Page 131 of Faking It With My Pucking Protector

He breaks away from the group and heads in my direction, drink in hand, smile perfectly intact.

My grip locks around the edge of the table, knuckles whitening before I force them to relax.

“Ava.”

The sound of my name from his mouth sends a chill spidering down my spine.

I look up slowly, spine straight, expression neutral.

“I just wanted to say congratulations.” Brad smiles smoothly. “This whole thing turned out better than I expected.”

I don’t respond.

He takes a sip, eyes narrowing just enough that I notice. “A few people here were surprised when my company pulled funding. I told them you’d land on your feet… though I’ll admit, I didn’t think it would be this fast.”

I breathe once, steady. “We’re doing just fine.”

His gaze flicks briefly toward the bar. “Well, having a boyfriend with money and name recognition certainly doesn’t hurt.”

I take a slow sip of water, my gaze drifting past him to the far end of the room, making it clear he’s not worth my focus.

He leans in, voice pitched low. “For the record? I didn’t want to pull the funding. But you left me no choice.”

I blink once. “This isn’t about you anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

His smile twitches, but I’m already turning to join Jackson at the bar when I hear it.

“Bitch.”

It’s low, meant to slide under the noise of the room, but it lands like a slap. My pulse spikes, heat rushing to my face. I stop, turning back slowly.

“What did you just say?”

Brad’s smile falters. “Nothing.”

Jackson’s there before I can say more, setting a drink on the table beside me. His gaze locks on Brad, calm but unflinching.

“You’ve had enough of her time. Leave. Or I’ll walk you out, and I check harder than I skate.”

For a second, Brad holds his ground, his jaw working like he’s searching for something to say. His gaze flicks past Jackson like he’s looking for backup, but no one’s paying him any attention. Then Jackson’s stare gets to him — steady, unblinking, impossible to hold. He mutters something under his breath and heads for the exit.

As he passes, the same donor he’d been laughing with a few minutes ago steps past him without a glance and comes straight to me, smiling warmly.

“Ava, that was an incredible speech.”

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it.

Jackson offers me the drink, and I take it with a faint, shaky laugh. “I need this.”

“Figured you might.”

He studies me for a moment. “You okay?”

I nod, the corners of my mouth lifting. “Yeah. He doesn’t get to rattle me anymore.”

He nods, his fingers brushing mine as he takes my hand, and together we turn back toward the stage—just as Jenna takes the mic to call final bids on the silent auction.

There’s a playful round of cheers from the back of the room, where a few guests are still hovering over bid sheets like it’s a competitive sport.