Chapter 3

The Hamiltons were not pleased about the Astor rejection.

"Ava, what on earth did you do?" Mrs. Hamilton demanded at dinner, the crystal goblets trembling slightly. "Julian Astor found you 'unsuitable' ! Unsuitable! After all our efforts."

I existed, Ava thought. And apparently, my existence craves cheeseburgers too loudly for his delicate sensibilities.

Mr. Hamilton chimed in, "This reflects poorly on the family, Ava. Your one task was to be charming."

Charming is easy. Resisting the urge to describe the perfect al pastor taco I had last week is hard.

The pressure mounted. Ava was expected to attend more luncheons, more charity committees, to be seen, to be perfect. Her every move was scrutinized.

Her internal focus, however, remained stubbornly fixed on a new artisanal donut shop, "Glaze of Glory," that had just opened. Their Instagram feed was a siren song of maple bacon crullers and passionfruit filled brioche.

One afternoon, trapped at a mind-numbingly dull garden party hosted by a Van der Woodson, Ava felt the craving hit hard.

I can' t take another cucumber sandwich. My soul needs sugar. That raspberry rose donut... it calls to me.

She subtly checked her phone. The shop closed in an hour.

"Excuse me," Ava murmured to her bewildered hostess, "a sudden... urgent family matter."

She practically sprinted out, her heels clicking on the flagstone path. She made it to "Glaze of Glory" with minutes to spare, emerging with a box of six assorted masterpieces.

The escape was glorious, the first bite of a salted caramel donut pure bliss.

Then, disaster.

As she turned a corner, practically inhaling a chocolate lavender confection, she walked straight into Rhys Donovan.

Rhys, Julian Astor's charming, witty half-brother, owner of a popular bookstore-cafe chain, and Ava' s childhood friend. He knew her too well.

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, Ava Chen. Solving an urgent family matter with a box of donuts? What would Mummy Hamilton say?"

Powdered sugar dusted her chin. The rich aroma of fried dough and sweet glaze clung to her. Her sophisticated facade was, for a moment, utterly compromised.

"It's... research," Ava improvised, trying to regain her composure. "For a... a potential catering venture."

Rhys laughed. "Catering venture? Ava, you wouldn't know a whisk from a wrench. And you smell like a bakery exploded on you."

Damn it. He' s right. My Chanel No. 5 is completely overpowered by 'Eau de Donut' .

She tried to deflect. "Actually, Rhys, these are for you. A surprise. I know how much you love... experimental pastry."

He took the box, peered inside, and picked out the largest, most decadent one. "You expect me to believe you, the queen of cool detachment, bought these for me? Ava, you' re a terrible liar, but you have excellent taste in stress-eating fuel."

Skyler, who had apparently followed Ava from the garden party, suspicious of her sudden departure, appeared around the corner.

"Aha! Caught you, Ava!" Skyler declared triumphantly. "Stuffing your face with cheap sugar instead of networking. So much for your sophisticated act."

Ava quickly tried to salvage the situation, thinking fast. "Skyler, darling, Rhys was just telling me about his new... philanthropic initiative. Supplying artisanal baked goods to... underprivileged CEOs. It' s very noble."

Rhys choked on his donut, trying to suppress a laugh.

Skyler stared, utterly confused. "Underprivileged CEOs?"

Ava nodded sagely. "It's a niche market."

She bought it. Or she' s too confused to argue. Win-win.