(From here, Ava will be referred to as Serena, as Aunt Torres and the Vanderbilt staff recognize her as “Serena” or “Miss Morales,” Alexander’s wife.)
Serena had spent the morning finalizing paperwork at the agency before heading to her new house. The previous owner had left it in pristine condition, already renovated and furnished. All she needed to do was move in with her bags.
Determined, she returned to Le Châteauesque Manor, gathering her scattered belongings. The grand estate, with its imposing architecture and sprawling gardens, felt suffocating rather than luxurious. It was too intertwined with Alexander’s presence.
Aunt Torres, noticing her efforts, couldn't help but voice her concern.
"Miss Morales, is this really a good idea? You’ve never lived in Le Châteauesque Manor before, and now that the old master is back, he might come by unexpectedly. He’s not easy to fool. Last time, he even went into Mr. Vanderbilt’s room and didn’t look happy. If he notices your belongings missing, he will certainly ask questions."
Serena sighed, rubbing her temples. Grandfather Vanderbilt’s return to New York had complicated things. The last thing she needed was him prying into her and Alexander’s nonexistent marriage.
Reluctantly, she dropped half of her luggage. "I’ll move some things over first and still come here regularly. But I can’t let Rex stay locked up any longer. I’ll bring her with me."
At the mention of Rex, the large husky wagged her tail, sensing the excitement in Serena’s voice. Le Châteauesque Manor was ideal for a dog—expansive, safe, and filled with hidden corners to explore. The only drawback was Alexander.
The house Serena had bought was nice, but it lacked the grandeur of Le Châteauesque Manor. Still, it was hers, and that meant everything.
Aunt Torres studied her for a moment, then sighed. She could see that Miss Morales had no attachment to Mr. Vanderbilt whatsoever. If Alexander realized this, she wondered how he’d react.
Serena packed half of her luggage and left.
---(From here, Serena will be referred to as Ava, as Raphael recognizes her as “Ava,” the designer.)
Arriving at her new home, Ava carefully unpacked, placing her clothes neatly in the wardrobe before letting Rex explore the house, sniffing every corner curiously. The fresh scent of polished wood and new furniture filled the air, a stark contrast to the cold elegance of the Vanderbilt estate.
Later, she met with Raphael and his new girlfriend, Brigitte, who had moved into the apartment across from hers.
Back inside, feeling restless, Ava scrolled through her phone’s gallery and stumbled upon a candid shot of Alexander. The lighting had been perfect—moody, atmospheric.
For an artist, inspiration sometimes came from the most inconvenient places.
Ava grabbed her charcoal and sketchpad, quickly translating the image onto paper in sharp, fluid strokes. She only used black and white, capturing the stark contrast of shadows against his angular features. The result was hauntingly elegant—Alexander, a noble figure against the darkness.
Satisfied, she placed the painting near the floor-to-ceiling window to dry.
Just as she was about to order supper, Brigitte knocked on her door, holding a homemade meal.
"Ava, I made this for you. I know you’re busy and often skip meals. You might get a stomachache. Try it?"
Brigitte was well-intentioned, though a little too trusting.
While Ava tended to Rex, Brigitte noticed the painting and snapped a photo, intrigued by Ava’s talent. She quickly texted Raphael.
> Raphael, you were right! Ava is really talented—not just in interior design but in portrait art too!
Raphael, seeing the photo, raised an eyebrow. Without hesitation, he forwarded it to Alexander.
---Meanwhile, Alexander was riding in his car when he received the forwarded message.
The moment he saw the sketch, he recognized the composition. Not only had she taken his picture, but she had also drawn him.
Raphael’s text followed:
> Cousin, I’ve been meaning to ask—why does Ava bring you soup and now secretly draw you? Does her husband know?
A flicker of irritation crossed Alexander’s face. Without responding, he locked his phone.
At that moment, Ava had no idea her sketch had already made its way to him.
---Later that evening, Ava left her house for a studio meeting when someone knocked on her car window.
Patty.
Ava hesitated. She didn’t like Patty—she was selfish, cutting with her words, and prone to drama. Still, refusing her now would create unnecessary tension at the studio.
With an internal sigh, she unlocked the door.
Patty slid in, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Thanks, esteemed designer."Ava ignored the remark.
