5. Ava

Chapter 5

Ava

T he clinking of glasses and scraping of plates was grating on me as I sat across from Dad at one of the nicest steakhouses in the city. Even tucked away in our private corner, the sounds didn't stop, and I was far too aware of everything, from the painfully boring professional attire I wore, to the way the soles of my feet ached in my heels.

And a part of me couldn't stop checking over Dad's shoulder in case Adrian appeared out of thin air. My anxiety about running into him had been on high alert for almost two days now.

"Should have your office up and running by Thursday," Dad said around a mouthful of food, his short beard shifting with every movement of his jaw as he chewed. His bald head was so ridiculously polished that it reflected the overhead lights as he bowed for another bite. "So you can start moving stuff in if you'd like."

"Oh, cool." I checked over his shoulder again while he was far too distracted with his food to notice.

"Any hires yet?"

"Dad, I barely have clients yet. I don't really need to make hires until I've got a little too much work for myself." I smoothed out my napkin over my plain black slacks, debating whether or not to ask the waitress for a spare one to shove in the neckline of my shirt to protect the loose, white fabric from my soup, but I decided against it.

"Who have you spoken to so far?"

I shrugged. "A handful of people in your office."

His stare turned on me, his brows narrowing. "You've only spoken to people within SkyLine?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. SkyLine Exchange wasn't exactly a hub of people looking for elite matchmaking services, but it was at least a starting point. He didn't have to look so goddamn disappointed. "For now. I've got a couple of clients."

He shook his head. "Management or ground team? I know damn well there isn't anyone on the board that's single."

I sighed and picked up my spoon, my clam chowder getting colder by the minute. "Ground team."

"Nope, no, absolutely not," Dad snapped. "Drop them as clients. You need far more important people if you want this to work."

"I have to find them first," I explained. "My website isn't exactly popular yet, and all I'm going off is word of mouth."

"Your website…" He cut himself off as he shoved another bite of wagyu between his teeth, either deciding that whatever he was going to say was too harsh or too pointless. "We've got a charity ball coming up one week from tomorrow. Come to that and work the room. I'm sure you can get enough clients there to fit the bill and to warrant hiring a few people."

The idea of attending a charity event run by one of the greediest businesses in Manhattan sounded like it would practically drain the last bit of hope for humanity I had left in me, but with Dad, it was easier to shut up and agree than try to fight it. He was a much more intense person than Mom, and as much as I loved the city, I almost regretted leaving her in Boston and coming to live here.

Especially when I now had the added worry of running into Adrian on my mind.

"Okay," I agreed, finally letting myself have a spoonful of my chowder. But the thoughts of Adrian swirled menacingly in my head. They were there nearly every second that my mind was unoccupied. I fluctuated wildly between worrying I'd see him, and remembering how his large hand had felt around my throat, and it was difficult to keep the thoughts from bubbling up to the surface.

Dad hadn't even mentioned him since I'd moved two months ago, and a wild thought crossed my mind— what if they had had a falling out?

"Have you spoken to Adrian at all lately?" I asked, hoping my tone was nonchalant enough not to raise suspicion.

"Adrian Stone?" he asked, one brow raising.

I nodded as I ate another spoonful of soup.

"Yesterday. Why?"

Shit. There went any hope that I didn't need to worry about them still being friends. "I just realized that I've been here for two months now, and I don't think I've heard you speak about him once."

He shrugged. "You and I haven't spoken much since you've been so busy," he explained. "I'm sure you'll see him around."

He took another bite of food, and for a moment, I genuinely believed I was in the clear. But then his brows were raising, and he met my gaze with the same green eyes I had, his fork jutting out at me as something worked itself out in his head.

"You should add him as a client," he said, and a fucking boulder dropped into my stomach.

"What?"

"Mhm. He said he's been dating a bit recently."

I stared at my father as his idea slowly sunk in. Why did he have to be such a hard man to say no to? "I…Isn't he, uh, married? Didn't we go to his engagement party like ten years ago?"

His fork moved as he shook his head. "His wife died a couple of years ago," he explained through his mouthful of food, and oh God , I didn't want the rest of my clam chowder. I felt like I was going to be sick. Dad must have noticed. "Nah, don't feel too bad. Jan was awful. She gave him Lucas, but that's the only positive. She was cheating on him before she died, and he had no idea until the police confirmed there were two people in the car that night."

My mind went fucking blank.

I didn't know how to respond to that like a normal human being. I'd slept with him, felt a goddamn connection with him, only to learn from my dad that his wife had died two years ago after having an affair. I'd told myself when the thought had cropped up as he touched me that maybe he'd gotten a divorce, or maybe they were separated—but dead hadn't crossed my mind once.

Swallowing through the sudden dryness in my mouth, I asked the only thing I could think of. "Who's Lucas?"

"His son," Dad clarified. "Forgot you wouldn't really know about him. He's eight, I think."

So that was the kid I'd seen on the lock screen of his phone. The puzzle pieces were fitting into place.

"I'll set up a meeting with him," Dad continued as if none of this was a bomb that had dropped and exploded inside of my brain.

"I don't think that's a good?—"

"Ava, sweetheart. He's one of the top single men in New York, he'd be the perfect fuckin' client," he explained, stabbing a soft piece of meat with his fork. "I'll talk to him and put it in your diary."

Oh my God . I wanted to jump out of the goddamn window.

"How's your love life, anyway?" he added, just to twist the knife a little further.

"It's shit," I breathed.

He popped the bit of steak into his mouth and pointed his fork at me again. "I'll see if anyone I know has got a son around your age. Need to get you off the market before some creep swoops in wanting your inheritance."

No. No, no, no, I didn't want that, didn't want more of my father's meddling in my life. Especially not when all I could think of was Adrian, not when he plagued my dreams, not when I'd just found out about his wife's death and his son, not when I couldn't stop imagining his hands between my thighs and all over my fucking body. "Dad, please?—"

He waved his fork to shut me up, gesturing toward my chowder. "Eat your soup, kiddo. It's getting cold."