Page 6 of Lucas
Mind made up, I take a deep, shuddery breath and reach for my desk phone. “Bridget? Set up a meeting with the CEO of Valeur Enterprises. Somewhere public, a nice restaurant. Someplace I can make a good first impression.”
My loyal assistant hesitates for a beat before responding. “Of course, Miss Gant. I’ll arrange it.”
Even Peter Valeur wouldn’t cause a scene in a crowded restaurant.
My stomach churns as I imagine sitting across from him,knowing what my father expects me to do. What he’s ordering me to do.
But what choice do I have?
Father made himself perfectly clear.
When a Gant wants something, they get it.
No matter what it takes.
Even if it means throwing his only daughter to the wolves.
Chapter Three
AVA
Ismooth my hands over my tight, knee-length white Chanel dress and adjust the plunging neckline. My fingers grip the tray of appetizers I brought.
This is the first time I’ve agreed to attend one of Michelle’s infamous house parties, even though we’ve been friends forever. I always had an excuse ready—too busy, too tired, too stressed. But she wore me down and insisted this time it would be an intimate gathering, just a few close friends.
I knock on her door, forcing a smile.
The door swings open and a man with long hair covering half his face appears. He squints at me, a joint dangling from his chapped lips. Smoke curls around his head in a hazy cloud.
“Oh, sorry, I’m looking for Michelle Downey?”
He snickers, taking a long drag before blowingthe acrid smoke in my face. “Yo, Mich! Some uptight chick in a prissy dress here for you.” He turns and weaves back into the depths of the house without waiting for a response.
Real classy, Michelle.
I step inside and swallow hard. The place is packed with people. So much for an intimate gathering. It looks like Michelle invited half of San Jose.
Michelle weaves her way through the crowd until she reaches me. “Ava, you made it.” Her tone is surprised as if she never believed I would accept her invitation.
“No, I sent a hologram instead,” I say.
“Haha.” She takes the tray of sandwiches from me and plops it on the kitchen counter. “Come on, let’s get you a drink, and I’ll introduce you around.”
Then she grabs my hand and drags me into the living room. “Pete, Jennifer, Dom, Mick, Chantal, meet Ava. A friend from my wild college days.”
I raise my hand in a little wave and try to smile. The group lounges on the couch, bottles of booze littering the coffee table.
The long-haired guy, who I now know is named Mick, curls his lip. “What’s with the school uniform? Or maybe you raided your grandma’s closet before coming over?”
I glance at my dress. An elegant designer number that cost a few thousand dollars, hardly a school uniform. Not even close.
The redhead next to him—Jennifer—laughs. “That’s not a school outfit, Mick. She probably thinks she’s Audrey Hepburn or something. Were you born in the forties? Nice dress, though.”
“We get it, you have money,” Chantal says with a snicker. “You don’t need to wave it in our faces. You’ve got the wrong crowd for that. Wealth impresses no one here. Right, guys?”
I promised Michelle I would try to connect with her friends, but clearly, this is a lost cause.
“Sorry, I was born with good taste,” I mutter.