As they merged into traffic, Patty suddenly brought up Mr. Thompson’s scandal.
"His wife made my situation public. You worked with him for three years—you must have known her, right?"
Ava gripped the steering wheel, refusing to engage.
Patty, however, wasn’t done. "That night—you led me to say those things. His wife caught us, and I became a joke!"
Ava let out a humorless laugh.
"Did I force you to pursue Mr. Thompson?"Actions had consequences. If Patty had chosen to be a mistress, she should have been prepared for the fallout.
Patty’s face twisted with rage. "And what makes you any better?! That night, I was with Mr. Thompson, and you—"
Her voice turned cruel.
"You could barely walk after being passed around. Who are you to judge me?"Ava’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. She had barely survived that night, and now this woman was twisting the truth?
Her patience snapped. "I’ll pull over. You can walk the rest of the way."
Before she could, Patty grabbed the wheel.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Ava shouted.
The car veered sharply, tires screeching.
A split second later—
"Bang!"
The impact was brutal. Both airbags deployed, smoke curling from the engine.
Patty screamed hysterically beside her.
Dazed, Ava pushed open the door, her heart pounding.
Then she saw the other car.
Her breath caught.
Diana.
Ava’s stomach dropped as she sprinted over. The driver was slumped over, unconscious. Diana’s forehead was bleeding, her expression dazed.
"Mrs. Richardson, are you okay?"
Diana blinked in confusion. She rubbed her temple, then frowned when she recognized Ava.
"Ava... are you hurt?"
Ava felt a pang of guilt. Diana had been nothing but kind to her.
"I’m fine. I’m so sorry—I’m calling 911 now."
The police arrived within minutes, securing the area as paramedics attended to Diana and her driver.
Meanwhile, Ava turned to Patty, her anger cold and sharp.
"You’re going to explain to them exactly what happened."
Patty had gone pale, realizing the severity of the situation. The car she had hit wasn’t just any car—it belonged to a woman of influence.
Traffic officers approached, taking statements. Ava recounted the incident, emphasizing how Patty had grabbed the wheel. The dashcam footage would confirm it.
Meanwhile, Diana was taken to the hospital for observation.
Ava, as the driver, was immediately detained by the police. Diana, despite her dizziness, wanted to intervene on Ava’s behalf. However, before she could say anything, Ava spoke first.
"Mrs. Richardson, the ambulance will be here soon. You should go to the hospital first. I’ll personally come to apologize later. I have something to handle here."
Even in the chaos, Ava’s voice remained steady. She wasn’t the type to deflect responsibility.
Her gaze shifted toward Patty, who stood frozen, her face pale and hands trembling. What had started as a petty attempt at revenge had spiraled into a nightmare. Patty had never meant for them to actually crash into a car worth ten million dollars.
But Ava had fought back, yanking the wheel in the struggle, and in that split second of panic, the car had swerved into the wrong lane.
The moment she realized the gravity of what she had done, Patty felt sick.
Ava turned back to the police, recounting every detail of what happened, emphasizing the dashcam footage that would confirm Patty’s reckless act.
As soon as the officers saw the luxury vehicle belonging to a woman of Diana Richardson’s stature, they straightened their backs. This wasn’t just an ordinary fender bender.
It was clear Ava hadn’t been solely at fault, but the police couldn’t afford to be careless. To ensure proper investigation, they decided to take both Ava and Patty to the station.
---At the Police Station
Ava felt exhausted. Hospitals. Police stations. It felt like she had been bouncing between them endlessly these past few weeks.
Next to her, Patty’s nerves were fraying. The reality of the situation had sunk in, and now she was trying to shift blame.
"This isn’t my fault, Ava," she muttered, her voice edging toward hysteria.
Ava didn’t react. She had no patience for people who refused to take responsibility.
"I was just a passenger," Patty pressed, as if saying it enough times would make it true. "You were the one driving. If they demand compensation, they’ll come for you."
Ava exhaled, trying to ignore her.
"You’re really unlucky, you know," Patty continued, her voice a mix of panic and malice. "That woman we hit—she’s powerful. You’re done for."
Ava didn’t flinch. She knew exactly who she had hit. And Diana… Diana was kind.
Unlike Patty, Ava wasn’t a coward.
