Ava stirred awake, her head pounding like it was about to explode. Her stomach twisted with nausea. Groaning, she pushed herself out of bed, barely processing her surroundings as she stumbled toward the bathroom.
She found it just in time.
"Ugh…" The vomiting came hard and fast. Once, twice, three times—until she was gasping and gripping the cold white rim for balance. After a few minutes, the dizziness faded slightly, but her nerves still felt a little tingly.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Ava slowly made her way back out. But something felt… off. She glanced around.
Wait... This isn't my place.
Her brows furrowed. This room wasn't familiar. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it, but all she could do was shuffle toward the first bed she found and collapse face-first into the covers.
From across the room, Ethan Sterling had been watching.
He'd seen her accidentally stumble into his bedroom. At first, he'd wanted to see what she was up to—maybe something calculated, some attempt to seduce or manipulate him.
But no.
She passed out cold.
Unbelievable.
He sat up, ready to nudge her awake and send her packing, but before he could move, she threw the blanket off and bolted to the bathroom.
He followed and stood in the doorway, watching silently as she emptied her stomach into his toilet.
The next morning, Ava woke up with a dry mouth and a throbbing headache. She sat up groggily, still wearing the clothes from the night before.
Not great.She rubbed her temples and blinked at the room. It was quiet, modern, and—aside from the faint scent of cologne- completely silent. Definitely not hers.
She stepped out into the hallway cautiously.
The place was simple but sleek—soft neutral tones, sharp furniture, not a single decoration out of place. Elegant. Cold. Very... Ethan Sterling.
From the dining table, he looked up from his coffee.
"Hey. Over here."
Ava froze. He motioned her over without much effort. It wasn't until she approached that she realized—he didn't even remember her name.
"Sit. Eat. We're heading to the office soon. There are new toiletries in the guest bathroom—use whatever you need."
As he got up, draining the last of his coffee, he passed by her and asked casually, "What's your name again?"
"Huh? Oh, Ava. Ava Moore."
He gave a noncommittal grunt. "Right."
Later that morning, back at the office, Ethan buzzed her from his intercom.
"A cup of coffee."
Ava entered the office a few minutes later with a cup of hot tea.
"Here you go, sir."
Without glancing up, Ethan took a sip—then frowned.
"This is tea."
Ava stood her ground. "Coffee isn't great for your health."
He lowered the cup. "An assistant's job isn't to micromanage my health."
"But if your health collapses, then I don't get paid," she said bluntly, shrugging. "So, I'd argue it kind of is."
Before Ethan could respond, the door burst open without a knock.
Mason strolled in with a smirk, leaning lazily against the doorframe. "Wow. President Sterling's got someone nagging him about his diet? Looks like your life's about to change."
Ethan didn't flinch. "Get out."
Ava shot Mason a death glare as she passed him, barely resisting the urge to smack the grin off his face.
People say Mason is the ruthless one? she thought. Please. He's a fox. Ethan's the real wolf.
Once the door closed behind Ava, Mason's playful smile disappeared.
"Look," he said flatly, tossing a folder onto the desk. "Don't bring me into her mess again. I'm done with that."
He turned and left without waiting for a response. Clean. Final.
Ethan didn't argue. He knew Mason better than anyone. He knew how to control him, how to trigger him—and when he backed off, it was for a reason.
He sat back, fingers steepled under his chin.
"Moore, come in," he said into the intercom.
Ava returned a moment later.
"Send this to the design department," Ethan said, handing her the folder Mason had left.
"Oh—Okay," she said, taking it with both hands and heading out.