself.”
“I understand that,” Quinn said evenly. “And I’m not looking to take that away from her. What I’m offering isn’t a rebrand or gutting the product. It’s stability. Growth. Halo has the resources and infrastructure to take Lilith global, to secure it for the long term.”
Gabby tilted her head. “Under Halo.”
“Yes,” Quinn said simply. “Full acquisition. Lilith would become part of Halo’s portfolio, its own division, but under our umbrella. Avery would remain CEO of the product, and you’d stay on as COO. But the financials, the systems, the scaling? We’d take that off your plate.”
Gabby stirred her straw thoughtfully. “So, we’d be reporting up?”
“To me, yes,” Quinn said. “But with autonomy where it matters. The brand, the user experience, the community, that stays yours. What changes is how fast you can grow and how protected you are doing it.”
Gabby nodded. “Talk me through what that looks like in practice.”
“Halo would acquire full ownership,” Quinn said.
“Your teams stay intact. Salaries, stock conversions, and retention packages covered. You’d get access to Halo’s backend infrastructure, trust and safety network, and growth analytics.
In the first year, I’d expect to double your active users and cut your operating costs by a third. ”
“That’s a bold projection,” Gabby said, raising a brow.
“I don’t make them lightly,” Quinn replied. “Our systems already run social apps with user bases ten times your size, at higher safety compliance and lower overhead. You’d gain immediate support, legal, data, security, international expansion. You wouldn’t have to build that from scratch.”
Gabby let out a quiet laugh. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s not,” Quinn said, her tone soft but certain. “But it’s sustainable. Avery has done the hard part; she built something people believe in. I’m offering a way to make sure it lasts.”
Gabby studied her. “You talk like someone who’s already decided it’s a good deal.”
“I have,” Quinn said simply. “Now it’s about convincing her.”
Gabby smirked. “That’ll be the real challenge. She’s not exactly the type to hand over control.”
“I don’t expect her to,” Quinn said. “But she deserves to see what’s possible if she does.”
They paused as the server refilled their glasses. The quiet between them felt deliberate.
“What do you think she’ll say?” Quinn asked after a moment.
Gabby tilted her head, considering. “She’ll probably say no at first. But she listens to me. If I think it’s worth discussing, she’ll at least hear it.”
“That’s all I ask,” Quinn said.
Gabby nodded. “Send me an outline of what Halo’s bringing to the table, numbers, projections, structural terms. I’ll run the data and if it’s solid, I’ll bring it to her.”
“I’ll have it in your inbox tonight,” Quinn said.
Gabby pulled a business card from her bag and slid it across the table. On the back, in neat handwriting, was a ten-digit number. “That’s Avery’s cell. In case you decide to reach out yourself.”
Quinn’s brows lifted slightly. “Thank you.”
Gabby smiled faintly. “Just don’t screw it up, business or otherwise.”
“No promises,” Quinn said quietly, tucking the card into her pocket.
They stood, finishing their drinks. The late afternoon light spilled across the restaurant windows as they shook hands.
“Goodbye, Quinn,” Gabby said.
“Goodbye, Gabby. Talk soon, hopefully.”
Outside, the city hummed in motion. Quinn lingered a moment under the awning, the card heavy in her pocket.
She had her opening. She had leverage. And now, she had Avery’s number.
* * *