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?
View MoreAlex.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
AvaThe drive home was a blur full of worry and frustration. By the time I pulled into my driveway, Rosa's car was already there. I found them in the kitchen, Emilia hunched over a bowl of ice cream, her school uniform rumpled, eyes puffy from crying."Hey, peanut," I said softly, setting down my bag. "Rough day?"Emilia shrugged, not looking up. "They were asking about him.""Who?""Alex," she said, stabbing at her ice cream. "Madison saw the pictures on her mom's phone. You kissing him. She told everyone you're getting married. They all wanted to know if he's my new dad."My heart sank. "Oh, baby." I pulled her into my arms, her small body shaking with fresh tears. "I'm so sorry. That wasn't fair of
AvaAfter hanging up, I leaned back in my chair, exhaustion washing over me. The headache was getting worse, and I still had hours of damage control ahead of me.My gaze drifted to the family photo on my desk—me, James, and Emilia on her fourth birthday, just months before the accident. We looked so happy, so complete. Would we ever feel that way again? Could Emilia and I ever be whole without him?The thought of Alex Russo—arrogant, infuriating Alex—being involved in my daughter's life seemed absurd. And yet, he'd volunteered to drive her to school, bought her thoughtful gifts...I picked up the book he'd left for Emilia—a signed first edition of "Starstruck." How had he known she wanted it? The puzzle too—it was exactly the kind of complex challenge she loved. It showed an attention to detail, a consideration I wouldn't have expected from him.My phone buzzed with another text message. This time from Alex: Emilia safely delivered to school. She might have mentioned I ask "stupid que
Ava.The house felt too quiet once Alex and Emilia left. I leaned against the kitchen counter, coffee cup in hand, trying to ignore the pounding in my temples. This was not how I'd planned to start my day—hungover, exhausted, and now with Alex Russo driving my daughter to school. The fake engagement was spiraling out of control faster than I could manage."Ms. Ava, would you like me to prepare something for lunch later?" Rosa asked, appearing in the doorway with an armful of freshly folded laundry."No thanks, Rosa. I'll probably be stuck in my office all day." I forced a smile, my voice rough from last night's excesses. "I've got a PR nightmare to manage."Rosa's expression remained neutral, but I caught a flicker of something—concern, maybe—in her eyes. "I saw the photos. On the news."I winced. Of course she had. Everyone probably had by now—the kiss on the balcony, Alex's hands on my bare ass, my fingers tangled in his hair. "It's not what it looks like," I said automatically, the
The DriveThe car hummed along the road, but the silence inside was deafening. I glanced at Emilia, seated beside me, her gaze fixed straight ahead. Her fingers deftly twirled a small, triangular piece of metal, the motion so fluid and practiced it was mesmerizing. For a child her age, the skill was impressive. Unsettling, even.I cleared my throat, trying to catch her attention. But Emilia remained lost in her own world, the metal dancing between her fingers without missing a beat.I swallowed, a part of me wanting to leave her be. The silence was fine, I told myself. No childish questions, just blessed quiet. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. This Emilia was a far cry from the bubbly girl I'd met at the house. The way she stared ahead, so intense and knowing... it was almost as if she was aware of something I couldn't see."So, Emilia," I ventured, attempting to break the ice. "How's school going? You like your teachers? Your classmates?"Her responses were cl
Ava.I stood in the kitchen, watching Alex hurry towards the door with Emilia skipping ahead of him. The migraine that had been pounding at my temples mere seconds ago faded into the background, forgotten in the face of this moment.Something about the scene before me felt achingly familiar, and painful difficult to ignore. As Alex and Emilia disappeared from view, my late husband's face superimposed itself over Alex's in my mind's eye. "James," I whispered absentmindedly, the name slipping out unbidden.A heavy, shaky breath escaped me, snapping me back to reality. Suddenly, I became aware of a dampness on my cheeks. I swallowed hard, reaching up to wipe my face. I'd been crying without even realizing it."Ms. Ava?"Rosa's voice startled me. I turned to find her standing at the threshold that led to the main lodge of the house. I hadn't even heard her approach. She tilted her head, genuine concern shining in her eyes. She didn't say anything more, but her gaze held a wealth of unspok
Alex. I followed Ava and Emilia into the house, my hands tucked into my pockets. I'd done what I came here to do - brought Ava home safe and sound. But for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to leave. Maybe it was the way Emilia had looked at me, with those big, curious eyes. Or maybe it was the memory of Ava's face in the garden, so raw and vulnerable. Whatever it was, I felt like I needed to stay, just a little longer. Of course, I knew Vivian would be waiting for me when I got back to my place. She'd probably been there all night, pacing and worrying. I'd promised her this thing with Ava was just a charade, a means to an end. But after last night, after the things I'd said and done... I couldn't shake the feeling that I was betraying her, somehow. We entered the kitchen, and I took a moment to appreciate the space. It was impressive, even by my standards - all top-of-the-line appliances and custom finishes. The kind of kitchen you'd expect to find in a multimillion-dollar h
Alex. The garden was a riot of color and life, a stark contrast to the sleek, modern lines of the house. I followed the winding stone path, the sound of childish laughter and splashing water growing louder with each step. As I rounded a corner, I spotted them. Ava, kneeling by the edge of a small, ornate fountain. And Emilia, her dark curls damp and clinging to her cheeks, her little hands plunged into the water as she giggled and played. For a moment, I just watched them, something warm and unfamiliar stirring in my chest. Ava's face was soft, unguarded in a way I'd never seen before. She was smiling, her eyes crinkled at the corners as she watched her daughter play. But there was a sadness there too. Faint, but it was there, it flickered across her face when Emilia wasn't looking. It was the same sadness I'd glimpsed that day at her office, when she'd reluctantly told me about her husband. I must have made some noise, because suddenly Ava's head snapped up, her eyes locking
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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