Chapter 104 City Lights
Ava Meniate, twenty-eight, was the kind of woman who seemed born to be noticed. Not just for her striking features, high cheekbones, almond-shaped green eyes, a subtle curve to her lips that hinted at amusement even when she wasn't smiling, but for the quiet command she carried in every room. At the peak of her modeling career, she had graced countless magazine covers, walked for every major designer, and had campaigns that paid more in a single month than most would see in a lifetime. But fame alone didn't define her.
She was also the product of wealth, born into a family whose influence stretched through finance, real estate, and international philanthropy. Ava had grown up in penthouses and private jets, in a world where the elite moved like water, untouchable, and always slightly out of reach. That upbringing had shaped her in subtle ways: a sense of poise, an instinct for negotiation, a certainty that the world could bend if she demanded it. She wasn't arrogant; she was confident, the difference being that she had learned the world would notice when she moved.
Ava sat in her Manhattan apartment, overlooking the skyline, sunlight bouncing off the glass and steel around her. She wore a cream Balmain blazer over a pale silk camisole, high-waisted Alexander McQueen trousers that fell perfectly over her legs, and simple gold jewelry that spoke of refined taste rather than ostentation. Her hair fell in loose, effortless waves, and her makeup was minimal yet striking, emphasizing her natural elegance rather than masking it. She looked the part of a woman who had everything: beauty, talent, wealth, and influence.
And yet, she had paused mid-scroll.
Ethan Sinclair.
The photograph had stopped her in her tracks. He was standing in a navy suit, hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm but magnetic. The quiet intensity in his eyes, the controlled confidence in his posture, it was impossible to ignore. Ava lifted her phone and showed it to her friend Lila, who was lounging with a latte in hand.
"Wow," Ava murmured, letting herself linger on the image. "Look at him."
Lila glanced casually at the screen. "Oh... that's Ethan Sinclair."
Ava arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? That's him?"
"The CEO of Sinclair Group," Lila said. "Global empire. Acquisitions, expansions... the kind of guy who makes billions while you blink. And, yeah... ridiculously handsome."
Ava smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Hmm. Interesting," she said softly, a playful glint in her eye. "I like him."
Lila laughed, shaking her head. "You like him? Ava... he's married."
Ava's smile didn't falter. She rested her chin in her hand, her voice calm and amused. "Married doesn't matter," she said lightly. "I've always ... gotten what I want. When I walk into rooms full of people, they notice me. Men, women, doesn't matter. Attention follows me. And something about him... he's different. But challenges are my specialty."
Lila raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "So this is a challenge now?"
Ava's lips curved in a slow, confident smile. "Exactly. And I don't shy away from challenges."
She set her phone down for a moment, letting herself reflect. Videos of him kept appearing on her feed, interviews, speeches, boardroom clips. She studied them, not with obsession, but with fascination. The way he commanded attention without speaking loudly, the way subtle gestures seemed to assert control, the precision in his words. Each glimpse drew her in further, a quiet thrill she allowed herself to savor.
"I followed him," she said finally, picking up her phone. "But he hasn't followed me back yet."
"And that bothers you?" Lila teased.
Ava shook her head, the corner of her mouth tilting in amusement. "Not at all. He'll notice me. And when he does... It'll be interesting."
Ava shifted on the edge of her chair, swirling the champagne in her glass as her gaze returned to Ethan's image. She had always been in control, her life, her career, her choices. Suitors came and went like waves; wealthy men, influential men, men whose names alone carried weight. Invitations to private galas, exclusive dinners, and social events where marriages were brokered as casually as contracts. She had said no more times than she could count.
"I don't want to get married," she often told them. Firmly. Repeatedly. With a smile that left no room for argument. She valued her independence too highly, her freedom to travel, to work, to make choices unbound by someone else's expectations. And yet... here she was.
Ethan Sinclair.
A man she had never met, whose name alone carried enough weight to make boardrooms pause. And yet, she felt an unexpected tug, a fascination she hadn't allowed herself before. It wasn't just that he was handsome, though he was, undeniably, but that he radiated authority, intelligence, and a magnetism that couldn't be faked.
Ava found herself lingering over every detail she could find: the way he moved in a room, the subtle gestures of power in his interviews, the way people seemed to react to him even when he wasn't aware. It was intoxicating, in a way that made her chest tighten and her mind whirl.
Her friend Lila noticed the change immediately. "You're... fawning," she said, laughing. "You? Fawning over a man? That doesn't sound like you."
Ava smiled, shaking her head, amused by how clearly her feelings were showing. "I'm not fawning," she said softly, though her own voice betrayed the thrill. "It's... curiosity. Admiration. And maybe... a little challenge."
She leaned back, letting herself revel in the rare vulnerability she usually kept hidden. A man could intrigue her, yes, but she had never allowed herself to be drawn in like this. Not since she had made the decision, years ago, that marriage was not for her. Not until now.
"Married," Lila reminded her again, as if it would snap her back to reality.
Ava waved it off, more amused than defensive. "Married doesn't matter," she said.
Ava leaned back in her chair, letting the afternoon sun wash over her. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to meet him, to see those eyes in person, to measure his presence against the effortless confidence she carried herself. But even as the thought lingered, her phone buzzed insistently on the marble table. She glanced at the screen: her manager, Miranda, calling from Paris.
With a small, amused sigh, Ava answered. "Yes, Miranda?"
"You have a fitting in thirty minutes for the Valentino campaign," Miranda said briskly, the urgency in her voice a reminder of the empire Ava had built around herself. "The team is already waiting, and the designer wants the first look."
"Perfect," Ava replied, finishing her sip of champagne. She set the glass down, smoothing her cream blazer over her silk camisole, and stood. The city stretched beneath her in waves of light, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself glance at Ethan's image on her phone once more, a playful smile curling her lips.
She tucked the device into her bag and strode toward the door, heels clicking against the polished floor. Work, as always, demanded her attention, and she had long learned that ambition would never wait. Ethan Sinclair might be fascinating, magnetic, even a challenge she was curious to take on, but for now, the runway and the campaigns called her. Tomorrow, she promised herself she would return to him. For now, the world could wait.