Chapter 7
AVA
“You were such a good boy tonight,” I murmur, getting Theo settled in his crib. “You were so good for Auntie Cassie.”
He murmurs and smiles up at me with those amber-gold eyes.
I swallow, emotion making my chest tight. “Did you like meeting your daddy, hmm? That was a trip, huh? I didn’t see that coming. You would’ve been proud of mommy, you perfect little angel. Everyone in that place was too scared to bid against him, but not me.”
Once he’s settled, I go into the living room and put my feet up, calling Mom.
I’ve always been close with my mother, able to talk to her about anything.
In high school, when my friends were complaining about their parents, I always counted myself lucky, blessed even, to not be able to relate to them.
“Hey, sorry for calling so late,” I say.
“Don’t be silly,” she replies.
“How was your anniversary date?”
“Wonderful. Just… sublime. Your father is sleeping it off, but I’m still too wired. How was the auction?”
“Interesting,” I murmur.
“I know that tone,” she says warmly. “Something happened.”
“A lot happened. I’m not sure you’ll believe it.”
“Try me.”
So I do. I start by seeing Rafael in the auction hall, then move on to outbidding him, then I tell her how he held Theo in the backroom. “Theo stopped crying straight away, Mom. I tried to play it off like it was no big deal.”
“But it meant a lot to you.”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“You don’t have to sound guilty about it. He’s Theo’s father. Of course it meant a lot.”
“Why do I sense a but coming?”
“Well, you said he gave you a fake name. And he fed you some line about thinking you were dead? And who even is he, Ava? What does he do for work? Is he a full-time art dealer, or is that some sideline?”
I swallow, wondering if I should mention the mob rumors. But this is complicated enough without adding that onto the pile. If I tell her that, she might tell me to run as far away from him as I can possibly get…
And maybe that’s what I should want, but I’m not sure it is.
“I don’t know,” I murmur.
“You need answers,” Mom says. “And even with answers, it’s not like you have any obligation to let him into yours or Theo’s life. Frankly, I’m not even sure what he thinks he’s talking about. He thought you were dead? How would he get that information? Why would he believe it?”
Mom’s getting herself worked up, her voice rising, tone growing bitter.
For an insane second, I almost jump in and start defending him… the man who gave me a fake name, the man who screwed me then disappeared.
Maybe it’s my fault for being such a deep sleeper…
“It reeks of an older man who thinks he can feed you any silly lie and expect you to swallow it. No, no, no, Ava, you need to be careful here.”
“I know you’re right,” I murmur.
“Ava—”
“I said I know,” I cut in. “Seriously. I’m not going to do anything silly.”
“One of the most beautiful things about you is your optimism. It always has been. But that can be a negative too, if you let it.”
“I know, Mom.”
After a pause, she says, “Wait a second, why was Theo even at the auction?”
“The sitter cancelled.”
“Oh, honey.”
“You and Dad deserve a life.”
“Theo is our life. You are our life.”
“Thanks, Mom. For talking. For everything. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
After saying our goodbyes, I walk into the kitchen, cleaning some dishes I left stacked earlier today. I don’t feel tired at all, despite the fact it’s almost 1 AM. After the dishes, I grab my sketching pad, curling up on the couch, and idly sketching without letting myself think too much.
I’m halfway through a tall, dark silhouette cradling a baby in its arms when my phone buzzes.
Rafael(NOT Michael): You up? It’s Rafael.
I should ignore it. Listen to Mom’s advice and tell him to go to hell.
But something in me shivers just staring at the words.
I’m not going to melt like some heroine in a romcom or anything like that.
But without him around – without the need to guard my true feelings – it’s impossible to deny the truth…
I ache for him.
Ava: Yea.
A moment later, he calls me. I bite my lip, my heart beating hard and fast in my chest. Despite everything, there’s one truth I’ve spent all night trying to ignore.
Rafael is hot. He was hot when he was Michael, and he’s hot now, I know his real name. Plus, there’s the emotional bomb of believing my child would never know his father, only to see him cradled gently in his big arms.
“Do you always call women this late?” I say, answering. “Perhaps you like it when they’re sleepy, and their defenses are down.”
“I don’t do anything with anyone,” he says, his voice husky.
“Another line,” I murmur.
“I haven’t fed you a single line,” he growls.
“Only that you think this zombie chick is even hotter after all that pregnancy weight…”
“Look, I sent one of my men to check on you. He came back with a death certificate, claiming you’d died in a car crash.”
“One of your men,” I repeat. “And I’m supposed to pretend I don’t understand what you mean by that?”
“I can’t get into any of that over the phone. And yeah, Ava, you’re hot as hell. You were hot before the pregnancy, and you’re hotter now. Call me a damn liar if you want, but if you could feel how I’m burning up right now, you’d know I was telling the truth.”
