Ava never imagined the night would end this way.
The city's lights blurred through the tinted windows of Damian's sleek black car as it sped through quiet streets. She sat in rigid silence, her mind a storm of regret, panic, and something far more dangerous — temptation.
Damian hadn't said a word since they left the terrace bar. He didn't need to. The thick, unspoken current between them hummed louder than any conversation could.
Ava glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He looked composed, as if nothing had happened. As if spiriting a married woman away in the dead of night was just another item on his agenda.
She finally found her voice. "Where are you taking me?"
His gaze remained fixed on the road ahead. "Somewhere safe."
"I don't need rescuing," she snapped, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Damian let out a humorless chuckle. "You're shaking like a leaf and reading threats from your husband. But sure, you're fine."
Ava's mouth tightened. She hated that he was right. Hated it even more that part of her wanted to be near him — to let someone else, even for a moment, bear the weight she'd carried alone for years.
The car slowed, pulling into an underground garage beneath a high-rise she recognized. Cross Tower.
His tower.
He exited the car, circling to open her door, his hand outstretched. Ava hesitated. Accepting meant acknowledging how deep into this mess she already was. But the memory of Bryan's message, of his cold fury, pressed against her like a warning.
She took Damian's hand.
The elevator ride to the penthouse was silent, but her heartbeat could be heard. The doors opened to a breathtaking suite, all glass and steel, overlooking the city's endless sprawl. It felt too extravagant, too intimate.
"This isn't necessary," she whispered as he closed the door behind them.
Damian shrugged out of his jacket, draping it over a chair. "Maybe not. But I don't make a habit of leaving things I care about unprotected."
Ava flinched at the word.
He noticed.
"Before you argue," he added quietly, "this isn't about charity….Or control. It's about you not ending up on the six o'clock news because your husband couldn't handle being second to me."
She crossed the room, needing distance, needing air. "I never asked for this, Damian."
"I never planned for it."
The admission hung between them, raw and unvarnished.
Ava turned to face him. "Why me?"
There were countless women who would sell their souls for his attention. Models, heiresses, socialites — women with the kind of power she'd only glimpsed through hotel corridors.
But Damian's answer was simple. "Because you look at me like I'm a man, not a weapon."
It stole the words from her throat.
Before she could respond, his phone lit up on the table. A name she didn't recognize: Lawrence Cade.
Damian's jaw dropped.
He snatched up the device, his voice sharp. "What is it?"
A pause.
Then his expression turned lethal.
"I want his location now. No excuses."
He ended the call, shoving the phone into his pocket.
Ava's stomach churned. "What happened?"
"Bryan's drinking somewhere he shouldn't be," Damian muttered. "And running his mouth to people who don't appreciate threats made on my property."
A chill spread through her. "You can't—"
"I won't lay a hand on him," Damian said, his gaze steady. "But I won't let him put you in danger either."
Ava's hands trembled as she rubbed them together. This was spiraling too fast. She needed time, space, a moment to breathe.
"I should go."
Damian's jaw tensed. "Not tonight."
"I can't stay here, Damian."
His voice dropped, low and rough. "Then stay somewhere he can't find you. A hotel. A friend's. I don't care. But you're not walking back into that apartment."
The way he said it — not a demand, but a plea dressed as a command — unraveled her defenses more than any tender word might have.
She hated herself for it, but she nodded.
A muscle in Damian's jaw flexed. "I'll have someone drive you."
Ava swallowed, backing toward the door. "I'll figure it out."
"Ava."
She paused.
Damian crossed the room in two strides, stopping just short of touching her. His voice dropped to a murmur. "I'm not asking for anything you're not ready to give. But when this falls apart — and it will — you'll have me, Always."
The words struck somewhere deep, somewhere she hadn't realized was still vulnerable.
Ava turned away before she did something reckless.
As she stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed again.
This time, an anonymous number.
"He's watching you. He's been watching both of you. Careful who you trust."
Ava's breath hitched.
The doors closed.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure which man the message meant.
The morning after felt like a strange, distorted dream.
Ava stood at the kitchen sink, watching the gray sky through the tiny window of her apartment. The coffee in her mug had gone cold, untouched. She hadn't slept. Not really. The weight of Damian's words, Bryan's threats, and that final message clung to her like a second skin.
He's watching you. He's been watching both of you. Careful who you trust.
Ava didn't know who sent it. Or worse — if it was even meant for her. But her gut twisted with unease every time she thought about it.
The apartment door opened suddenly, making her flinch.
Bryan stood in the doorway, bleary-eyed, the stench of stale alcohol following him like a shadow. His face was drawn, mouth twisted into something cruel.
"Where the hell were you last night?"
Ava braced herself. "I stayed at a friend's."
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," she said quietly, refusing to meet his gaze.
Bryan took a step forward, and for a split second, she saw a flash of something ugly in his eyes. But then his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the moment. He checked the screen, cursed under his breath, and stormed out again.
The door slammed so hard the picture frame above the couch rattled.
Ava let out a slow, shaky breath.
It was only a matter of time before this fragile arrangement snapped completely.
By noon, she was back at the hotel. The familiar scent of polished wood and crisp linen was a strange comfort. Ava kept her head down as she made her way through the lobby, hoping to get through the day unnoticed.
But Tasha was waiting by the staff elevators, an odd look on her face.
"Hey," Tasha said, leaning in. "You okay? You look… rough."
Ava forced a weak smile. "Rough couple of nights."
Tasha hesitated. "Listen, I probably shouldn't say anything, but people are talking. About you and Mr. Cross."
Ava's stomach dropped. "What are they saying?"
"That you've been seen in places you shouldn't be. That he's… interested."
Ava's pulse raced. "It's not like that."
Tasha sighed. "It doesn't matter what it's like. In a place like this, rumors can ruin you, Ava."
A chill spread through her.
Before she could respond, Tasha glanced around and handed Ava a folded piece of paper.
"This came for you at the front desk. No name, just your initials on the envelope."
Ava unfolded it, her fingers trembling.
"Meet me, same place. Midnight."
No signature.
But she knew.
Of course she knew.
Damian.
The rest of the day crawled. Every time she passed through the lobby, she felt eyes on her. Whispers….Curious glances.
Ava tried to lose herself in tasks, but her thoughts were elsewhere — with the note, with the message, with Bryan's growing volatility.
And with the terrifying certainty that no matter how hard she tried, she was already too deep in something she couldn't escape.
By nightfall, she'd made a decision.
She wouldn't go.
She couldn't.
It was reckless. Dangerous. And whatever this was between them — obsession, protection, something neither of them dared name — it could only end badly.
At a quarter to midnight, Ava was still wide awake, sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the clock.
When her phone buzzed, her heart leapt.
A text.
"I told you not to go back there. You're smarter than this, Ava."
It wasn't a number she recognized.
Another anonymous message.
Her blood ran cold.
Another text followed.
"You're not safe there. Neither of you are."
Ava's skin prickled. She bolted from the apartment, phone in hand, not bothering to grab a coat.
She didn't think — just moved.