Chapter 118 The Perfect Mask
Ava sat gracefully at the edge of the long banquet table, her champagne untouched, her posture flawless as ever, every inch the picture of poise. But her mind wasn't on the conversation around her.
Across the room, Ethan stood beside Lena.
He wasn't smiling, he never really did, but there was a noticeable ease about him, a quiet warmth that softened his otherwise cold exterior. He leaned slightly closer as Lena spoke, his gaze steady, attentive. When a waiter passed too near, Ethan shifted subtly, placing himself between them, his hand brushing Lena's back just long enough to guide her aside.
It was the kind of small, instinctive gesture Ava had seen countless men make toward her, a sign of interest, of care. But from Ethan? The man who had barely spared her a full sentence since the evening began. That was new.
Ava's lips pressed together, her chest tightening with something unfamiliar, irritation, maybe even envy. She had been the one people looked at, the one who drew eyes the moment she entered a room. But tonight, no one's gaze seemed to matter except his, and he wasn't looking at her.
Not even once.
She shifted in her seat, trying to appear unbothered as a few high-standing men approached, faces she recognized instantly,
"Ava, you look breathtaking tonight," one of them said smoothly.
She smiled faintly, polite but distracted. "Thank you."
Another leaned in. "You must introduce us to your designer sometime...."
"Of course," she interrupted before he could finish, her voice clipped. Her eyes were already back on Ethan.
"He was listening to Lena speak, and for a long moment, he said nothing, simply watched her, his eyes following every subtle movement of her hands, the way her lips curved when she laughed softly. When she tilted her head slightly, as if unsure of something, he leaned just a fraction closer, mirroring her posture almost instinctively. His hand brushed lightly against the edge of the table near hers, careful but deliberate, as if he couldn't help staying near her.
Ava's stomach twisted. Lena hadn't done anything dramatic, she was simply being herself, and yet Ethan's attention was completely hers. The soft, almost imperceptible way he leaned in, the quiet patience in his gaze, the way he seemed to shrink the world down, so it contained only her... it made Ava's chest tighten in a way she hadn't expected.
Excuse me," she murmured, standing abruptly. The men exchanged puzzled looks as she brushed past them, her heels tapping sharply against the marble. She needed air, or at least distance from the sight that was fast becoming unbearable.
From her new spot near the bar, she caught one last glimpse of them, Ethan steady beside Lena, his usual restraint shadowed by something gentler.
And for the first time in forever, Ava felt the sharp sting of being invisible.
The air outside was cooler than she expected, Ava drew in a slow breath, wrapping her arms around herself as if the chill alone were the reason she'd stepped out. But it wasn't. She had needed distance, from the noise, from the eyes, and most of all, from him.
Ethan Sinclair.
She could still see him clearly in her mind, tall, composed, that faint, unreadable calm on his face as he stood beside Lena. It wasn't just that he was looking at her; it was how he looked. Focused. Attentive. As though she were the only person in the room worth hearing.
And that, that was what burned.
Ava had grown up in the spotlight. The only child of a wealthy family, she'd been adored since birth, complimented, photographed, praised. Every room she entered seemed to adjust its attention to her. And she had learned early that beauty was power, and she knew how to wield it.
When she became a model, it wasn't ambition that drove her, it was instinct. The world had always looked her way; she merely gave it something beautiful to look at. She was used to being seen, admired, wanted.
But tonight, for the first time in forever, she had met a man who didn't seem even slightly mesmerized by her. Ethan hadn't looked at her once. Not out of rudeness, not even out of restraint, simply out of indifference.
And that indifference cut deeper than any insult could have.
Ava let out a shaky breath, her expression hardening as she glanced back through the glass doors. Inside, the laughter continued, and so did Ethan, still standing close to Lena, still unaware of the storm he had stirred in her.
It wasn't just irritation anymore. It was intrigue. That quiet indifference, the way he seemed utterly immune to her usual charm, awakened something in her, a challenge she had never faced. She had been admired, desired, fawned over, and now she was met with... nothing.
Nothing.
A small, sharp smile curved her lips. The thought made her chest tighten in a delicious, almost maddening way. If everyone else had been mesmerized by her all her life, if attention had always come easily, then Ethan Sinclair was the first man who had refused to be bought by beauty, wit, or status.
And that refusal, that calm, unshakable indifference made her want him even more.
Ava's mind began racing. If he wouldn't notice her naturally, she would have to work smarter.
Ava's reflection glimmered faintly in the glass door before her, flawless, composed, radiant under the faint outdoor lighting. She stared at herself for a long moment, her jaw tightening.
What did Lena have that she didn't?
Her mind spun, restless and defensive. Lena was pretty, yes, but not striking. Not remarkable. Ava had walked runways, graced magazine covers, worn brands most women only dreamed of. She knew how to command a room, with a glance, with posture, with silence. People noticed her; they always noticed her.
And yet Ethan hadn't.
She rubbed her temple, the disbelief tightening in her chest. He must have a type; she told herself bitterly. Maybe he likes simple women. The quiet, shy ones who don't challenge him.
The thought should have comforted her, but it didn't. It only made her angrier.
Because even if Lena was quiet, there was something about her that had caught Ethan's attention, something Ava couldn't name, and that terrified her more than she wanted to admit.
Her gaze flicked toward the ballroom again, eyes narrowing slightly as she spotted them through the glass. Ethan said something, and Lena smiled, not the rehearsed kind of smile Ava had mastered over the years, but a soft, genuine one.
It unsettled her.
Ava's lips curved, though not in amusement. A faint, deliberate smile, sharp around the edges.
Fine. If Ethan was drawn to that girl, then she would find out why.
She straightened, brushing imaginary lint from her dress, her mind already shifting gears. She wasn't the type to retreat or lick her wounds. If she couldn't draw his attention directly, she'd go through Lena instead. Get close, observe, and learn what it was that made Ethan, the cold, untouchable Ethan Sinclair, lower his guard.
And once she knew, she'd make him look her way.
One way or another.
With that thought, Ava turned back toward the doors, her expression once again poised and unbothered, the perfect mask. No one watching her would guess the storm that brewed behind her eyes.