The silence between them stretched like a taut wire, fragile and ready to snap.
Ava Reid sat on the edge of the plush leather couch in Ares's penthouse, her fingers gripping the hem of her oversized sweater. The city skyline sparkled behind her through the towering glass windows, but her focus was entirely on the cold, unreadable man standing a few feet away.
Ares.
He hadn't said a word since dinner. Not since their heated exchange in the hallway. Not since she'd nearly admitted something she couldn't explain even to herself.
"You're angry," Ava said softly, breaking the tension like a dropped glass.
Ares turned to her slowly, his jaw tense. "I'm not angry. I'm… reminding myself this is a contract, Ava. A performance. Nothing more."
The words hit harder than they should have. Ava swallowed. "You made it real, at the press conference. You held my hand like it meant something."
"It did," he admitted. Then added, with a shrug too casual to be honest, "To the cameras."
Her eyes darkened. "You kissed me."
He nodded, eyes not leaving hers. "Because I had to."
She stood, too fast, the movement making her dizzy. "You didn't have to look at me like that."
He didn't respond, but the twitch in his jaw said more than words could.
Ares walked to the marble bar and poured himself a drink — whiskey, neat — then leaned back against the counter, watching her with a gaze that made her feel like a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"You said you needed this arrangement to keep your grandfather's company," she said, voice trembling slightly. "I said yes because I needed the money for my brother's treatment. But now… you're acting like I'm the one who crossed a line."
"You're getting too comfortable," he said after a beat, swirling the amber liquid. "You're starting to think there's something romantic about this marriage."
Ava blinked, stunned. "You're the one who called me your wife in front of reporters. The one who holds doors open for me when no one's watching. The one who gets quiet when I talk about my past. You don't get to blame me for confusing lines you're the one blurring."
He stepped closer. "That's the problem. You're not supposed to see me. Not like that."
Ava's breath caught.
For a moment, the mask Ares wore — the confident billionaire, the untouchable heir — cracked. And beneath it was something raw. Wounded.
"Then tell me," she said, stepping into his space. "What am I to you, really?"
The silence roared louder than the wind outside the windows.
"You're…" he began, but the words refused to come. "You're Ava. The girl I married by mistake."
A pause.
"But you're also the only person who doesn't want anything from me… and that scares the hell out of me."
Her lips parted.
The ice between them melted just slightly. Enough for something dangerous and tender to bloom.
But then, his phone rang — sharp and jarring.
Ares stepped back like the moment had burned him. He checked the screen. "It's Lucien. I have to take this."
And just like that, the walls slammed up again.
Ava turned away before he could see the disappointment on her face. She walked toward the guest room, gripping the doorknob, whispering more to herself than to him:
"If we're just playing a role, Ares… why does it hurt so much to be forgotten?"
Behind her, the man who claimed to feel nothing… didn't answer.
Because he couldn't.
Not when the sound of her voice lingered in the silence more painfully than anything she'd said out loud.