The silence in her apartment wasn't enough to drown out Ethan Hayes' voice. His questions echoed in her head like they'd been carved into her brain.
What's your profit margin? Why should I believe you won't waste my money the way you wasted yours last year? What sets you apart from the hundred other designers clawing for investors?
She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, trying to chase the memory away, but it only came sharper. His voice was low, clipped, every word like a scalpel slicing into her defenses. Ava hated that she still cared. Hated that hours later, she could still feel her cheeks heating under his gaze.
Her phone buzzed across the counter. Maddie's name lit up the screen. Ava debated ignoring it, but the buzzing wouldn't stop. With a sigh, she answered.
"Hey," she muttered, flopping onto the couch.
""Well," Maddie said in a dramatic and playful tone, "I'd say you made it through my dad's interrogation." Barely.
Ava groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Don't be so dramatic. That's just how he is. Intense, skeptical, all business. Underneath, he's actually soft."
Soft? Ava almost laughed. Ethan Hayes was many things,intimidating, sharp, infuriating,but soft was not one of them. Maddie clearly didn't see the way his gaze could freeze a person in place. To her, he was just Dad. To Ava, he was the wall standing between her and the future she wanted.
"Mm-hmm," Ava said noncommittally.
"Trust me," Maddie continued, "he respects you more than you think. If he didn't, he would've shut the meeting down after five minutes."
Ava wasn't convinced. But Maddie's optimism was contagious, so she forced herself to smile. "If you say so."
"Goodnight, drama queen," Maddie teased.
"Goodnight, instigator." Ava hung up, her chest tightening again.
The next day, Ava stood in the middle of her studio, staring at the chaos she'd created.
Sketches littered the worktable. Swatches of fabric were pinned to corkboards. A half-finished gown sat lifeless on the mannequin, its sequins catching the weak light from the window. Normally, the space hummed with possibility. Today, it was suffocating.
She grabbed her sketchbook, flipping through pages of designs she'd poured herself into sharp-shouldered suits for women who wanted power, flowing dresses that whispered luxury, bold colors daring anyone to look away. They were good. She knew they were good. But good wasn't enough.
Not in an industry where you either broke through or broke down.
Her stomach knotted as she thought about the bills stacked on her counter at home. Rent. Electricity. Fabric suppliers threatened to cut her off if she didn't pay soon. She chewed her lip, blinking back the sting in her eyes.
One wrong investment last year had nearly sunk her. She'd trusted the wrong partner, poured her savings into a joint venture that collapsed within months. The embarrassment had been worse than the financial hit walking into meetings only to be dismissed as reckless, naïve. Now, she could barely keep the lights on in this studio, let alone think about expanding.
And yet she dreamed bigger. She wanted runways, magazines, buyers fighting for her pieces. She wanted her designs in Paris, Milan, New York. Fashion Week wasn't just a dream; it was her lifeline. But without money, without credibility, it was impossible.
Her hands clenched into fists. Ethan Walker could change everything. If only he didn't already look at her like she was one misstep away from failure.
The knock on her studio door startled her.
Ava frowned, brushing fabric dust from her skirt before answering. The last person she expected stood on the other side.
"Lucas," she said flatly.
"Hey, Ava." His smile was the same as always;easy, confident, the kind that once had her weak in the knees. Now, it made her skin crawl. He leaned casually against the frame, like he belonged here. "It's been a while."
"Not long enough," she replied, starting to close the door.
He slipped a hand inside before it shut. "Come on. Don't be like that. I just wanted to see how you're doing."
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm busy."
Lucas ignored her, pushing the door wider to step inside. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the sketches spread across the table. "Still chasing the dream, huh?"
"Get to the point."
He gave a low chuckle. "Look, I know things didn't end great between us."
"Didn't end great?" she snapped. "You cheated on me, Lucas and got her pregnant. How is your baby mama by the way?."
For once, his smirk faltered. But only for a second. "I made a mistake. But I've been thinking of you, Ava. You're still hustling. Still fighting. And I still love you ."
Her stomach twisted. "Love? Who? I'm not in the mood for this, Lucas."
"You need investors. I know people. You know I have connections. Let me help you. We could be unstoppable."
The audacity of him left her momentarily speechless. Lucas hadn't changed. He was still selfish, still manipulative, still thinking she'd crumble at the first hint of attention.
"Get out," she said finally, her voice cold.
He stepped closer, his tone dropping. "Don't be so quick to dismiss me. I'm not your enemy, Ava. I'm your best shot."
Her chin lifted. "You're the past. I'm not going backward."
For a beat, something hard flickered in his eyes. Then he laughed lightly, masking it. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when all this…" he gestured around the studio, "comes crashing down."
He left, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed was heavy, her breath shaky. Ava leaned against the worktable, gripping its edge until her knuckles turned white.
Lucas was wrong. He had to be.
Her phone rang later that evening. Maddie.
Ava hesitated, still reeling from Lucas' intrusion, but answered anyway.
"So," Maddie said without preamble, "good news."
Ava's pulse skipped. "What now?"
"My dad," Maddie said, drawing out the suspense. "He's not convinced yet, but… he's interested. He wants to see more."
Ava sat up straighter. "Interested?"
"Yeah. He doesn't want paperwork or some stiff proposal. He said maybe a business dinner would be better. You know, less formal, more personal. Talk things through."
Ava's heart slammed against her ribs. "Dinner. With your dad."
"Yes. Relax. He said he wants to see you in a different setting."
A business dinner. With Ethan Hayes.
Relief and terror crashed together inside her. This was a chance,a real chance. But the thought of sitting across from him again, those sharp eyes dissecting her every word, made her throat go dry.
"When?" she asked quietly.
"Friday night.I'll text you the restaurant . Be ready."
Be ready. Ava wasn't sure she ever could be.
By nightfall, her apartment was a battlefield. Dresses lay strewn across the bed, blouses draped over chairs, skirts puddled on the floor. Ava stood in the middle of it all, clutching a pencil skirt in one hand and a silk blouse in the other.
Nothing looked right.
The navy sheath dress? Too stiff, too corporate. The blush blouse and black trousers? Too safe, too forgettable. The emerald skirt with a crisp white shirt? Bold, maybe, but what if it was too much?
She tossed them onto the growing pile with a frustrated groan.
"This isn't about clothes," she muttered to herself, pacing. "It's about business. About proving I'm not a risk."
But deep down, she knew it was also about him. Ethan Hayes. The way his gaze had pinned her in place. The way his questions had sliced through her defenses. He wasn't a man who could be impressed easily.
Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her ,tired, nervous, but determined. She pressed her palms flat against the dresser, trying to steady her breath.
"This is it," she whispered. "My second chance. I can't blow it."
But the memory of Ethan's piercing eyes refused to leave her mind. Doubt curled in her stomach, sharp and suffocating.
"What if I ruin this too?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and terrifying, as her reflection looked back at her with wide, uncertain eyes.
And for the first time in a long while, Ava Collins wasn't sure she was ready.