It was late. The city lights of Century City twinkled below the floor-to-ceiling windows of Cullen Hunter's office like fallen stars. The office was cold, sterile, and silent, save for the hum of the hard drive on his desk.
The door opened. Liam Jenkins walked in. He didn't knock. He was the only person on the payroll allowed to do that.
"We have a problem," Liam said. He placed a tablet on the glass desk. "Hamlin Ward is threatening to sue Avery for assault."
Cullen rolled his eyes. He leaned back in his leather chair, rubbing his temples. "Since when does Avery assault people? Did she throw a martini at him?"
"She threw an elbow," Liam corrected. "To the solar plexus."
Cullen stopped rubbing his temples. He looked at Liam. "Excuse me?"
"Watch."
Liam pressed play on the tablet.
The security footage was grainy, black and white. Cullen watched Avery and Zoe walking. He watched Hamlin approach. He watched the shove.
And then he watched Avery.
He rewound it. He watched it again. The catch of the wrist. The pivot. The strike. The lack of hesitation. Her face was a blur, but her body language was clear. It was cold. It was efficient.
This was not the woman who had cried in his bed yesterday morning. This was not the chaotic, desperate girl the tabloids loved to hate.
"She moves like she's trained," Cullen muttered. A spark of intrigue lit up in his chest, hot and sudden.
"Hamlin says his wrist is sprained. He wants her arrested," Liam said.
Cullen felt a surge of irritation. Not at Avery. But at the idea of Hamlin Ward-a parasite with a trust fund-touching something that Cullen had... interacted with.
"Hamlin is a waste of space," Cullen decided. He pushed the tablet away. "Make it go away."
Liam raised an eyebrow. "You want to help her? After the stunt she pulled this morning with the money?"
Cullen's jaw tightened. He could still see the crumpled bills on his nightstand. "That pathetic display was an insult. I won't allow a debt, no matter how small or symbolic, to stand between us. Erase it. It's about closing the books on my terms, not hers."
Liam suppressed a smirk. He knew better than to argue with Cullen when he was lying to himself. "Understood. I'll find a scapegoat. Maybe a 'slip and fall' witness. Or I'll just buy Hamlin a new car."
"And Liam," Cullen added. He stared at the freeze-frame on the tablet. Avery standing over Hamlin, looking like a queen of the underworld. "Find out where she is. She's not at her apartment."
"Already on it," Liam said, turning to leave.
Cullen was left alone with the silence. He touched the screen, tracing the outline of Avery's figure.
His phone buzzed on the desk. A text from Cheslie.
I'm so worried about Avery. Have you seen her? She's not answering me.
For the first time in years, seeing Cheslie's name didn't bring a sense of comfort. It brought a wave of annoyance.
He ignored the text. He closed the tablet.
He stood up, restless. The office felt too small. The air was too recycled. He needed a drink. A real drink.
He grabbed his suit jacket.
"Driver," he spoke into his intercom. "Take me to the Blue Velvet."
Fate, it seemed, was moving the pieces together on the board.
