The Fallout

Ava.

I woke up with a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like something had died in it. Groaning, I rolled over, my hand brushing against unfamiliar silk sheets.

Wait. Silk sheets?

I sat up, blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my bed. And I definitely didn't own a nightgown like the one I was currently wearing - a flimsy, barely-there scrap of lace that left little to the imagination.

What the hell had happened last night?

Fragmented memories swirled through my mind. The gala. The balcony. Alex's mouth on mine, hot and hungry and full of promises. And then... nothing. A blank space where the rest of the night should have been.

I looked down at myself, my cheeks flushing hot. I hadn't put this nightgown on myself, which meant... oh God. Had Alex undressed me? Had he seen me, touched me, while I was passed out drunk?

The thought made my stomach churn with a mixture of embarrassment and something else, something darker and more dangerous. I cursed under my breath, cursed him. What a fucking pervert.

But even as the words left my mouth, I couldn't help but wonder... what exactly had he done? Had his hands lingered on my skin as he peeled off my dress? Had he let his eyes roam over my body, taking in every curve and hollow? Had he-

My phone chimed on the nightstand, jolting me out of my spiraling thoughts. I grabbed it, my stomach sinking as I saw the notifications flooding the screen.

Texts from my publicist, my assistant, my father. Missed calls from numbers I didn't recognize. And then I saw them.

The photos.

Me and Alex, locked in a passionate embrace on the balcony. His hands on my ass, my fingers tangled in his hair. Our mouths fused together like we were trying to devour each other whole.

The headlines screamed up at me: "Billion-Dollar Makeout!" "Alex Russo Caught Cheating with Mystery Woman!" "Who Is Ava Silver? 5 Things to Know About Alex Russo's New Fiancée!"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

I stumbled out of bed, ignoring the way the room spun around me. I needed coffee. I needed a shower. I needed to find Alex and wring his fucking neck.

I found him in the hotel suite's living room, sipping a smoothie and scrolling through his iPad like he didn't have a care in the world. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-slung suit pants that hung off his hips in a way that made my mouth go dry.

I couldn't help but stare, my eyes tracing the lines of his body. The broad expanse of his chest, dusted with light sprinklings of hair. The ridges of his abs, perfectly defined. The v-shaped cut of his hips, disappearing tantalizingly beneath the waistband of his pants.

He was like a fucking Greek god, all chiseled muscle and golden skin. The morning sun played over his shoulders, casting him in a warm, almost otherworldly glow. I watched, transfixed, as he lifted the smoothie to his lips, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

Had he been shirtless when he undressed me last night? Had I felt the heat of his skin against mine, the rasp of his chest hair on my sensitive flesh? The thought made me dizzy, made my thighs clench with a sudden, overwhelming ache.

As if sensing my gaze, Alex looked up, his eyes meeting mine across the room. For a moment, we just stared at each other, the air between us crackling with a tension that made it hard to breathe.

Then he smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips that snapped me out of my daze. I choked on my own spit, coughing and sputtering like an idiot.

"Well, good morning to you too, sunshine," he drawled, setting down his iPad. "Sleep well?"

I threw my phone at him. It bounced off his chest and clattered to the floor. "Explain."

He glanced down at the screen, then back up at me. "Explain what? The photos? I thought they turned out quite nice, actually. The lighting really accentuates your-"

"Cut the shit, Alex." I crossed my arms over my chest, my head throbbing in time with my racing heart. "Did you plan this? Did you tip off the paparazzi, tell them where to find us?"

He had the nerve to look offended. "Of course not. I was just as surprised as you were."

I barked out a laugh. "Bullshit. You forget, I know you. I know how your twisted little mind works. This is exactly the kind of stunt you'd pull."

He sat back, his jaw tightening. "Think what you want, Ava. But I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with it."

I stared at him, trying to read the truth in his eyes. But he was a closed book, his expression unreadable.

"Fine. Let's say I believe you. What the hell do we do now? This is a disaster, Alex. It's everywhere. Everyone's talking about it."

He shrugged, infuriatingly calm. "So we roll with it. We use it to our advantage."

I gaped at him. "Are you insane? How is this an advantage? I look like a homewrecking whore, and you look like a cheating scumbag!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. We're the talk of the town. The whole world is watching us, waiting to see what we'll do next. It's perfect."

I shook my head, bile rising in my throat. "No. No way. I'm done, Alex. I'm done with this whole sick charade. Find yourself another fake fiancée, because I quit."

I turned to leave, but he was out of his seat in a flash, his hand wrapping around my wrist. "Ava, wait."

I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron-clad. "Let me go, Alex."

"Not until you listen to me." His voice was low, urgent. "I guess an engagement isn't convincing enough," he muttered, almost to himself.

I blinked, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He looked up at me, his gaze intense. "It means we need to do more. Be seen more. Really sell this relationship to the public."

