As soon as they stepped out of the godforsaken restaurant, Ava inhaled like a woman who had just escaped war.
She was still mentally recovering from the two-hour-long dinner—one hour of which was spent watching Zeke count his miserable collection of loose change to pay for their $499.99 bill.
"How was the food, sugar?" Zeke asked as they made their way toward Ava's car, which had been strategically parked far away to avoid unnecessary attention.
The streets were quieter now, the once-busy sidewalks almost deserted. Probably because people had heard Zeke's voice and fled for their lives.
Ava barely glanced at him as she shrugged like a jaded restaurant critic.
"Meh. I barely tasted the dish. It's microscopic, for heaven's sake!"
Zeke chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like he was genuinely apologetic.
"Yeah... I'm sorry," he muttered, and for once, there was something off about his tone.
Ava slowed her steps, side-eyeing him with suspicion.
Was this... regret? No. Impossible. This was Zeke Ford. The only thing he regretted in life was probably not hitting on more women in high school.
But then—he continued.
"I wish I could invite you again next time when my card is already okay, but that'll only happen after..."
He trailed off, still smiling, but there was a flicker of something different in his eyes—something Ava couldn't quite place.
Sadness?
Guilt?
Remorse for existing? Hopefully.
Then, with a halfhearted chuckle, he finished:
"...After I marry your sister. Probably a few days from now, so dating you again is never gonna happen hehe."
Zeke stuffed both hands into his pockets, his posture a little too nonchalant for someone about to be dragged into holy matrimony with Eva Summers, certified villainess and chaos incarnate.
He subtly nudged his arm closer, like he wanted Ava to wrap her hand around it, but she immediately shot him a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.
"Try that again, and I'll break your bones, Ford."
Zeke immediately backed off, muttering something about how violence was never the answer, but damn, was it attractive coming from her.
Then, just as Ava thought the night couldn't get weirder, his entire demeanor shifted.
His usual flirty bastard act vanished, replaced with an intensity she wasn't used to seeing on him.
"I actually asked Lord and Lady Summers to marry you instead," he admitted. "But they refused… fearing I might ruin your perfect life."
Ava stopped walking.
For a brief moment, the world tilted.
Not because of the confession—she had long accepted that her parents treated her like a golden investment rather than an actual daughter—but because...
Did Zeke Ford just say something shockingly un-stupid?
No, she must have heard it wrong.
Ava finally turned to him—her gaze settling, not on his face, but on his neck.
More specifically—the mole on his neck.
The horribly placed, oddly distracting mole that had a single hair swinging dramatically from the top of it.
Ava's stomach churned. Suddenly, she no longer cared about Zeke's confession. She only cared about that damn mole.
Zeke noticed her staring and tilted his head. "Sugar? You okay?"
Ava fought the urge to dry heave.
"Y-Yeah. I just..." she swallowed. "I just need you to wax your damn neck before I file a restraining order."
Zeke blinked. Then he grinned like a devil.
"Ah, sugar... staring at my neck so intensely? If you wanted to leave a love bite, you could've just asked."
Ava's eye twitched so hard she almost suffered a stroke.
Without another word, she stomped toward her car, leaving Zeke chuckling behind her like the menace to society he was.
As soon as the words "Hey! Sugar, wait!" left Zeke's mouth, Ava's fight-or-flight instincts activated.
And by that, she meant her fight instincts—because flight was for cowards, and she was not about to let this man walk her home like some rom-com male lead.
"I can actually drive you home if you want," Zeke continued, voice dripping with faux chivalry.
Ava didn't even look back as she swatted the air.
"I'd rather not," she hissed, marching toward her car with purpose. "You might kidnap me or whatever. Who knows how that tiny brain of yours functions."
Behind her, Zeke only chuckled.
"I'll be going this way then," he said, his voice audibly shifting in the opposite direction.
Ava didn't bother responding—her priority was escaping this nightmarish dinner, erasing the mental image of Zeke's tragically hairy neck mole, and calling Zach the moment she got inside her car.
After all, Zeke had already given her the number.
Not without making a big, dramatic show of it, of course—complete with an exaggerated sigh, a speech about how she was "so lucky" to have his help, and a wink that made Ava contemplate violence.
Still, she had what she needed. Now all she had to do was go home, pour herself a glass of wine, and pretend this night never happened.
But just as she reached for her car door—
Something felt... off.
Ava paused.
Her car looked... different.
It was subtle, but the shade of black seemed slightly off from before.
"...That's strange," she muttered.
