Chapter 6: Fractures in the Glass
MARCUS'S POV
The room was perfumed with Isabelle's newest obsession…peonies. Their fragrance permeated our VIP lounge. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, catching the diamond ring on her finger as she tapped on her tablet.
"Hydrangeas or orchids for the centerpieces, darling? The florist needs an answer"
Flashback (Two Weeks Ago)
Rain lashed against the windows of the café. Ava sat across from me, leaning over a napkin, drawing frenziedly with a charcoal pencil. The day following Victoria's coffee incident, she had appeared fragile, like a deer startled. I'd texted her on the spur of the moment: Congrats on Sterling. Coffee? No family drama, I promise.
"Thanks for stopping by," she muttered, eyes still on her drawing, voice tense but earnest. That firmness in her voice, it took me aback.
Our fingers brushed as I reached for the sugar. A shock ran my arm. Her eyes lifted… big, hazel, and burning with a look meeting mine too long.
"Why?" she said. Her voice broke a bit. "Why'd you recommend me for the job?"
Because talent this fierce needs backup," I told her. "Let me be that."
My thumb gently erased a smudge of charcoal from her hand. She didn't pull away. The air vibrated between us.
"Marcus? Orchids or hydrangeas?"
Isabelle's voice brought me back. Her smile was peaceful, satisfied, unaware of the emotional hand grenade I had inside me. I could still feel the warmth of Ava on my skin. Guilt churned in my chest, cold and sharp.
Later on Sterling Tower Rooftop, the garden remained above the sounds of the city, glowing in soft twilight. Ava was at the railing, with sunlight perishing behind her, so that she appeared as part of a painting. The wind tugged loose strands of her hair. She looked too young, too vulnerable. Whatever Victoria had said, it was clearly a blow.
"She said they chew people like me up," Ava said, her voice raspy. "And then spit out the bones. Was she right?"
I stepped closer, quiet, like a moth to fire. Her scent wafted up to me, vanilla and sweat, mixed with night jasmine.
“Victoria devours whatever would dare to challenge her, Ava. You are not prey." My hand reached out of its own accord, almost touching her shoulder. I pulled it back and balled my hand into a fist. She's Isabelle's daughter. Your wife's daughter.
"You're a storm," I said to her. "Storms change everything they touch.
She turned to face me slowly. Her eyes flickered with fear and boldness. “Julian thinks I’m a broken design. Caleb sees me as some riddle he can’t solve. But you…” She paused, eyes locked on mine. “You see something different.”
The pull between us was real. Physical. Like a wire stretched tight between our bodies.
"I see you," I said, my voice low, swallowed in the sounds of the city. Her breath caught. "Not Isabelle's daughter. I see the artist who draws truth. Who sketches what most people are too afraid to look at."
I erased a tear streak from her cheek. Her skin was soft, like nothing I should ever touch. I should have stopped.
"That vision of yours? It scares people like Victoria. That's why she'll try to break you."
Her lips parted, breath uneven. Her eyes searched mine, wide with fear and something else. The space between us vanished. I could feel her heartbeat in the air. My own heart pounded.
Kiss her. Claim her. Let her know she's not alone.
The urge hit me like a lightning bolt. I leaned in just a little and there was Victoria. Red silk dress, oiled smile, smelling of Chanel and something more dangerous.
"Mentoring the new star, Marcus?" Her voice sliced the moment in two. "Sweet. Though perhaps…not a little too close?"
I stepped back, abruptly. The cold air ripped between Ava and me, shutting the door.
My smile was false and tight. "Just reminding our newest recruit of her value. In spite of the doubters."
Victoria's smile was ugly. "Her 'vision' is adorable, Marcus. But it's frail. Sterling needs something stronger. When the world shows her how ugly it really is" She leaned in, eyes moving back and forth between Ava's face and mine. "I wonder which side she will be on.
Then she left, with pride and poison trailing behind her.
Later, I walked Ava down to her waiting cab. Neon lights played over her features, making her look ghost-like, too pale. I couldn't shake Victoria's warning… or the feel of Ava's skin, the way she'd looked at me like I mattered.
Keep her safe. That was the promise I'd made, even if no one but me heard the words.
"Here," I snarled, jaw tight. I forced a clean business card into her hand. My personal number on the back. I did not let her go. My hand wrapped around hers, firm.
Another shock ran through me, low and primal.
Her eyes on mine were full of confusion, anger, and something softer.
"Why?" she breathed, breath hitching.
My other hand came up. I cupped her cheek, gently. Her skin warmed my palm. She gasped, and I felt it all the way down through me.
Say it. Say she matters. Say you'd burn the world to keep her whole.
"Because you're not supposed to be broken," I rasped. "You're not here to be used and thrown away."
I gazed down at her lips. Full. Close. A breath away. My heart screamed to close the distance.
But I didn't.
I jerked back as if scalded.
She got into the cab. The card still grasped in her hand, her knuckles white. The door shut.
The taxi drove off.
And I stood there, frozen, the spot on my hand where she'd touched still warm… and hurting.
Victoria's words echoed in my mind.
And I knew, in the worst possible way: the cracks weren't just in the high glass skyscrapers around me. They were in me too. And they were spreading.
