I was on the verge of unbuckling his belt when he pulled away so forcefully I stumbled forward, disoriented by the sudden loss of contact. My core throbbed, my nipples could cut diamonds, and my skin was so sensitive even the brush of air caused me to tremble. But when the fog of sensation dissipated, I realized Alex was glaring at me. “Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his scowl fierce enough to make grown men quake. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Alex—” “No. What the hell were you thinking?” he bit out. “Did you think we would fuck in the kitchen while your friends are in the other room?” Heat scorched my cheeks. “If this is about Josh—” “It’s not about Josh.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a slow, controlled breath. “Not entirely.” “Then what is it?” He wanted me. I knew he did; I felt it, and I’m not just talking about the massive bulge straining his pants. Yes, Josh would attempt to murder us both if he found out what happened, but he couldn’t stay mad at us forever. Besides, he didn’t return to D.C. until Christmas. We had time. “It’s me. And you. Together. It won’t work.” Alex’s glare intensified. “Whatever fantasies you have of us swirling in that pretty head of yours, kill them. That kiss was a one-time mistake. It’ll never happen again.”
View MoreAva Pov:“I kicked your ass.”“You did not kick my ass,” Ralph grumbled. “You got lucky with that last punch.”“It’s all right.” Alex adjusted his shirt sleeves, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and amusement. “Every student eventually becomes the teacher.”“Boy, I’ll knock you upside the head if you don’t stop talking nonsense.” Despite his gruff words, Ralph was smiling.“What did I say about arguing at the table?” Ralph’s wife, Missy, raised her eyebrows. “Stop quibbling so we can all enjoy dinner.”I hid a smile when Alex and Ralph muttered under their breaths but complied.“What was that?” Her brows rose higher.“Nothing,” they chorused.“Teach me your ways,” I whispered to Missy while the guys busied themselves with the roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes. “How do you do it?”She laughed. “When you’ve been married for thirty-plus years, you learn a few things. Besides…” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Judging by the way Alex looks at you, I don’t think you have
Ava Pov:The fellowship ended with a grand exhibition attended by the movers and shakers of London’s art world. The exhibition took place in Shoreditch, and every fellow had their own section in the pop-up gallery.It was exhilarating, nerve-wracking, and utterly surreal.I stared at my little slice of heaven and the people passing through it, dressed to the nines and examining each piece with what I hoped were admiring eyes.I’d grown by leaps and bounds as a photographer over the past year, and while I still had a lot to learn, I was damn proud of my work. I specialized in travel portraits like Diane Lange, but I put my personal spin on it. As much as I admired her, I didn’t want to be her; I wanted to be my own person, with my own vision and creative ideas.I took most of my shots in London, but the good thing about Europe was how easy it was to travel to other countries. On the weekends, I took the Eurostar to Paris or day trips to the Cotswolds. I even booked short flights to nei
Ava POV:Alex livedup to his promise-slash-threat of showing up every. Single. Day. He was there in the morning when I left for my fellowship, usually with a vanilla latte and blueberry scone—my favorites. He was there to walk me home after my workshops. Other times, especially when I was with other people or exploring the city on the weekends, he was less conspicuous, but he was there. I felt his presence even though I couldn’t see him.I never thought Alex Volkov would become my stalker, but there we were.On top of that, gifts arrived every day. By the boatload.By the end of the first week, my apartment looked like I was opening an indoor garden. I donated everything to a local hospital—the roses of every color, the vivid purple orchids and sweet white lilies, the cheerful sunflowers and delicate peonies.By the end of the second week, I owned enough jewelry to make the Duchess of Cambridge green with envy—at least, until I pawned them. The sum I received for the pile of diamond e
Ava POV:I loved London.I loved its energy, the posh accents, and the anticipation that I might sight one of the royals any day. I didn’t, but I could, though I reassured Bridget she’d always be my favorite royal. Most of all, I loved that it was a fresh start. No one knew me here. I could be whoever I wanted, and the creative spark I’d lost in those dark weeks after Philadelphia came rushing back.I’d been nervous, moving to a city where I had zero connections, but the rest of the WYP fellows and instructors were great. After two weeks of living in London and attending workshops, I’d already formed a small group of friends. We celebrated happy hour at pubs, went on photoshoots together on the weekends, and did touristy stuff like ride the London Eye and cruise on the Thames.I missed my friends and Josh, but we video-called often, and Bridget promised to visit me on her way back to Eldorra later this summer. Plus, all the WYP workshops and activities and the excitement of exploring