I scoffed. "Are you out of your mind? Alex, public opinion isn't something you can just manipulate. If we push this too far, it could backfire spectacularly."

He shook his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Or it could go entirely in our favor. Think about it, Ava. The more people see us together, the more they'll believe in our love story. The more they'll root for us."

I gaped at him, incredulous. "Root for us? Alex, this isn't some fucking fairy tale. This is real life, with real consequences. If we mess this up, we could lose everything we've worked for. Everything we've built."

He stepped closer, his hand still wrapped around my wrist. "But what if we don't mess it up? What if we pull this off, and come out the other side stronger than ever?"

I stared at him, my heart pounding. "And what does that look like to you, Alex? What does 'coming out the other side' mean?"

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his eyes searching mine. And then he said the last thing I ever expected to hear from him.

"It means we'd be unstoppable, Ava. You and me, together. Not just in business, but in everything."

I blinked, my mouth falling open. "What... what are you saying, Alex?"

He smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. "I'm saying, what if we made this real? What if we gave the people what they want, and ended up getting what we want in the process?"

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of confusion and disbelief. "And what is it that you want, Alex?"

His eyes glittered with a heat that made my stomach flip. "I want to win, Ava. I want to come out on top. And I want to do it with you by my side."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. This was insane. He was insane. But some small, traitorous part of me couldn't help but wonder... what if he was right? What if we could turn this scandal into the opportunity of a lifetime?

The rational part of my brain screamed at me to run, to get as far away from Alex Russo and his crazy schemes as possible. But the other part, the part that craved success and power and the thrill of the game... that part wanted to see just how far we could take this.

God help me, but I was intrigued. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit tempted.

"Alright, Alex," I said slowly, my heart thundering in my chest. "I'm listening. What exactly did you have in mind?"

His grin widened, his eyes sparking with a mischief that set my nerves on fire. "Oh, Ava. You have no idea what you're in for."

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. The way he was looking at me, the heat in his gaze... it made me want things I had no business wanting. Made me imagine scenarios that were definitely not part of our business arrangement.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of lust and confusion. "I have to go," I said abruptly, taking a step back. "I need to get home to Emilia. She won't go to school if she doesn't see me first."

Something flickered in Alex's eyes, too quick for me to read. "Oh," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "At least someone is waiting for you."

I bristled, annoyance flaring through me. What the hell was that supposed to mean? For a second, I almost felt sorry for him, wondering what kind of lonely, loveless life he must lead. But then he smirked, that same old cocky, arrogant expression I knew so well, and any pity I had vanished in an instant.

I spun on my heel, storming off towards the bedroom. I needed to get out of here, needed to put some distance between myself and Alex fucking Russo before I did something I'd regret.

But he followed me, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. "Ava, wait. You can't go home like this. You're still hungover. Let me drive you."

I stopped short, my hand clenching around the doorknob. The thought of being in a car with him, of having him in my space, in my life... it was too much. Too tempting.

I glanced down at myself, at the flimsy nightgown that clung to my every curve. A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over me as I remembered how I'd woken up, how he must have undressed me, touched me, while I was passed out. The questions burned on my tongue - what had he done, how far had he gone? - but I swallowed them back. Knowing Alex, he'd only use them against me, twist them into some kind of sick game.

I let out a frustrated sigh, yanking open the door. But in my haste, my foot caught on the threshold, and suddenly I was falling, pitching forward into empty air. My heart lodged in my throat as I braced for impact, my arms flying out to catch myself. I could feel my tits bouncing freely beneath the thin lace, and a horrified realization crashed over me.

The bastard had taken off my bra, too.

Before I could face-plant into the carpet, a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, hauling me back against a solid chest. I looked up, my breath catching in my throat as I met Alex's glacial gaze. The intensity in his eyes made me shiver, made my nipples harden and goosebumps erupt across my skin. I felt exposed, vulnerable, like he could see straight through me to the shameful, secret desires I kept hidden deep inside.

For a long, charged moment, we just stared at each other, our faces inches apart. I could feel the heat of his body seeping into mine, could smell the spicy, masculine scent of his cologne. A reckless part of me wanted to close the distance between us, to grind against him, to lose myself in the fire I knew would consume us both.

But then he smiled, that same infuriating, cocky sneer, and the spell was broken. I pushed against his chest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held me fast, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my waist. I could feel my pussy clench, aching with a need I didn't want to acknowledge.

"I told you," he said, his voice low and rough. "You can't walk on your own. I'm taking you home, Ava. End of discussion."

I glared at him, hating the way my body responded to his touch, to the command in his tone. He was a stubborn, pigheaded ass, and the worst part was, he knew it. Knew the effect he had on me, and reveled in it. If only he looked as much as a goat, as he was stubborn, it would have been much easier to hate him.

But as much as I wanted to argue, to fight him every step of the way, I knew it was pointless. Alex Russo always got what he wanted, one way or another.

And right now, apparently, what he wanted was me.

God help us both.

***