Page 3 of Lucas (The Valeur Billionaires #2)

Chapter Three

AVA

I smooth my hands over my tight, knee-length white Chanel dress and adjust the plunging neckline. My fingers grip the tray of appetizers I brought.

This is the first time I’ve agreed to attend one of Michelle’s infamous house parties, even though we’ve been friends forever. I always had an excuse ready—too busy, too tired, too stressed. But she wore me down and insisted this time it would be an intimate gathering, just a few close friends.

I knock on her door, forcing a smile.

The door swings open and a man with long hair covering half his face appears. He squints at me, a joint dangling from his chapped lips. Smoke curls around his head in a hazy cloud.

“Oh, sorry, I’m looking for Michelle Downey?”

He snickers, taking a long drag before blowing the acrid smoke in my face. “Yo, Mich! Some uptight chick in a prissy dress here for you.” He turns and weaves back into the depths of the house without waiting for a response.

Real classy, Michelle.

I step inside and swallow hard. The place is packed with people. So much for an intimate gathering. It looks like Michelle invited half of San Jose.

Michelle weaves her way through the crowd until she reaches me. “Ava, you made it.” Her tone is surprised as if she never believed I would accept her invitation.

“No, I sent a hologram instead,” I say.

“Haha.” She takes the tray of sandwiches from me and plops it on the kitchen counter. “Come on, let’s get you a drink, and I’ll introduce you around.”

Then she grabs my hand and drags me into the living room. “Pete, Jennifer, Dom, Mick, Chantal, meet Ava. A friend from my wild college days.”

I raise my hand in a little wave and try to smile. The group lounges on the couch, bottles of booze littering the coffee table.

The long-haired guy, who I now know is named Mick, curls his lip. “What’s with the school uniform? Or maybe you raided your grandma’s closet before coming over?”

I glance at my dress. An elegant designer number that cost a few thousand dollars, hardly a school uniform. Not even close.

The redhead next to him—Jennifer—laughs. “That’s not a school outfit, Mick. She probably thinks she’s Audrey Hepburn or something. Were you born in the forties? Nice dress, though.”

“We get it, you have money,” Chantal says with a snicker. “ You don’t need to wave it in our faces. You’ve got the wrong crowd for that. Wealth impresses no one here. Right, guys?”

I promised Michelle I would try to connect with her friends, but clearly, this is a lost cause.

“Sorry, I was born with good taste,” I mutter.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just a little drunk,” Michelle whispers in my ear. “Come sit with us.”

I perch on the edge of the sofa, clasping my hands on my knees.

“Beer?” Michelle passes me a bottle and I accept it. I’m not much of a drinker, but everyone here has a bottle or glass in hand, so I assume it’s expected. At least it gives me something to do with my hands.

“It’s Jennifer’s birthday soon,” Mick says. “We need to celebrate.”

“I don’t want you buying me gifts and participating in that waste.” Jennifer looks at him. “I appreciate hand-picked flowers from a garden way more than expensive presents. It shows thought. Don’t you think so, Ava?” Her gaze pierces me.

Picking flowers from someone’s garden is stealing.

But I just nod and take a swig of beer. They chat on about the silliness of gifts while I rack my brain trying to figure out how to scrounge up millions for payroll, so my employees can feed their families.

The group’s debate seems petty and pointless, but I promised Michelle I would keep an open mind, so I smile and nod at everything they say.

Luckily, they don’t seem to require any actual response from me.

I don’t understand what she sees in these people.

You need to loosen up. That’s what Michelle said, right? Isn’t that why I’m here ?

Jennifer’s cackle draws my attention back to the group. “The weirdest place I ever fucked was a restaurant bathroom.” She snorts. “What? We couldn’t wait!”

“That’s not that weird,” Chantal jeers, waving a hand. “Bathrooms are a classic. I did it right in the restaurant dining room once. Straddled him in the back booth with my coat covering us.”

“Wow, sexy,” Michelle says. “For me, it wasn’t full-on sex, but I had a boyfriend in the hospital once, and I went down on him. We closed the curtain, but I was so scared his heart monitor would start beeping like crazy.” She dissolves into giggles.

I didn’t know Michelle was so adventurous. She never told me that story. My own sexual experience seems so tame in comparison. I never did anything like that.

“And the monitor didn’t go off?” Mick arches an eyebrow. “Maybe you need to work on your oral skills.”

Michelle smacks his arm. “Hey, rude! What about you? Where was your weirdest spot?”

“I don’t know about weird,” Mick says with a shrug, “but I used to work at a grocery store, and my girlfriend surprised me once by coming to see me, so I took her in the back and fucked her against the walk-in fridge.”