She finished giving her statement, taking responsibility for her part, but making it clear that Patty had grabbed the wheel.
Patty, realizing the police weren’t going to let her walk away without consequences, started spiraling.
"Ava, you’re being too much! This whole thing is your fault!" she shouted as Ava walked toward the exit.
Before she could follow, an officer blocked her path.
"We need to take your separate statement," he said coolly.
Patty stiffened. Diana Richardson had been injured. Whether or not the damage was serious, the law wouldn’t treat this lightly.
---Meanwhile, at the Richardson Residence
Raphael had been lounging in bed with Brigitte when his mother’s number flashed on his screen.
He frowned. Diana rarely called him so late.
Pushing Brigitte off his chest, he answered.
But the voice on the other end wasn’t his mother.
"Young Master, it's Madam’s driver."
Raphael sat up immediately, alert. "What happened?"
"There was an accident," the driver explained. "A car hit us. Madam has a mild concussion and a head injury, but nothing serious. She’s being kept at the hospital for observation."
Raphael’s grip on the phone tightened.
"And the other driver?"
The driver hesitated. "It was your girlfriend’s car."
Raphael froze.
Ava?
"Madam didn’t plan on telling you," the driver continued, "but she asked me to call so you could check on her."
Raphael frowned. His mother was injured, yet she wanted him to check on Ava?
Why?
Then he remembered—Diana had always liked Ava. The last few times they had met, Ava had been in rough shape. His mother must have felt sorry for her.
Still, the accident had been Ava’s fault.
Raphael hesitated for a moment before calling her.
The line connected almost immediately, but instead of a greeting, there was a harsh cough.
"Ava? Are you okay?"
"Mr. Richardson," Ava’s voice was hoarse, strained. "I’ll be right there—"
She started coughing again.
Raphael’s frown deepened. "Are you sick?"
"It’s nothing. Just a little under the weather."
"Don’t force yourself," he said firmly. "You don’t sound like you should be driving. I’ll send someone—"
"No need—" Another cough cut her off.
Raphael wasn’t having it.
"My cousin is nearby," he said. "You’re right in between the Vanderbilt family estate and the hospital. I’ll have him pick you up."
Ava’s chest tightened. His cousin?
"Raphael, that’s really not nec—"
But he had already hung up.
Ava groaned, her fever making her limbs heavy and sluggish.
Her mind swirled with exhaustion, and now, on top of everything, Alexander was coming to pick her up.
---Ava anxiously redialed Raphael’s number, but all she heard was the monotonous voice of the automated system: “The number you are trying to reach is currently busy.”
Her heart sank. Raphael had already called Alexander.
At that moment, Alexander was on his way to the hospital, having just ended a call with Raphael.
Raphael had rambled about several things before ending with a sentence that lodged itself in Alexander’s mind.
"Xander, she at least drew a picture of you."
Alexander stared at the cityscape outside the window. The sky had darkened, and the streetlights flickered to life, casting golden halos along the pavement.
It reminded him of the painting.
A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
She really did have talent.
Jonathan pulled the car into a stop at the address Raphael had given. This neighborhood wasn’t cheap.
Alexander’s gaze flicked toward the entrance of the apartment building. So, she had moved here.
Ava, already standing outside, had been waiting ten minutes early. She didn’t want to make him wait.
But the moment she stepped forward, the world tilted.
The hot bath she had taken earlier had made her drowsy, and now, with her fever worsening, everything felt disoriented.
By the time Alexander’s car stopped in front of her, she barely had the strength to reach for the door handle.
The leather seat felt blissfully cool against her burning skin.
"Mr. Vanderbilt, thank you," she murmured.
Her voice was hoarse—weak.
Alexander frowned. "Are you sick?"
His sharp gaze studied her pale face, the unnatural flush on her cheeks, and the damp strands of hair clinging to her forehead.
Ava leaned back against the seat, closing her eyes.
"Yeah," she admitted softly. "I think I have a fever. I'm sorry about Mrs. Richardson’s accident. The police will finalize everything soon."
Her body felt unbearably hot. She was practically melting.
She should have stopped somewhere to buy a gift for Diana—it was only proper etiquette. But this was Alexander’s car, and she couldn’t possibly ask him to wait for her while she shopped for something.
She would have to make it up later.
The atmosphere in the car was quiet.
