Ava’s POV
I knew I was walking into something.
From the moment the calendar ping from Liam’s assistant hit my inbox—sterile, passive-aggressive, zero context—I knew. It had the exact energy of a message that says “We need to talk” but in corporate, Helvetica font. I spent the next twenty minutes staring at the words like they might rearrange themselves into something reassuring.
They didn’t.
By the time I made it to his office, I’d already cycled through five potential disasters. I figured it was a performance issue, or maybe I left something out of a report. Or maybe—God—maybe he was about to bring up the whole “almost kissed in a glass office like idiots with no impulse control” thing and I’d be forced to spontaneously combust on the spot.
I hadn’t prepared for what actually came out of his mouth.
“You were late this morning,” he said without looking at me. His voice was calm, detached. Like we were strangers again.
I blinked. “Yeah. I took the metro and underestimated the chaos of humanity.”
He finally turned, and the second our eyes met I felt it—cold. Not just annoyed. Not just professional. Cold in a way that made my chest tighten.
“I’d prefer it didn’t become a habit.”
That was it. No smile. No warmth. No trace of the man who had almost kissed me, who had looked at me like I was a surprise he wasn’t prepared for but wanted anyway.
And that—okay. That hurt more than I expected it to.
“I understand,” I said, even though I didn’t. At all.
Because I’d been working so hard. I’d been pulling ten-hour days and trying to learn this company’s brain from the inside out and pushing down every urge to crawl into his lap and ask if he really meant it, if he really felt something, because apparently my frontal lobe had declared a romantic mutiny. And now here I was, being scolded like I was a high schooler with a late pass.
And then he said it.
“What’s going on between you and Jeremy?”
I genuinely thought I misheard him.
“I—sorry?”
“You know each other. He said as much in the interview. I want to know how well. And if his hiring has anything to do with you.”
My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, because what.
“Wait, you think I brought Jeremy in? Why would I do that?”
Liam didn’t answer. His expression didn’t even shift. He just waited, arms folded like a statue that wanted to ruin my life.
I exhaled sharply. “Jamie told me your father pushed for him. I was told it was a formality. I didn’t even know he was applying until he was already in the system. I’ve done everything you’ve asked, I’ve gone above and beyond, and now you’re accusing me of what—coordinating some secret nepotism pact?”
He didn’t blink. “He made it sound like you two were close.”
I let out a sharp, humorless breath. “Yeah, well, Jeremy makes a lot of things sound like they’re something they’re not.”
He was watching me too closely now. Like he was trying to hear something I wasn’t saying. Like there was a right answer he was waiting for, and I was too stupid to land on it.
“Nothing’s going on,” I said finally, because I felt like I had to say something, and it was true, wasn’t it? “We’re not close. We’ve never been close. I didn’t want him hired.”
Liam was still silent. Like he didn’t believe me. Or maybe—worse—like he did, and it didn’t matter.
And then, because I couldn’t leave it alone, because I never know when to stop, I asked, “Why are you asking me this? How do you even know what happened this morning?”
He didn’t answer right away. Which was already an answer.
“Oh my God,” I said, and I hated how my voice cracked, hated that I felt like I was losing something I hadn’t even gotten to keep. “You’re watching me?”
“There’s footage,” he said evenly. “The café has surveillance.”
“And you looked at it?”
He didn’t flinch. “I wanted to know what was going on with someone I trusted to lead one of my departments.”
The word trusted stung more than I wanted it to.
“You saw a thirty-second clip and decided I was compromised?” I snapped. “That’s it? No questions, no context—just judgment?”
He stepped forward then, and his voice, when he spoke, wasn’t cold anymore. It was quieter. Lower. But somehow worse.
“I don’t want a story, Ava. I don’t want excuses. I just want to know one thing.”
I froze.
“Can you look me in the eye,” he said, “and tell me there’s nothing going on between you and Jeremy?”