When a fake marriage turns into a real romance, secrets and lies threaten to tear it apart. Can Alex and Ava overcome their past and enemies to rekindle their love, or will their second chance at happiness slip away forever?
Voir plusAvaNearly an hour later, Alex and my father finally emerged from the study, both looking relaxed and slightly flushed from the brandy. My father's eyes were bright with satisfaction, Alex's with something I couldn't quite read."There they are!" my father announced. "Been having an excellent chat, haven't we, Alex?""Absolutely," Alex agreed, his gaze finding mine across the room. "Your father is a remarkable man, Ava.""He has his moments," I acknowledged, noting the genuine warmth in Alex's voice. "But it's getting late, and it's a school night for Emilia.""Of course, of course," my father said. "But you must all come again soon. Next time I'll grill. Nothing like a man in a wheelchair handling open flames to really liven up a dinner party."
AvaThe dining room, like the rest of the house, was designed for accessibility without sacrificing aesthetics. My father wheeled up to a space at the head of the table where a chair had been removed. Alex held my chair for me, his fingers lightly brushing my shoulder as I sat—a casual touch that somehow felt startlingly intimate.Dinner was a surprisingly relaxed affair. The paella was delicious, the wine flowed freely, and conversation moved easily from business to politics to my father's latest hobby—adaptive gardening techniques he was developing for others with mobility issues."It keeps the mind active," he explained to Alex. "After the accident, I could have just retreated, let the world pass me by. But what's the point in that? There's still work to be done.""That's an ad
AvaAs we approached the front door, it swung open before we could ring the bell. My father sat in his wheelchair, his broad shoulders and commanding presence undiminished by his seated position. At sixty-five, George Silver was still an imposing figure, with salt-and-pepper hair and the same green eyes I'd inherited."There they are!" he boomed, his face splitting into a wide grin. "My girls... and the man brave enough to take on my daughter.""Dad," I warned, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Behave.""Grandpa!" Emilia darted past me, throwing herself into his lap with practiced ease. He hugged her tightly, then set her back on her feet with a theatrical grunt."Getting too big for that, peanut," he told her, though we all knew he'd never refuse
Ava"Mommy! He's here!" Emilia's voice echoed up the stairs, a mixture of alarm and fascination.Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs. Alex was standing in the foyer, looking unfairly handsome in a perfectly tailored navy suit that highlighted his broad shoulders and trim waist. He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a gift bag in the other."Ava," he said, his eyes widening slightly as I descended the stairs. "You look... incredible."Something warm unfurled in my chest at the genuine appreciation in his gaze. I tamped it down quickly, reminding myself that Alex Russo was a master of manipulation. This was all part of the act."Thank you," I said, my voice more breathless than I'd intended. "You clean up pretty
Ava."Seriously, Mom? That's what you're wearing?"I glanced down at my outfit—dark jeans paired with a simple blue blouse—then back at my daughter, who was regarding me with the kind of withering judgment only a nine-year-old could deliver."What's wrong with this?" I asked, smoothing the blouse self-consciously.Emilia rolled her eyes dramatically. "It's boring. You look like you're going to work, not dinner with Grandpa." She paused, then added with reluctant honesty, "And that guy.""That guy," I repeated, biting back a smile. "You mean Alex?""Whatever." Emilia flopped onto my bed, watching as I rummaged through my closet. "Grandpa's going to think you don't even care."I sighed, pulling out a burgundy wrap dress I hadn't worn in months. "Better?"Emilia's nose scrunched up as she considered the dress. "I guess. But you should wear the green one. The one Grandpa says makes your eyes look pretty."My heart squeezed at her concern for my father's opinion. Despite her occasional pre
AlexI turned to my computer, trying to focus on work, but my mind kept drifting. I found myself typing Ava's name into a search engine, scanning recent articles about her. Most focused on our engagement, but some highlighted her business achievements, her journey as a young widow raising a child while running a tech empire.One photo caught my eye—Ava at what appeared to be a school function, crouched down to Emilia's level, both of them laughing. There was such joy in their expressions, such genuine connection. It made something in my chest ache with a longing I couldn't quite identify.I closed the browser quickly, unsettled by my own reaction. This was getting too personal, too complicated. I needed to refocus, to remember why we'd started this charade in the first place.Business.
AlexA soft knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. My assistant poked her head in. "Your sister is here to see you."Before I could respond, Claire burst into my office, a whirlwind of energy and expensive perfume."Well, if it isn't the man of the hour," she announced, dropping dramatically into the chair across from me. "Engaged! To Ava Silver, no less. You certainly know how to keep things interesting, big brother."I couldn't help smiling at my sister's theatrical entrance. Four years younger and infinitely more sociable than me, Claire had always been the family charmer."It's not what you think," I started.She held up a perfectly manicured hand. "Save it. Mother already called me ranting abou
Alex.With a sigh, I answered. "Vivian.""Finally," her voice was tight, controlled. "I was beginning to think you'd fallen off the face of the earth.""I've been busy.""Too busy to explain those photos?" The hurt beneath her anger was palpable, even through the phone. "You told me it was just business, Alex. That kiss didn't look like business."I winced, knowing exactly which photos she meant. The balcony. Ava pressed against me, my hands on her body. It had looked real because in that moment, it had been."Vivian—""Don't 'Vivian' me," she cut in. "I believed you when you said this engagement was fake. I agreed to be patient. But what I saw in those photos wasn't acting, Alex.""It was for the cameras," I said, aware of how hollow the excuse sounded. "The media was watching. We had to make it convincing.""That convincing?" Her voice cracked slightly. "Your tongue was down her throat, Alex. Your hands were all over her. You never touch me like that in public."I closed my eyes, sh
Alex."So, gentlemen, that concludes our quarterly overview." I closed the presentation with a decisive click, surveying the boardroom. The usual suspects stared back at me – old money in expensive suits, their expressions ranging from boredom to barely concealed curiosity. I knew what they were waiting for, and it wasn't my thoughts on our Asian market expansion."Any questions?" I asked, deliberately casual.Harold Kensington, a relic from my father's era, cleared his throat. "Just one, Alex. This... engagement to Ava Silver. Is it wise?"I kept my expression neutral, though my jaw tightened. "In what way, Harold?""Strategically speaking." He adjusted his glasses, giving him time to choose his words. "Silver Innovations directly competes with us in three key markets. The board is concerned about potential conflicts of interest.""A competitor turned partner," I corrected smoothly. "Our collaboration on the clean energy initiative has already increased projected valuations by eighte
Ava. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped me as I pushed open the heavy glass door of Café Noir. At least, I think that's what I smelled. My senses were a bit dull that morning, probably from the three—or was it four?—international video calls I'd fielded before most people had even hit snooze. Being CEO of a multinational corporation meant my day started when normal people were still dreaming. Not that I'm complaining. I loved my job. Most days. "The usual, Ava?" Sarah, the barista, called over the hiss of the espresso machine. I nodded, fumbling for my wallet. "Please. And maybe an extra shot today?" Sarah laughed. "Rough morning already?" "You have no idea," I muttered, though to be honest, I wasn't entirely sure how my morning had gone. It was all a blur of spreadsheets and shareholder expectations. As I waited for my latte, I leaned against the cool marble countertop, idly scrolling through my phone. The café buzzed with the usual morning crowd – a mix of busin...
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