Jonathan honked a few times, but the traffic was at a complete standstill.
Rush hour.
Ava felt her body swaying, her head spinning. The heat pressed in on her from all sides, making her breath shallow.
Alexander sat beside her, silent but aware. He could sense the tension in her body.
The air inside the car was thick—almost suffocating.
"Ava?"
His voice cut through the haze.
He was about to say something else when his phone vibrated.
Diana’s name flashed across the screen.
He answered.
"Alexander, Raphael told me Ava isn’t feeling well. Don't bring her to the hospital. Let her rest instead," Diana said, her voice gentle yet firm.
Alexander’s lips pressed into a thin line. He wasn’t the type to take unnecessary detours.
Before he could reply, something warm collapsed against his shoulder.
His entire body stiffened.
Ava had slumped against him, her cheek pressing against the crisp fabric of his dress shirt.
The heat of her fever seeped through, burning against his skin.
Her shallow breaths brushed against the side of his neck, each exhale igniting something unfamiliar deep in his gut.
Alexander’s grip on his phone tightened.
Diana’s voice continued in his ear, but he wasn’t listening anymore.
After a moment, he ended the call.
Then, in a clipped voice, he spoke.
"Jonathan, is the traffic clearing?"
"Sir, it’s still heavily congested. It’ll take a while to get through."
Alexander exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching.
"Turn around."
Jonathan hesitated for a split second but complied without question. At the next intersection, the car made a U-turn.
Ava stirred slightly but didn’t wake. She was too exhausted to process what was happening.
When the car pulled into her neighborhood, Alexander opened the door and nudged her lightly.
"Ava," he called.
She barely reacted.
"Mr. Vanderbilt, are we here?" she murmured, her voice disoriented.
She tried to move but her legs buckled instantly.
Before she could hit the pavement, a strong arm caught her.
Alexander’s frown deepened as he pulled her back up.
The force of it made her body crash against his.
For a brief moment, their proximity was too close—too intimate.
Ava’s fevered skin burned through his shirt, and the scent of her shampoo—faint and familiar—filled his senses.
Jonathan, who had stepped out of the car to help, paused mid-step.
He immediately turned around and got back into the car, pretending not to have seen anything.
Ava’s head was spinning. She blinked up at Alexander, struggling to steady herself.
"I…" she started, but her voice trailed off.
"Don't move," Alexander ordered coldly.
A beat of silence.
"This is your neighborhood," he continued. "You have a fever. Call your husband to come pick you up."
Ava froze.
Her fingers curled slightly.
She should have expected this. Of course, he would say something like that.
Ava was burning up, her fever making her dizzy, but she still wanted to go to the hospital to apologize to Diana.She tried to lift her head, her vision swimming, but Alexander’s words barely registered. Her body felt too heavy, her thoughts sluggish. All she could do was nod faintly.Alexander assumed she had understood him. Without hesitation, he guided her toward a nearby bench."Wait here. He should come pick you up," he instructed, his tone detached.He had done more than enough.The idea of being entangled in Ava’s mess again made him uncomfortable. Nothing good ever seemed to happen when he was around her.Ava sat quietly, too weak to protest. She looked fragile and obedient in her feverish state, her usual sharpness dulled by exhaustion.People passed by, glancing at her briefly before moving on. No one stopped to ask if she needed help.Alexander had already turned back toward his car, reaching for the door handle, when a sharp voice cut through the air."You little slut! I f
Dear Gentle Readers, At last this chapter will tie up the loose end about Ava being Raphael’s girlfriend...Please do enjoy. Grazie mille. Yours,Ethan***Brigitte arrived in the morning, carrying a small insulated container. Seeing that Ava’s complexion had improved slightly, she let out a relieved sigh."You had a high fever last night," Brigitte said as she set the container on the table. "This is the porridge I made this morning. You should have some."Ava, touched by her kindness, nodded and took the bowl. Brigitte, however, subtly glanced around the apartment, curiosity flickering in her eyes.Last night, she had mentioned to Mr. Vanderbilt that Ava’s husband was always out early and returned late. Yet, in all the time she had lived across the hall, she had never once seen the man."Ava, is your husband really that busy?" Brigitte asked, her tone casual but probing. "You had such a high fever last night, and he didn’t come to take care of you."Ava's grip on the spoon tightene
