Chapter 2 Unlisted and Unbothered

Ava didn't chase people. She delegated, she commanded, she orchestrated chaos into elegance-but she never ran after uninvited men in designer suits who didn't know how to answer a simple question. And yet here she was, heels slicing over limestone as she followed the man in black into Victor Leclair's private villa like some reckless intern with a clipboard. He had walked past her, walked past security, and walked straight into an event Ava had spent six sleepless weeks building from the bones up. No one did that. Not unless they belonged in ways that made everyone else pretend not to see.

Inside, the air was crisp with subtle cologne and chilled champagne. Gold light spilled down from crystal chandeliers. Somewhere in the distance, a jazz quartet played something slow and expensive. Ava caught a glimpse of his back as he disappeared into the far wing of the house. "Stop him," she said sharply to the nearest security man. The guard gave her a look she didn't like. Not quite amused. Not quite scared. "I can't, ma'am." She blinked. "You can't?" He hesitated. "He's... internal. Direct access." Internal? Bullshit. Victor didn't let anyone walk around with "direct access." Not even his personal assistant-who'd once cried in Ava's office because the boss ghosted her for three months. Ava straightened. "Then tell me his name." "I can't do that either." "Because you don't know it?" Because you're scared? The man didn't answer. Ava turned away, fury bubbling under her skin. This wasn't just a breach-it was a power play. And someone was using her event to make it. --- She stormed back to her operations suite-a makeshift command center hidden behind one of the guest rooms-and slammed the door shut. Pulled out her laptop. Fingers flew across the keys. No one with that face had checked in. No early arrivals. No late additions. No "Kai." She didn't even have a last name to cross-reference. But one thing was clear-he knew exactly who she was. And he hadn't just walked in like he owned the place. He had looked at her like she was the reason he came. --- By sundown, the island glowed. Lanterns floated over the infinity pool. Waiters in cream suits passed trays of caviar and saffron-dusted oysters. A string of elite guests toasted under the stars, rich with laughter and richer with secrets. Ava moved like smoke through the event, greeting people by name, solving problems before they formed, her headset whispering crisis after crisis in her ear. A spilled cocktail here. A diplomatic faux pas there. Nothing she couldn't fix. But in the back of her mind, he was still there. Somewhere in the crowd. Watching. Waiting. Unlisted. Unbothered. --- She found him again just after nine. He was standing alone on the edge of the upper balcony, drink untouched, his posture loose but guarded-like a man always five seconds away from disappearing. The moon hit the lines of his face and made him look carved. Ava hated how beautiful he was. Not in a polished, socialite way-but in the raw, dangerous way of a man who didn't have to speak to be heard. She crossed the terrace, her dress rustling with purpose. No clipboard now. No smile. "I don't appreciate being toyed with," she said flatly. He turned toward her, slowly. His expression didn't change. "Then don't play." Her jaw tightened. "You walked into a billion-dollar event without clearance. I don't care who you think you are-" "I didn't walk in," he interrupted. "I was let in." "By whom?" "Does it matter?" "Yes." He studied her. "Not to the people who matter." Ava's pulse flickered in her throat. "So you do have a name." He lifted his glass, untouched. "You're still asking the wrong question." "Then what's the right one?" A long pause. The kind that tasted like foreplay or war. Finally, he said, "Why did Victor Leclair invite you?" She frowned. "I'm the planner. I was hired." "No." His gaze didn't waver. "Victor never hires strangers. Not without reason." She stiffened. "I'm very good at what I do." "I'm sure you are," he said softly. "But that's not the reason." Ava stepped forward, tension coiling under her skin. "And what's yours? You're not on any record. Not on the roster. You have no last name. So what exactly are you doing here?" His eyes finally warmed-just a flicker, a fire beneath the ice. "Protecting an investment." She narrowed her gaze. "What kind of investment?" "You." The word hit her in the chest. Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the blur of tuxedos and diamonds like he was never there.