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How did I fall so easily for his lies?
“It’s going ahead. So you can chill out. Or have a heart attack. I don’t care. But you’d probably need a heart for that.”
“Ava,” he growls. His brows flatten, then furrow again immediately. “You’re not happy.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Jet Grant said it, so it must be true.” I snort and look around us, but everyone is having their own conversations, paying no attention to the tension radiating from our small space in the room.
“All these trips with your mum?”
“What?” I bring my eyes to meet his, ignoring the way my blood sparks like it’s electrically charged as he looks deep into mine. “How do you know what I’ve been doing?”
His jaw tightens. “I know.”
“Are you stalking me online or something?”
“You’re still mine to keep safe, Ava.”
“What? I wasneveryours! You made sure of that when you lied to me, over and over. When you betrayed me.”
He leans closer, his voice taking on a dark edge, like gravel blackened from rain. “Tell me you’re happy.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything. You’re no one to me.”
“But you’re someone to me.” His words from Thailand echo in my head. Lies. Lies. Lies.
“Ava,” he rasps, his breath dusting the shell of my earlobe.
I stare at his tie, studying the emerald threads running through it as he stays so close that I can smell his aftershave.
“I want to talk to you,” he whispers, “I…” His breath huffs over my skin, making me shudder. “I need to… Fuck…”
“There you are!”
He moves away quickly, his heated eyes catching mine for a split second before Francesca Callaghan wraps herself around his arm, leaning into his side.
“Fran,” he acknowledges her, making no attempt to untangle himself. “This is Ava Roberts. She’s the granddaughter of my father’s friend.”
“So nice to meet you. I’m Francesca.” She smiles at me without a hint of recognition.
Granddaughter of his father’s friend? Asshole.
I smile politely at Francesca, who’s changed into a smart pant suit.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I reply automatically.
“Baby, the press wants some photos,” she tells Jet, giving me an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry to steal him away. Why don’t we all get dinner one night. I’d love to get to know one of Jet’s friends. I’ve never met any.”
I give her a tight smile as she leads him away. They move through some open double doors and into a large side room where some of the models are posing for photos in front of a branded backdrop. Francesca pulls Jet in front of it and then places her palm flat against his chest, while pushing her breasts against him. He stands there looking solemn, his handwrapping around her waist, then slipping lower, resting on the spot where the pearls were sitting when she was on the runway.
I whip my eyes away and grab a champagne flute from a tray a passing server is carrying.
“Thank you.”
I knock it back in one, then go in search of Mum.
I’ve seen enough.