I move the phone away from my face, biting my lip to stop the moan I want to least lose from escaping me. It’s insane, but my body doesn’t feel anywhere near as confused as my head and heart.
“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies…”
He laughs gruffly. “If you want answers, real answers, it needs to be in person. And I can give you proof about why I never came back. Hell, Ava, do you seriously think, after that night we shared, I’d just abandon you, never think about you again? I’ve thought about you every damn day.”
I chew the edge of my fingernail, then realize what I’m doing and stop myself. My inner thighs ache like they do when I wake from dreams of this beautiful stranger.
I squeeze my legs together, my underwear rubbing against my sex, threatening to make me delirious.
“Hmm,” I murmur.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“Send a courier with the proof.”
“It has to be in person,” he says. “I can’t risk sending anything.”
“This is all awfully convenient for you,” I say.
“You can’t blame me for wanting to see you or my son again.”
“Those are two separate questions. Seeing me and seeing Theo.”
“He’s my son, Ava. My blood. That means something.”
“Yes, fine. Just like my boundaries and my valid concerns and my wishes do.”
He sighs tiredly. “I’m not the enemy.”
“I’m not so sure about that yet.”
“We’ll meet somewhere public. I’ll give you answers, proof. Then you can make up your mind.”
I glance at Theo’s bedroom door, my skin pricking with something like adrenaline. Whatever else is happening here, future Theo will want to know I tried to make it so he could have a relationship with his father, right?
“Fine,” I mutter. “A cup of coffee. But don’t try anything.”
“Try anything,” he repeats. “What sort of monster do you think I…” He stops, laughs huskily. “Wait, you’re not talking about violence, are you, Ava?”
My skin pricks for an entirely different reason, my head cloudy. I can’t let him know the effect he has on me, but I must make a sound or something, or maybe he can just sense it.
“You’re talking about that night,” he says, tone fierce. “You’re talking about the white-hot fact I couldn’t keep my hands off you, couldn’t have resisted you even if there was a damn firing squad aiming their guns at me.”
I press my legs together so tightly that my muscles ache. My underwear is like a traitor grinding against my sex, sending sparks coursing through me. My conflicted heart sings out in denial, but my body can’t make any bold claims.
“Right,” I murmur…
No, I moan.
“More lines.”
“Nothing I’ve said to you is a damn line,” he snarls.
“When I talk about your thick, gorgeous, curvy body driving me wild, that’s the truth, Ava.
When I talk about looking at you tonight, your hips and your ass and those delicious fucking thighs making me want to howl, that’s the truest thing I’ve ever said.
When I say I’m getting rock-hard thinking about getting you naked and kissing every single inch of your beautiful body, you best believe I’m telling the truth. ”
Say goodbye, I urge myself. Tell him he’s going too far…
“Oh?” I murmur instead.
“You want more?” he growls.
“I said oh, didn’t I?” I snap.
“I’ll only give you more if I can confirm you’re getting some use out of these words. You know what I mean by that, angel?”
“Maybe I don’t.”
He laughs huskily. “You want me to say it.”
I do. God help me.
The spark I felt that first night has returned, only now there’s almost a year’s worth of extra kindling inside me, ready to catch the blaze.
“I need you to slide your hand down your perfect, curvy body and into your underwear. I need – fucking need, Ava – you to slide your hand over your soaked core, your entrance that’s fluttering and begging for my touch.
I need you to remember that night we shared.
When I went down on you for half an hour, even when you were moaning and twitchy and ready for me to fuck you.
Not for you, Ava. But because I was addicted to your taste, to every twitch and shiver in your body. ”
Oh, fuck.
Who could resist this?
I’ll feel guilty about it tomorrow, but right now, I don’t let myself care.
“Are you doing it?” he groans.
His tone is the same as last year, dark, demanding, and hungry.
I slip my hand into my underwear, press the heel of my palm against my clit as my entrance flutters and leaks a fresh wave of wetness.
“Yuh-yes,” I murmur.
“Oh, fuck,” he snarls, in that tone I’ve remembered so many times.
It’s like he’s amazed at every little thing I do, constantly fascinated by how captivated I make him.
“Tell me,” he says.
“No,” I murmur. “You talk.”
“Yes or no, then,” he growls. “Is your hand touching your wet pussy?”
“Yah-yes,” I moan, sliding my hand up and down, my hips twitching as I shift against my hand.
“Are you wet?”
“Yes.”
“Are you fucking soaked for me?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Good, oh, Christ, that’s good,” he moans.
I lick my lips. “What… about you?”
“You want to know what I’m doing? Say it, then. Tell me how badly you need to know.”
“I need it,” I moan. “I need to know if you’re… touching yourself too. Tell me. Don’t make me ask again.”
“Fuck,” he growls.
The brutal hunger in his voice makes me rock my hips faster, chasing the electric spark, as I shamefully let the emotional complexity fall away.