Page 80 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

I nearly laugh.

Requested? More like commanded.

But the strategic advantage… he’s right. Appearing together, publicly, especially with both our fathers in the room? It sends a message. One to Morgan Weiss. Another to Mark Blackwell. A message that Project Nightingale, and maybe ‘Us’, is a united front.

It’s risky. It puts our… whatever this is… squarely in the spotlight. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe hiding isn’t the answer. Maybe owning this bizarre connection is the only way to navigate the mess.

I text back him, my fingers surprisingly steady.Are you sure? At your side... it lets the world know we’re... that this is potentially more than just business.

He texts me back immediately.I don’t give a fuck what the world thinks. I want you at my side on Saturday night. Decide.

He was never one to mince words. I sigh, smiling slightly.

Attendance confirmed. What time is pickup?

The answer comes moments later.Victor will collect you at 7.

Okay then. Gala it is.

Time to face the lions.

Plural.

“So,”Ava says, expertly navigating the crowded racks at Bergdorf’s personal shopping area. “Operation Save-the-Company-slash-Confuse-the-Enemy requires… what exactly? Ball gown? Cocktail dress? Something that says ‘I can negotiate term sheets AND look hot while doing it’?”

I sigh dramatically, sinking onto a plush velvet ottoman. “Something that says ‘I’m not intimidated by your family feud, your hostile takeover vibes, or your ridiculously blue eyes.’ While also saying, ‘Please don’t let my company implode.’”

Ava pulls out a stunning emerald green silk gown. “This says ‘I own 51% of the room and look damn good doing it.’” She holds it up against me. “Seriously though. How are youreallydoing with all this? The dad stuff? The Christopherstuff?”

I trace the pattern on the ottoman. “The dad stuff… is complicated. Learning he wasn’t exactly Saint Richard of Real Estate? It shakes things up.” I look at her. “And Christopher… god, Ava, it’s a mess. One minute he’s this terrifyingly controlled enigma, the next he’s sharing things I doubt he tells anyone, then he’s… well, you know.” Heat floods my cheeks. “Then he’s helping me, defending me to my own board. Which, okay, not gonna lie, felt pretty good. But his follow-up? A text message requesting I be his date to a gala this Saturday. Says it would be ‘strategically advantageous.’Strategic!Like I’m his plus-one and a chess piece he’s deploying against his dad and Morgan. Never mind that the last time we were ‘strategically advantageous’ together involved seriously unprofessional conduct.”

“And how does that make you feel?” Ava asks.

I look at her. “I feel... I guess... despite the history, despite the risks, despite knowing better…”

“You’re falling for him,” Ava finishes softly, her expression understanding. No judgment. Just… knowing.

Is that what this is? This confusing, terrifying, exhilarating mess of emotions? It’s definitely more than just physical attraction. It’s the way he challenges me. The way he sees potential even when I doubt myself. The unexpected moments of vulnerability beneath the armor.

The way he made me feel… claimed.

Possessed.

Safe, even, in the middle of the storm.

“Yeah,” I admit, the word barely a whisper. “I think I am.”

It feels huge saying it out loud.

Terrifying.

Yet also strangely liberating.

Like jumping off a cliff hoping there’s water below, not just jagged rocks.

“Which is probably the stupidest possible thing I could do right now,” I add.

Ava smiles gently.