Page 112 of My Big, Fat, Fake Billionaire Wedding

“I understand,” I say quietly, and I do. More than she knows.

Fresh tears spill from her eyes. “I don’t even know how much it sold for. How much does a fishing boat cost? Not that it matters. It was priceless to me.”

Without thinking, I reach out and brush a tear from her cheek. Her skin is warm and soft under my thumb. She freezes at the contact, and so do I, suddenly aware of the boundary we’re crossing.

“You should try to sleep,” I say, pulling back my hand. “Your mother leaves tomorrow. You need rest.”

She nods, looking small against the pillows. “Thank you. For listening.”

I stand, putting necessary distance between us. My chest feels tight, constricted. This isn’t business anymore. This is something dangerous.

“Goodnight, Ava,” I manage.

“Goodnight, Gideon.”

I close her door and lean against the wall in the hallway, trying to steady my breathing. Fuck. I shouldn’t care this much. Shouldn’t feel this murderous rage toward a man I’ve never met forhurting her. Shouldn’t want to track down that painting and return it to her, whatever the cost.

The parallels between us are too strong. Both betrayed by people we should have been able to trust. Both having something precious stolen. But Ava fought back. She rebuilt. She painted anyway.

I return to my bedroom without the midnight snack I’d been seeking. Sleep will be even more elusive now, but for different reasons. The walls I’ve carefully constructed are showing cracks, and I don’t know how to repair them.

Tomorrow, I’ll focus on work. Create distance. I’ll be the businessman again, not this... whatever I just was in her room.

Three more months.

I can maintain boundaries for three months.

37

Gideon

Iavoid the kitchen until I hear Ava’s mother brewing coffee. I don’t want to risk another early morning encounter with Ava. Last night feels like it crossed too many lines. Her tearful confession about her grandmother’s portrait, my instinct to comfort her. I’m not sure what’s going on with me, but all I know is I’m not ready to deal with it at the moment.

“Good morning, Gideon,” Wendy says brightly as I enter. “Coffee?”

“Please.” I check my watch. 7:15 AM. “Is Ava up yet?”

“Still asleep, I think.” Wendy hands me a steaming mug. “Poor thing seemed exhausted yesterday.”

I nod, swallowing the urge to explain why. Not my place to share Ava’s pain, even with her mother. Especially when that mother failed to protect her from her stepfather’s systematic sabotage.

“I’m heading out early,” I say instead. “Meetings all day.”

Truth is, I need distance. Space to rebuild walls that cracked during that midnight conversation.

For the next three days, I follow the same pattern. Early departures. Late returns. Brief texts to Ava explaining meetings and deadlines. It’s not entirely a lie. The Tokyo deal is consuming most of my attention, but I’m also deliberately avoiding home until I know Wendy and Ava will be asleep.

On the fourth morning, I’m surprised to find Ava alone in the kitchen.

“Your mother gone?” I ask, pouring coffee and maintaining careful distance.

“Her flight left an hour ago.” Ava studies me over her own mug. “Are you going to start coming home at a reasonable hour again?”

Guilt flickers through me. “Been that obvious?”

“Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, Mr. King.” Her tone is light, but her eyes are searching. “I know why.”

Fuck. “Ava, about the other night...” My phone interrupts with Jonas’s ringtone. “I need to take this,” I say, relieved for the escape.

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