Chapter 5 Heat Lines

Ava barely slept that night; her apartment, usually her sanctuary, felt like a pressure cooker. The city buzzed beyond the glass, but her mind was louder.

Grayson Blackwood trusted her mind.

It was the kind of validation she'd clawed for over the years-yet the source made it volatile. He'd handed her the Halcyon merger like a loaded weapon, and Ava didn't know if she was meant to use it or if she was the target.

At 2 a.m., she was still at her kitchen island, blueprinting angles, competitors, risk spreads, and market value projections. It was the most invigorated she'd felt in months-and the most hunted. Because no matter how many times she blinked at the screen, she still saw him.

The way his voice had dropped. The way he'd said, "Even if I can't afford to trust anything else."

She didn't want his trust.

She wanted distance, Power, and maybe revenge.

By morning, her skin buzzed with caffeine and adrenaline as she stepped into the elevator, tablet in hand, heart barricaded behind silk and steel.

She passed Grayson's office without even a glance, though she felt his presence like heat through a wall.

Instead, she went straight to the pitch room-reserved for high-level strategy huddles she had set up early, lining the table with preliminary data charts and client profiles.

At 9:02 a.m., the door opened.

Grayson entered first, followed by two board members and one executive she didn't recognize- likely Halcyon's liaison. They nodded politely, and Grayson, professionally detached, introduced her as "Ms. Monroe, our lead strategist on this."

It was all by the book.

Except his eyes caught hers once-and Ava swore the room dropped a few degrees. No trace of last night's heat. Just ice, clean and blinding.

She delivered her presentation with precision, no tremors or stutters. Ava controlled the narrative with poise, offering projected growth figures and a five-year reintegration plan so compelling that by the time she reached the final slide, even the liaison leaned forward, murmuring, "Impressive."

The room broke into quiet discussion, and Ava excused herself under the guise of grabbing updated printouts. Reaching outside, she allowed herself one deep breath and then the door opened again, as Grayson stepped out, closing it behind him. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, and there was something in his eyes-less CEO, more man. The man she remembered.

"You were exceptional," he said softly.

"I know," she replied crisply. "Was there something else?"

Grayson hesitated, then stepped forward. "There's a difference between being good at your job and being irreplaceable, Ava. Today... you proved the latter."

Her chest tightened.

"I don't need praise," she said.

"It's not praise," he countered. "It's a warning."

That stopped her. "Warning?"

His jaw ticked. "The board likes you now. That's rare. They'll push harder. Expect more. And if you make one mistake, they'll pull it all back. Fast."

"I'm not afraid of hard," she said.

"No, you're afraid of letting people see you want something. Because if you want it, it can be taken." His words weren't cruel, but rather, they were intimate and precise.

She hated that he could see her like that.

"So why are you here, Grayson?" she whispered.

He stepped closer. "Because I can't be in that room another minute and not remember the way your voice sounded in the dark."

The breath punched from her lungs.

"Stop," she said. "You said this would stay buried."

"I lied."

Silence stretched between them, heated and sharp.

Then he leaned in just enough for only her to hear. "But I'll leave it all buried if you want me to. Just say it. Say the word, and I'll never mention it again."

Ava's hand trembled slightly at her side.

She could say it, bury it, lock this thing in a vault, and throw it into the Hudson.

But what terrified her most?

She didn't want to.

"I don't trust you," she said instead.

Grayson nodded slowly. "Good. Because trust gets people killed in my world."

Then, without another word, he turned and went back inside.

Ava stood frozen, heart pounding against the inside of her ribs like it wanted to escape.

Later that evening, when the office finally dimmed and the silence of after-hours crept in, Ava stayed behind as she needed the quiet. The distance from Grayson's stare and her traitorous reflection in the office glass.

So she began reviewing files, redrafted angles, and building a proposal skeleton so airtight it could've flown to Mars. And around 8 p.m., she rose to stretch and walked to the window overlooking Manhattan.

Below, the city shimmered like it was made of heat lines-blurring and bending things that should be clear, and behind her, the elevator dinged.

So she turned, only for her to find Grayson standing there, his tie loosened, hair tousled like he'd been pulling at itand for the first time since the bar, he didn't look like a CEO.

He looked like a man breaking his own rules.

"I shouldn't be here," he said.

"You're not," she replied. "You're at work."

Grayson let out a low laugh, stepping in, closing the distance between them in three slow strides. "Then why does it feel like a sin?"

Her mouth parted, but no sound came out.

"I told myself I'd walk away," he said. "But here I am."

"You're dangerous," she murmured.

He reached up, tracing a single finger down her arm. "So are you."

And then, without asking, without apologizing, he kissed her.

It wasn't like before, where they were both drunk and desperate. This time, it was a control meeting on fire. A clash of two people who knew exactly what they were risking.

Then her back hit the window, his hands framing her jaw as she clutched his shirt, not to pull him closer, but to keep herself from flying apart.

When he pulled back, they were both breathing like they'd run miles.

"This doesn't go past tonight," she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I'll take whatever you're willing to give," he said, voice raw.

They stood there, suspended, not just by heat, but something worse.

Emotion.

And Ava knew this wasn't casual or lust, it was a line neither of them should have crossed.

But they had, and the fire was only getting hotter.