The Morning After

Alex.

The car hummed quietly as I navigated the streets of Seattle, the early morning sun just starting to peek through the clouds. Beside me, Ava was slumped in the passenger seat, her seatbelt on but her body curled into a tight ball. She'd pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up, burying her face in the soft fabric.

I glanced over at her, my lips twitching. When I'd handed her the tracksuit back at the hotel, I'd half-expected her to ask about last night. To demand answers about how she'd ended up in that barely-there nightgown, about what had happened between us. But she'd just taken the clothes, her jaw tight, and disappeared into the bathroom to change. Maybe it was better this way. Better to leave the past in the past, to focus on the game we were playing now.

I'd offered her one of my patented hangover smoothies before we left, pressing the green concoction into her hands with a grin. She'd eyed it suspiciously, her nose wrinkling.

"Relax," I'd said, moving around the suite as I got dressed. "It's my mother's recipe. Works wonders, trust me."

She'd rolled her eyes, but taken a tentative sip. "Wow, thanks. Good to know you're not trying to kill me."

I'd just laughed, shaking my head. "Baby, if I wanted you dead, I'd find a much more creative way to do it. Nah, I need you alive and kicking."

Now, as I drove, I couldn't help but steal glances at her huddled form. She looked miserable, her face hidden beneath the hood, her body curled in on itself like she was trying to disappear.

Last night was a blur, a haze of champagne and flashbulbs and Ava's mouth on mine, hot and hungry and full of promises. I remembered stumbling into the hotel room, remembered the way she'd felt in my arms, all soft curves and smooth skin. I remembered wanting her, with a ferocity that had left me shaken.

I shifted in my seat, trying to adjust my rising bulge discreetly. Fuck. I needed to get my head on straight, to focus on the plan.

I fumbled with the stereo, needing a distraction. But as soon as I hit the power button, music blasted through the speakers, the bass thumping hard enough to rattle the windows.

Ava jerked upright, her hood falling back. She looked startled, her eyes red and bleary, her face flushed like she'd been smoking something. For a second, I was struck by how wrecked she looked, how far from her usual polished self.

"Shit, sorry," I mumbled, frantically turning the volume down. "Didn't mean to wake you."

She shot me a nasty side-eye, “Fuck you, Alex,” she groaned, then buried her head in her arms again, retreating back into her hoodie. I bit back a smile, shaking my head.

Ava Silver, hungover and pissed off, in my passenger seat. If you'd told me a month ago that this would be my life, I would have had you committed. But here we were, playing house and playing the media like a couple of seasoned cons.

It was almost enough to make me forget about Vivian. Almost.

Her face flashed through my mind, those wide blue eyes and that smile that could light up a room. My chest ached, a dull, hollow pain that I'd gotten used to ignoring. She was the reason I was doing this, the reason I was putting myself through this whole charade. For her, for our future together.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, my jaw clenching. I just needed to get through this, to play the game until we got what we wanted. Then Vivian and I could finally be together, the way we were always meant to be.

No more obstacles. No more distractions.

No more Ava fucking Silver, with her sharp tongue and her killer body and her eyes that saw right through me.

I glanced over at her again, my gaze lingering on the curve of her shoulder, the wisps of hair escaping from her hood. She was a complication I couldn't afford, a temptation I couldn't give in to.

But when had that ever stopped me before?

***

Ava's house was a sight to behold, a sprawling modern mansion nestled in the hills overlooking the city. As I pulled into the circular driveway, I let out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Nice digs, Silver. You've got good taste, I'll give you that."

Beside me, Ava stirred, pushing back her hood and blinking against the sudden brightness. She looked around, as if just realizing where we were.

"Oh. Yeah, thanks." Her voice was hoarse, scratchy from sleep and the lingering effects of the alcohol.

I watched as she fumbled with her seatbelt, her fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. She was trying to put herself together, I realized, trying to look presentable before facing her daughter. I stayed quiet, letting her have her moment.

As we approached the front door, it swung open, revealing a middle-aged woman with a kind face and a warm smile. She had to be Ava's housekeeper or nanny, I figured. Her hair was streaked with gray, but her eyes were bright and lively.

"Miss Ava, welcome home!" she said, her voice accented and musical. "And you must be Mr. Russo. It's a pleasure to meet you."

I flashed her my most charming grin, but Ava barely seemed to register her presence. "Where's Emilia?" she asked, her tone brusque.

The woman's smile faltered, just for a second. "She's in the garden, miss. She refused to go to school again, not without seeing you first."

Ava sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. She glanced at me, her expression wry. "Told you."

I shrugged, my lips twitching. "Hey, I'm not the one who decided to get wasted and sleep in."

She scowled at me, but there was no real heat behind it. With a final, frustrated huff, she turned and stalked off towards the back of the house, presumably in search of her daughter.

And then it was just me and the housekeeper, standing awkwardly in the foyer. I could feel her gaze on me, could sense her nervousness in the way she fidgeted with the hem of her apron.

I turned to face her fully, planting my hands on my hips and giving her my full attention. She was a petite thing, barely coming up to my shoulder, but there was a strength to her, a quiet dignity that I couldn't help but admire.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," I said, keeping my voice gentle.

She blinked up at me, her cheeks flushing. "It's Rosa, sir. Rosa Hernandez."

I smiled, holding out my hand. "It's nice to meet you, Rosa. Please, call me Alex."

She took my hand gingerly, as if afraid it might bite. Her skin was soft, her grip surprisingly firm. "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Russo. I mean, Alex."

I chuckled, releasing her hand and stuffing mine in my pockets. "The honor's all mine, believe me. It's not every day I get to see where the great Ava Silver hangs her hat."

Rosa ducked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Miss Ava is a very private person. She doesn't usually bring guests home."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that so? Well, I guess I should count myself lucky, then."

She glanced up at me, her dark eyes sparkling with something like mischief. "Very lucky, sir. Very lucky indeed."

I grinned, nodding towards the sweeping staircase that dominated the entryway. "What do you say, Rosa? Want to give me the grand tour while we wait for the lady of the house to grace us with her presence?"

Rosa hesitated, biting her lip. I could see the indecision playing out on her face, the warring impulses of propriety and curiosity. In the end, curiosity won out.

"Of course, sir. I mean, Alex." She gestured for me to follow, leading me deeper into the house. "Right this way."

As we walked, I couldn't help but marvel at the opulence of Ava's home. The floors were a gleaming hardwood, the walls adorned with tasteful art and sleek, modern fixtures. It was a far cry from the cluttered, homey chaos of my own childhood home, but there was a beauty to it, a sense of order and control that I found strangely appealing.

Kind of like Ava herself, I mused. All sharp edges and cool perfection on the outside, but with hidden depths that I was just starting to glimpse.

***