The morning after their yacht confrontation lingered like expensive perfume—clinging to everything and refusing to fade.
Ava stood at the edge of the master suite's balcony, bare feet pressed against the warm wood, salt air brushing her skin. Below her, the ocean sparkled like diamonds. But the beauty was wasted on her. She wasn't here for pleasure.
She was here for war.
Inside, Kai still slept. His chest rose and fell with the ease of a man who had nothing to fear. But Ava? Her body still ached from the night before—not just from sex, but from restraint.
Celeste had left early that morning, after giving Ava a look that said, This isn't over.
Good. Ava liked it when people underestimated her.
She didn't expect peace. Not from Kai. Not from herself. They were too alike. Fire wrapped in velvet. Violence painted in affection. Lovers wearing the masks of enemies.
She turned from the view as Kai stirred. His eyes opened slowly, then locked on hers.
"You're watching me again," he murmured.
"You sleep like you own the world."
He smirked. "Don't I?"
She didn't answer. Just walked to the bed and stood over him.
Kai reached for her thigh, but she stepped back.
"Not today," she said.
His brows lifted. "Playing hard to get?"
"No. Just playing smarter."
---
Ava spent the day mapping her moves. Her revenge plan had twisted into something else entirely, but the pieces still mattered. She needed access—real access—to Kai's empire. And that meant getting inside his company, not just his bed.
So she called in a favor. From the one man Kai couldn't kill.
Lucien Cross.
Lucien was tall, powerful, and dressed like money had been stitched into his skin. He met Ava at a high-rise rooftop bar that evening, wearing a smirk that matched his reputation.
"You look like trouble," he said, sipping bourbon.
"You're not wrong."
He leaned closer. "Why the sudden contact? Kai wouldn't like it."
Ava crossed her legs slowly. "That's exactly why I'm here."
Lucien chuckled. "You're not scared of him?"
"Terrified. But that's part of the thrill."
---
Kai knew she met Lucien. Of course he did.
The moment she returned to the yacht, she found him in the cigar lounge, the air thick with silence. He didn't speak as she entered. Just looked at her.
Deadly calm.
"Business or pleasure?" he asked finally.
"Which answer makes you angrier?"
He stood, crossed to her in three steps.
"Don't play games you're not ready to finish."
She tilted her chin. "You don't own me."
His hands grabbed her waist, yanked her close.
"No," he whispered against her lips. "But I ruin anything that tries."
Then he kissed her. Brutal. Claiming. Her breath hitched as her back slammed into the lounge wall. He lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist, and slammed into her before she could protest.
He was rough. Furious. Addicted.
She matched him moan for moan, bite for bite. But it was more than lust. It was war. They were carving something into each other that neither one could erase.
When it was over, Kai didn't let go.
He whispered, "I know what you're doing. I'm just wondering how far you'll go."
Ava kissed his throat.
"Far enough to make you beg."
---
Later that night, Kai stood alone in his office, staring at the security footage of Ava meeting Lucien. He didn't show jealousy.
He showed calculation.
He picked up his phone.
"Follow her. Every hour. Every move. And if she lies—bring her to me."
The line went dead.
Power had rules.
But so did love.
And neither of them were following either.