Still, she didn't think much of it and went to swing the door open only for it to be yanked open first.
Ava barely had time to react before two masked figures in all black grabbed her and dragged her inside.
"OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME—!"
The car door slammed shut and Ava's scream was cut off as she immediately started thrashing, her fists and legs a blur of fury.
She may have been wearing a dress, but that did not mean she was about to go down without breaking someone's ribcage.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Ava yelled, kicking wildly.
"STOP MOVING!" one of the masked figures growled, struggling to contain her.
But as Ava continued elbowing and kneeing everything in her range, she suddenly noticed something odd.
They were... weak. Like, unreasonably weak. And then—she accidentally elbowed one of them in the chest.
The resulting pained groan was way too high-pitched. Ava's brain connected the dots instantly.
"Y-You're women," she stated, momentarily stopping her struggle.
The two masked figures also froze then—
"WE'RE NOT TELLING YOU!" one of them blurted out.
A beat of silence. The other masked figure and Ava slowly turned their heads toward the speaker.
The masked figure who spoke blinked innocently. "What?"
"Ahh you son of a—" the other one growled, slapping her forehead.
Ava's eyes narrowed. "Eva, you son of a—!" Before she could finish verbally eviscerating her sister, a sudden sharp sting pierced her neck.
Her body instantly went numb. Ava gasped, her vision tilting as the drug kicked in fast.
Her last coherent thought before blacking out was: Oh, I'm gonna kill you and your descendants, you motherfu—
And then—everything went dark.
It felt like only a few minutes had passed since Ava lost consciousness, but when her eyes slowly fluttered open, she realized something was very, very wrong.
For one—she was lying on a bed.
A soft, ridiculously comfortable bed.
The kind of bed rich people had. The kind of bed that made you think, Wow, this is nice—right before remembering you'd been kidnapped and were probably about to be held for ransom.
Ava blinked.
And then blinked again.
Her vision adjusted to the dim room, and she finally took in her surroundings:
Silk sheets. Expensive decor. Suspiciously romantic mood lighting.
And then—
Her gaze landed on something.
No. Someone.
Ava's breath caught.
There, lying peacefully beside her, was a man.
A topless, fucking man.
His bare chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and despite the soft glow of the lamps, she could make out the defined lines of muscle.
His arms were sprawled out, one dangerously close to touching her.
His face was half-buried in the pillow, but even then, Ava could tell—he was unfairly attractive. For a split second, her brain short-circuited.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU—"
The man stirred.
Ava froze.
The stranger let out a low, sleepy groan, his muscles flexing slightly as he shifted positions.
And then, with a sigh that was far too sensual for this situation, he mumbled:
"Mmm… morning, beautiful."
Ava's entire body stiffened.
Oh. Hell. No.
She knew that voice.
She would rather die than not recognize that voice. Slowly—with all the horror of someone realizing they had made a terrible, terrible mistake—Ava turned her head.
And there, grinning at her with all the smugness of a man who deserved to be drop-kicked into the sun—
Was Zeke Ford.
The room was calm. Too calm. Then, Zeke's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he felt at peace. The bed was soft. The air smelled nice. Life was good.
Then, he turned his head and locked eyes with Ava.
Oh. Panic punched him square in the gut.
Ava's eyes bulged.
Zeke's breath hitched.
Ava's face twisted in horror.
Zeke's brain went, holy shit, but it's Ava so—
For a solid five seconds, neither of them moved then— "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" Ava screamed, grabbing the nearest pillow and slamming it against her chest thinking that she has been stripped naked, but thankfully, she's still wearing her dress, just a little dragged.
Zeke got tangled in the blanket and tried to scoot away, so he ended up rolling off the bed like a human burrito.
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" he screamed back, matching her decibel for decibel.
"YOU—YOU FILTHY SWINE!" Ava shrieked, now reaching for anything within grabbing distance.
"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—"
Too late as he pillow already went flying—Zeke dodged.
The bedside telephone—Zeke ducked.
The decorative candle— "SUGAR, HAVE MERCY—"
Then Ava's hand found the lampshade. Zeke's entire life flashed before his eyes.
"AVA, NO!" He gasped.
"AVA, YES!" Ava nodded in rage then the lampshade soared through the air in slow motion.
Zeke tried to dodge.
He almost succeeded.
Almost.
Because the lampshade didn't hit his head., it hit something much, much worse.
Direct. Impact. To. The. Family. Jewels.
Zeke collapsed instantly. A broken, shattered man. Ava, victorious, stood on the bed like a war goddess.