Ava arranged to meet Rachel at a café. As they settled in, Rachel casually mentioned that she and Tom had gotten back together, claiming it was all just a misunderstanding. Ava knew how much Rachel loved Tom, so she bit her tongue and didn’t say anything.Instead, she got straight to the point. "Rachel, help me find someone to temporarily play the role of my husband."Rachel, who had just taken a sip of her coffee, nearly choked. "Cough, cough, cough—" She struggled for a moment, then stared at Ava in disbelief. "Alexander still doesn’t know your identity?"Ava shook her head, cupping her coffee mug with both hands.In her mind, Alexander was her boss—her benefactor. That was how she viewed him. But there was no denying the lingering memories of that night, the way his presence had consumed her. Beyond the physical intensity that left its mark, there was that thirty-second kiss—brief yet unforgettable, like a slow-burning ember she couldn’t fully extinguish.She had pushed those thoug
Ava arranged to meet Rachel at a café. As they settled in, Rachel casually mentioned that she and Tom had gotten back together, claiming it was all just a misunderstanding. Ava knew how much Rachel loved Tom, so she bit her tongue and didn’t say anything.Instead, she got straight to the point. "Rachel, help me find someone to temporarily play the role of my husband."Rachel, who had just taken a sip of her coffee, nearly choked. "Cough, cough, cough—" She struggled for a moment, then stared at Ava in disbelief. "Alexander still doesn’t know your identity?"Ava shook her head, cupping her coffee mug with both hands.In her mind, Alexander was her boss—her benefactor. That was how she viewed him. But there was no denying the lingering memories of that night, the way his presence had consumed her. Beyond the physical intensity that left its mark, there was that thirty-second kiss—brief yet unforgettable, like a slow-burning ember she couldn’t fully extinguish.She had pushed those though
(In this chapter, Ava will only be referred to as Serena Morales when the context is about Alexander’s wife otherwise she will be referred as “Ava/Miss Alvarez”, the designer)---Ava jolted back to reality, her heart racing. She quickly straightened up, putting distance between them.Alexander, still leaning against the couch, remained still, eyes closed, as if nothing had happened.Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was exhaustion—but for a brief moment, she wondered if he had even been awake.Her cheeks burned.Hurriedly, she pulled the blanket over him, barely taking a breath before making her escape.The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Alexander’s eyes flickered open. He glanced upward, a shadow of confusion in his gaze. But almost as quickly, he shut them again, dismissing the moment as a drunken dream.Outside the hotel, the cool night breeze helped Ava collect herself.Her fingers brushed over her lips.The first time had been during that ridiculous truth-or-dare game—
Ava hesitated for a moment before picking up the medicine box. She had no choice but to go through with this. “Mr. Vanderbilt, where are you injured?”The scent of blood in the air suddenly made sense—his old wound must have reopened. But Alexander said nothing. Instead, after a moment of silence, he slowly turned his back and shrugged off his jacket.Ava’s breath caught in her throat.The deep, crisscrossing wounds covering his back were brutal—angry red gashes that hadn’t yet begun to heal. Her hands trembled, and the medicine box slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter.“Mr. Vanderbilt, what happened to you?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.Alexander didn’t respond, but through the mirror in front of him, he could see her expression—genuine shock, her pupils quivering with worry. For some reason, that look unsettled him.Ava quickly bent down, grabbing the medicine box with shaky hands. The fabric of his shirt
The next morning, Ava awoke to find Alexander already seated on the opposite sofa. His posture was composed, his face unreadable as he scanned through a stack of documents.She quickly rubbed her eyes, straightening up. The air between them was oddly quiet. She stole a glance at the clock on the wall.Six o’clock.Even on a day off, he was up this early?"Mr. Vanderbilt?" Her voice was still laced with sleep, soft and uncertain.Alexander didn’t look up, merely responding with a low grunt as he neatly folded a document.Realizing she should freshen up, Ava hurried to the bathroom. When she emerged, she hesitated before asking, "Mr. Vanderbilt, would you like some breakfast? I can bring something up for you. Also, your back injury—should we go to the hospital today?"Alexander flipped another page, his tone indifferent. "Whatever’s fine."Taking that as permission, Ava grabbed her coat and headed downstairs to fetch breakfast. ---The hotel's breakfast buffet was already bustling, but
