The morning after the gala felt heavier than any hangover. Ava sat at her desk with a mug of coffee she barely touched, scrolling through reports without actually seeing the numbers. Every time she blinked, she remembered the press of Ethan’s mouth on hers, the heat of his hands, the way he had claimed her in the hallway as though the world outside didn’t exist.

She had sworn it couldn’t happen again. Yet the memory still clung to her like a second skin.

“Ava.”

His voice came from the ...