Alex POV:TWO AND A HALF MONTHS LATER“You look like shit.” Ralph sank into the chair opposite mine and appraised me with sharp eyes. “Haven’t ‘cha heard of a skincare routine?”I didn’t look up from the screen. “Carolina!”The door to my office opened, and my assistant poked her head in. “Yes, Mr. Volkov?”“How the fuck did he get in here?” I gestured at Ralph.“He’s on your approved list of visitors who don’t need appointments.”“Remove him from the list.”“Yes, sir.” Carolina hesitated. “Do you—”“You can leave.”She fled without a second thought. I didn’t blame her. I’d been in a foul mood for months, and she’d learned it was best to stay out of sight.Ralph arched his eyebrows. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”“Don’t you have a business to run?” I clicked out of the spreadsheet I’d been examining and leaned back, irritation coiling in my stomach. I didn’t have time for bullshit today. I barely had time for lunch.Ever since I took over as CEO of Archer Group, the company’s stocks had s
Ava pov:TWO MONTHS LATERBridget convinced Rhys not to tell the palace what happened in Philadelphia. I didn’t know how, because Rhys was such a stickler for the rules—even if telling the truth meant getting himself in trouble, since Bridget had been kidnapped on his watch—but she did.The press also never picked up on the real story. Other than a small item about an “accidental house fire that resulted in the death of former Archer Group CEO Ivan Volkov,” it was like the worst six hours of my life hadn’t happened.I suspected Alex had a hand in both the fire and the lack of media coverage, but I tried not to think of him these days.Once or twice, I succeeded.“I brought cake.” Jules slid a red velvet cupcake in my direction. “Your fave.” Her face glowed with hope as she waited for my response.My friends tried their best to put on happy faces around me, but I heard their whispers and saw their sidelong glances—they were worried. Really worried. So was Josh, who quit his volunteer
ALEX POV:Josh’s fist slammed into my face, and I heard an ominous crack before I stumbled back. Blood dripped from my nose and lip, and judging by the pain radiating from the right side of my face, I was going to wake up with one hell of a shiner tomorrow.Still, I made no move to defend myself while Josh pummeled me. “You fucking bastard,” he hissed, his eyes wild as he kneed my stomach. I doubled over, the breath stolen from my lungs in a wet, crimson-stained gasp. “You. Motherfucking. Bastard. I trusted you!” Another punch, this time to the side of my rib. “You were my. Best. Friend!”The hits continued until I dropped to my knees, my body a mess of cuts and bruises.But I welcomed the pain. Reveled in it.It was what I deserved.“I always knew you had bad taste,” I rasped. Note to self: work from home until the injuries heal. I didn’t need the office running wild with rumors. Everyone was still whispering about my uncle’s death, which was o
ALEX POV:I watched Ava leave,my chest hollow, my eyes burning with a foreign, pent-up emotion.I wanted to run after her and snatch her out of Bridget’s arms. To fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness for the unforgivable. To keep her by my side for the rest of our days so nothing and no one could hurt her again.Except I couldn’t, because I was the one who’d hurt her. I was the one who’d lied and manipulated. I was the one who’d endangered her with my thirst for vengeance and twisted plans against my uncle.The only way to protect Ava was to let her go, even if that meant destroying myself.The car taking Ava back to Maryland and away from me disappeared from sight, and I released a shuddering breath, trying to make sense of the pain clawing at my insides. It felt like someone was ripping out pieces of my heart and soul and grinding them beneath their feet. I had never felt so acutely, so much.I hated it. I longed for the icy indifference of
AVA POV:The next hourpassed in a blur. The police and paramedics arrived, peppering me with questions and medical checkups and lots of somber-looking faces. I endured them all, my answers flat and robotic.By the time they finished, I wanted to crawl into my bed and never get out—if I could bring myself to move.“Ava?” Bridget placed a tentative hand on my arm. “The police said we can go. Rhys will drive us back.”The massive bodyguard hovered so close he was practically on top of us, his usual stoic mask replaced with pure fury.I didn’t blame him. We’d gotten ourselves into this mess.Bridget and I had wanted to see one of our favorite bands perform in D.C. last night. Cool indie bands didn’t visit the city often, and when they did, we took advantage. Except…Rhys had flat-out forbidden Bridget from going because it wasn’t safe, and instead of arguing with him—which we all knew by now was useless—Bridget snuck out in the middle of the night. Everyth
𝐀𝐕𝐀 𝐏𝐎𝐕:There were worsethings than being stranded in the middle of nowhere during a rainstorm.For example, I could be running from a rabid bear intent on mauling me into the next century. Or I could be tied to a chair in a dark basement and forced to listen to Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” on repeat until I’d rather gnaw off my arm than hear the song’s eponymous phrase again.But just because things could be worse didn’t mean they didn’t suck.Stop. Think positive thoughts.“An Uber will show up…now.” I stared at my phone, biting back my frustration when the app reassured me it was “finding my ride”, the way it had been for the past half hour.Normally, I’d be less stressed about the situation because hey, at least I had a working phone and a bus shelter to keep me mostly dry from the pounding rain. But Josh’s farewell party was starting in an hour, I had yet to pick up his surprise cake from the bakery, and it would be dark soon. I may be a glass ha...
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