Dear Gentle Readers, Please enjoy... Soon Alexander’s proposal to Ava will come! Grazie mille. Yours, E. C.--- Back at the Upper West Side, Ava allowed herself a moment of rest before her phone rang. It was a call from one of her former business partners—the same one who had recently canceled their order. This time, however, they were calling to reinstate it.She exhaled in relief, pressing her fingers against her temples to soothe her lingering tension. At least things were looking up on that front.But as she leaned back against the couch, her thoughts drifted to Alexander’s injuries. The scars on his back had been brutal, and while she knew Mr. Vanderbilt Sr. was strict, punishing Alexander without investigating the truth was harsh.More than anything, she understood the underlying reason for Alexander's tolerance toward this marriage—it wasn’t for love or companionship. It was for his grandfather.As the clock neared seven, Ava debated calling the old man to speak on Alexander’
"Ava..." Rita expected her cousin to be upset, maybe even furious, but Ava's expression was unexpectedly calm—relieved, even."Rita, thank you, but I can ride with someone else. Mr. Vanderbilt is not in a good mood today, so I'd rather not make him angrier," Ava said, her voice light yet decisive.Rita frowned, puzzled. Why was Alexander in a bad mood? And why did Ava sound as though she had expected it? These two didn’t look like a couple who had spent the night together—if anything, they seemed even more distant than before.Meanwhile, across the venue, Alexander approached Hugo’s table with long, measured strides, his expression stormy. His suit, tailored to perfection, couldn't mask the tension in his shoulders or the sharp, unreadable look in his dark eyes.Victoria, however, didn't follow. She had veered off to chat with other socialites, her posture poised as if she had already won some silent battle.Hugo, who had been lazily swirling the whiskey in his glass, looked up with a
The crowd that had been eagerly watching the drama slowly dispersed, the tension in the air fading like a dissipating storm. To put on a show of sisterly affection, Victoria personally escorted Michelle to the car, ensuring that all eyes saw her as the graceful and understanding older cousin.Ava, however, remained rooted in place, her body instinctively tensing as Alexander approached. She wasn’t sure why, but she had an urge to step back. Yet, she forced herself to stand her ground, lifting her gaze to meet his. He loomed over her, his dark eyes locked onto hers as if searching for something.Her expression, however, was unreadable—calm, indifferent, as if last night's intimacy had been nothing more than a passing dream."Ava," he murmured, his voice low. There was something he wanted to say.Before he could continue, Victoria returned, her tone carefully measured, yet laced with subtle authority.“Xander, breakfast is ready downstairs. You guys probably haven't eaten yet. Let’s all
Alexander was not alone. Hugo Beaumont and Colton Valcrosse stood on either side of him, their towering presences only adding to the weight of his arrival. The air was thick with tension, an unspoken shift settling over the gathered crowd.Michelle, still sitting on the ground, felt her stomach drop the moment she caught sight of Alexander. Humiliation burned through her veins. Of all people to witness her in this pitiful state, it had to be him, the person she had a crush on. Could anything be worse?Alexander’s gaze swept over the scene, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. "What’s going on?" His voice was calm, detached—so effortlessly composed that it was hard to believe he had been a man consumed by raw passion just the night before.Victoria wasted no time approaching him, her heels clicking against the polished floor with urgency. "Last night, a bodyguard mistakenly drank the wrong drink and harmed Michelle," she explained, her voice carrying just the right balance of concern and
- please read to the very end of the chapter - Ava woke to the cold touch of the hardwood floor against her skin. Her nightgown felt strangely loose, slipping slightly off her shoulder as she groggily pushed herself up. A dull ache radiated from her waist, making her wince as she realized her lower body was sprawled on the floor while her legs still rested on the bed.Had she fallen off in the middle of the night?She rubbed her temples, feeling weak and disoriented. The last thing she clearly remembered was taking a drink from Alexei. After that, everything was a blur—just a deep thirst and the vague sensation of searching for water. Her mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but nothing came.Ava exhaled in relief. At least she hadn’t embarrassed herself in front of anyone. She must have somehow returned to her room early. However, a new problem presented itself—she hadn’t brought any extra clothes, and the silky sleepwear Rita had given her wasn’t appropriate for stepping outside.Jus
