Gabriel’s POV

I had listened to her carefully, not willing for a second to object. It wasn't just the words she spoke, but her confidence, that got me trapped like a fly in a web. She looked to have it all under control, the perfect example of a well-structured plan. But it all lacked one simple aspect.

Plans weren’t meant to move people; they were meant to move pawns. Plans were meant to direct people into place, position, and then for a successful hit or break. Tonight, I wasn’t dealing with chess pieces; I was walking into a maze with only one way out but many death traps.

The rooftop glowed with expensive light. Every table had littered on it drinks and people of high caliber. Every chilled pop of champagne, every laugh that vibrated against the expensive booth coverings, all screamed elegance. This is the kind of luxury that only the wealthy could fake as casual.

I had been here for over thirty minutes. I hadn’t touched my drink. The cool wind carried the strong scent of liquor mixed with expensive lavender perfume from the guests around. I stared around at the well-dressed people, exaggerated laughs and expensive jewelry swinging around. I knew I belonged in a place like this, but I couldn't relax, I wasn’t here to enjoy the moment.

I was waiting, watching, then my mind drifted to earlier.

***

Thirty Minutes Earlier

“She’ll be there.” Linda’s voice had been sharp, laced with authority as she stood in my office, tablet in hand and blazer clinging to every inch of her now, extremely hot body.

I remained seated on my rolling chair, behind my desk, with my arms crossed over my chest and a chill gaze. “You’re sure?”

“She’s not exactly hard to track,” Linda said. “She’s with her assistant. They’re attending a quiet celebration at the luxurious club, a few streets from here. Don't think they'll be on the ground floor, too noisy, they’ll be on the rooftop.”

I’d hesitated. I gave it another thought, and it still didn't make any sense to me to do this. The rooftop is a perfect place for privacy, but once spotted, it would spread and spread among those who matter.

Linda must have noticed my hesitation cause she crossed the room slowly. Her heels clicked softly against the marble until she was standing at the edge of my desk. I looked up at her as she placed a hand on my desk, just near my files. The other hand rested on her waist as she leaned in towards me.

“You’re hesitating,” she said softly.

“She’s still Liam’s ex-wife, and this is a well-known place, with cameras, phones. Any mistake and we’re giving the media a full-course meal.”

She leaned closer. Her face is now inches from mine.

Her breath fanned my face. Then I heard her next words. “This isn’t about the media, Gabriel. It’s about you, it's about your family, about your father.” She paused, then lowered her voice before continuing. “He’s watching, we all are.”

I didn’t answer, I couldn’t. My eyes weren’t on her face anymore. They darted from her face down to her chest. Her blouse dipped just enough for the top part of her chest to peek through. And for a second, maybe more than a second, I wanted to reach across that desk and drag her towards me. I wanted more than anything to close the space between us.

But I didn’t. It took everything in me, but I held my control. My eyes didn't leave her chest; it lingered there even when I gave her a slow nod.

“I’ll go,” I said after a few more minutes, more like I was trying to get myself together. I don't know whether she knew what she was doing or not, but Linda remained in that position for longer than necessary. Then she smirked before pushing herself away, turning and walking towards the door.

She stopped not too far from it. "Oh, and Gabriel?" She turned her head back. "Good luck."

With that, she walked out, leaving me with a hand over my face.

***

Even now, the mere thought of it stirred something low inside me.

I shifted in my seat slightly to hide my growing crotch, but that’s when I spotted someone who looked exactly like her, or what I knew her to look like. She had just passed two tables ahead. Her hair glowed like dark crystals beneath the rooftop lights. She moved shyly, almost like she was trying to avoid being seen. Her friend led her confidently through the room.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I tapped the image Linda had sent to me. She looked exactly like the image; no doubt that it was her. Ava Morales.

But Linda hadn’t given much detail about the second woman, her friend. The one walking before her. She was animated, waving her arms in frustration as they reached their table. She was visibly angry and looked very protective of Ava.

I couldn't hear a word she spoke, but I could tell very well that she was pissed, but I couldn't say why. Ava, on the other hand, looked like a cracked vase barely held together.

She folded in on herself as the conversation dragged on, her shoulders hunched forward, her fingers tightening around her glass while she kept her gaze on the table.

Her friend was doing all the screaming, all the hand movements. Ava was doing all the listening and spoke on a few occasions, no energy, just pain.

I leaned back and watched intently. From what I could see, her friend wasn't leaving her anytime soon, and there was no way I would walk in there between such an emotional conversation without getting too much attention.

I could’ve left her alone, walked away and maybe try some other time. I didn't, there was something about the way her mouth pressed shut like she was sealing her screams behind her lips, something about the way she folded up, like there was more to say.

The fact that even when she looked like a disaster, she still looked beautiful. I shouldn’t have thought it, but I did. I ran my eyes along the line of her neck, the way her hair clung to her shoulders. It was slightly curled at the ends. Her back was slightly enough for me now, and even from here, I could see her face, her curves.

I bit down hard against my inner thoughts.

"Focus," I said to myself, trying to get it together.

Seconds later, the friend stood up abruptly. She shoved her clutch under her arm and walked away. Whether it was to get a drink or take a piss, I didn't know and honestly didn't care. This was my opportunity, the one I've been patiently waiting for. I waited till she walked past me, down to the elevator.

She was finally alone. I downed my drink in one sharp gulp and stood up quickly. I adjusted my cuffs calmly and crossed the floor with enough composure, one known as a man of my status.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked casually. She didn't seem to hear me at first cause she said nothing. Then after a second, like she just realized that I was talking to her. She started to say something without turning. I didn't wait, I slid in behind her as she remained in the same position, backing me and on her phone.

I didn’t hear her protest. I was too busy studying her. Her lashes were thick but now messy, probably from her tears. Her lips were parted, likely from gasping through sobs earlier, and her blouse had a faint wine color spilled over the collar area, the neckline.

She was beautiful, in a haunted kind of way, and I liked it, guess this won't be an entire waste of my time.

“Ava,” I said calmly, trying to draw her attention.

She turned, and her entire body visibly stiffened. Her lips stopped moving, and her breathing hitched just enough for me to see it.

I let the moment stretch, savoring the confusion in her eyes.

And when she didn’t speak, I smiled wider.

Tonight was going to be fun.