“Eww. And then people ate that food.” Michelle wrinkles her nose.

“They’re not eating the actual fridge, and it was closed,” Mick counters.

Chantal turns to me. “What about you, Ava? Where was your weirdest place?”

I bite my lip. “Um...”

“Come on, we all shared ours. ”

“I don’t remember.”

“She doesn’t remember,” Mick guffaws, slapping his knee. “Have you even been fucked, Miss Audrey? Oh wait, she probably doesn’t say ‘fuck’ because it’s too crass for her delicate sensibilities.”

Jennifer’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit, are you a virgin? How old are you?”

“I’m not a virgin,” I snap. “And I’m twenty-eight.”

“Twenty-eight and can’t even tell us a sex story?” Chantal gapes at me. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I’m not a virgin.” My voice rises along with my irritation.

“Not a virgin, but too good to swap stories with us lowly peons. Is that it? First the fancy clothes, now this? You think you’re better than us.”

Anger bubbles up in my chest, but I tamp it back down. “Fine. Weirdest place? Costume party. I was dressed as a cat. Let a guy in a dog costume fuck me up the ass,” I lie. “Happy?”

Rising to my feet, I stare them down, daring them to keep mocking me. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” I grab my purse and stalk toward the door, humiliation burning in my cheeks. I never should have come here.

“Ava, wait!” Michelle chases after me, catching my arm. “Don’t be like that. They’re just drunk and stupid. They didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry about all the sex talk. That always happens when they get wasted.”

They absolutely meant to offend me. I whirl on her, weeks of stress and exhaustion boiling over. “Don’t be like what, exactly? Stuck up? Frigid? A killjoy?”

“Yeah, kind of. You used to be fun. We used to go out and let loose. What happened to my party girl bestie?” She pouts at me.

“Your party girl bestie grew up and took over her family’s failing business, that’s what,” I say. “I’m not in college anymore, Michelle.”

“Wait. Failing?” She frowns. “I didn’t realize things were that bad. You never talk about work.”

“You never ask about work. About anything in my life. When was the last time you called me to do anything other than invite me to another rager that you know I’m going to decline?”

A hurt look flashes across her face. “Hey, that’s not fair. I’m trying here. Friendship is a two-way street, Ava. When was the last time you made an effort? Invited me to anything? Talked to me about anything real?”

“Invite you to what, exactly? The home I’m barely ever at because I’m working myself to the bone trying to keep my company afloat? Filling Father’s shoes when he’s the one who ran it into the ground in the first place?” Angry tears sting my eyes.

“Shit, Ava. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” She reaches out, but I jerk back.

“No, you didn’t. Because you never asked. You have no idea who I really am, the burdens I carry. We’re not kids anymore, Michelle. I can’t go to parties and pretend everything is fun and sunny.”

She recoils as if I’ve slapped her. “Message received, loud and clear. Sorry, I’m not on your level.”

She spins on her heel and stalks back into the party, slamming the door in my face. The sound reverberates through my bones .

I stand there for a long moment, shaking. What the hell was I thinking, coming here tonight?

Michelle is right. I don’t fit in anymore. I don’t fit in anywhere.

I’ve never felt more alone.

I stand in front of the restaurant, scanning the patrons seated at the tables. A couple, another couple, a young man, two women. None of them look like Peter Valeur, so I assume he hasn’t arrived yet.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the glass door open, my hand gripping the small black clutch that matches my off-the-shoulder red dress.

“Welcome to La Fontaine,” the hostess greets me with a warm smile as I step into the cool interior. “Do you have a reservation?”

“Yes, I’m meeting someone. Ava Gant, party of two,” I reply, straightening my spine and projecting an air of confidence I don’t quite feel.

She scans her list and nods. “Of course, right this way, Miss Gant. Your companion has already arrived.”

Already here? I follow her through the lit dining room, past the mahogany bar and toward the center tables.

I turn to thank her, but the words die in my throat when I catch sight of the man sitting there.

Lucas Valeur . With his smug smile, dark brown hair, chiseled features, and piercing blue eyes that seem to look right through me. He’s wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fits him like a second skin, emphasizing his broad shoulders and trim waist.

“I’m sorry, I think there’s been some mistake,” I say. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Peter?—”

“Ava Gant, I presume?” His voice is a low, honeyed drawl that sends shivers skating down my spine. “Already having second thoughts?”

I wait for him to stand, but he doesn’t, so I sit and cross my legs. “Yes. I’m Ava Gant. I’m sorry, I was expecting your father.”