Ava clung to Alexander’s waist, her movements hesitant, unsure of how to respond. The only thing she could manage was wrapping her arms around his neck."It tickles," she murmured, her voice breathy.His hot breath fanned against her skin, seeping through the thin fabric of her dress, igniting a sensation that sent shivers down her spine.Alexander, already on edge from her teasing, tightened his grip on her waist. His voice dropped, husky and deep."So, what should I do to relieve your itch?" He had never imagined himself uttering such flirtatious words, but with Ava, they came naturally.She buried her face into the crook of his neck, her lips brushing against his skin. "Husband, you’re really good... it feels so good."Downstairs, the night was alive with murmurs of conversation and footsteps, but none of it mattered. Alexander held Ava closer, shielding her from the world as if nothing else existed beyond them.Ava whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the moment, but before she could
The pool area buzzed with activity. Waiters weaved through the guests, offering a selection of drinks, fresh fruit, and delicate pastries to those lounging or swimming. Amid the chatter and clinking of glasses, a waiter approached Ava with a light blue cocktail, placing it on the table in front of her.Alexei leaned in, his voice laced with amusement. "Drink it," he said, watching her reaction carefully.Ava ignored him, keeping her gaze steady on the water.Alexei smirked and moved even closer, his breath warm against her ear. "What’s wrong? Do you want me to feed you? Mouth to mouth, perhaps?"Knowing Alexei, he was more than capable of following through on that threat. Without another word, she grabbed the glass and downed the drink in one go. The alcohol burned on the way down, making her cough.Alexei reached out instinctively to pat her back, but she pushed him away."Mr. Volkov, Farah likes you," Ava said flatly. "Even if you help me
Rita led Ava through the vast grounds, passing from the lively seafood section to the entertainment areas. The sprawling estate was designed for indulgence, featuring everything from Olympic-sized swimming pools to high-adrenaline bungee jumps and a state-of-the-art shooting range. The event was in full swing, with guests scattered in various spots, enjoying their freedom to partake in whatever entertainment suited them.By the time they reached the grand dessert display—a magnificent ten-meter-long spread of exquisitely crafted pastries—chefs had already begun preparing fresh seafood under glass enclosures, while clusters of socialites chatted over cocktails nearby.“Farah hosts these gatherings every year, though never on a fixed schedule,” Rita explained as they approached the desserts. “It could be spring, summer, or fall. The chefs she brings in have all worked for the Vanderbilt family before. Michelin-starred talents—worth more than some pro athletes. The food is exceptional.”
As Ava finished helping Rita with her painting, she glanced over and saw Rita on the phone, her voice light and cheerful. Only then did Ava realize that Rita’s driver had already left.Rita returned with a bright smile. “Ava, do you have any plans for tonight or tomorrow morning?”Ava thought for a moment. Her father was still unconscious, and the construction in Manhattan was progressing smoothly. Aside from picking up Rex tomorrow afternoon, she had nothing pressing. “Not really.”Rita clapped her hands in excitement. “That’s great!”Without warning, she linked her arm with Ava’s and pulled her toward the roadside. “I absolutely must treat you to something amazing today! I guarantee you’ve never tasted anything like it before!”Ava was about to protest when she spotted a sleek black luxury car parked ahead. Her stomach twisted. She knew that car.Alexander’s car.Before she could react, Rita had already opened the door and gently nudged her inside.“Xander, I brought Ava along. You
Dear Gentle Readers, This author was denied promotion & the app actually said that this story does not perform well with only 4 readers and 2 comments thus no ads since last week... This author refuses to believe that especially when he saw at least 7 people liked & gave a thumbsup on the last free chapter. Can you please help this author by giving a thumbsup and commenting on this chapter, please? So this author has proof when consulting and reporting this to his editor tomorrow morning. As a token of gratitude for your generous help, please enjoy this chapter free of charge... Grazie mille. Yours, Ethan. P.S. this is actually 2 chapters combined into 1 therefore it is quite long, apologies for that. ---------That night, Serena slept soundly, the kind of deep, dreamless rest that felt like a rare luxury. By the time morning light filtered through her curtains, her spirits were noticeably brighter.The first thing she did upon waking was reach for her phone. A single missed call