ššš ššš:
āā¦Then said, never ask Ava to do something like this again, or I will murder you and your entire family,ā Jules finished dramatically before taking a sip of her caramel mocha.āShut up.ā Stella leaned forward, her eyes wide. āHe did not say that.āāNo, he didnāt.ā I shot Jules a disapproving look. āStop exaggerating.āāHow would you know? You were in the bathroom,ā she countered. When my frown deepened, she sighed. āFine. He didnāt say those exact wordsāat least, not the last partābut the general idea was the same. He did warn Owen away from you though.ā Jules ripped off a piece of her cranberry scone and popped it in her mouth.āPoor Owen.ā Guilt niggled at me as I traced absentminded patterns on the table. Jules, Stella, Bridget, and I were at The Morning Roast for our weekly Tuesday coffee catch-up, and Jules had been regaling the other girls with a hyperbolized account of what happened at Owenās house on Saturday. āI wish he hadnāt gotten dragged into this. All those hours of shooting, gone.āI worked with Owen at the McCann Gallery, where Iād served as a gallery assistant for the past year and a half. My father had never said outright he disapproved of me pursuing a photography career, but heād made it clear that he wouldnāt fund any of my equipment. He paid for my tuition and other school-related expenses, but if I wanted a new lens, camera, or even a tripod? That was all me.I tried not to let his unspoken disapproval bother me. I was beyond lucky Iād graduate with no student loan debt, and I wasnāt afraid of hard work. The fact Iād shelled out my own money for every piece of equipment made me cherish them a little more, and I enjoyed my job at McCann. It was one of the most prestigious photography galleries in the Northeast, and I loved my coworkers, though I wasnāt sure whether Owen would want anything more to do with me after what Alex had done.Even now, my skin heated with anger at the memory of his overbearing attitude.I couldnāt believe heād had the gall to show up and boss me around like that. To threaten my friend. To act like I was aā¦a servant or his employee. Even Josh had never gone that far.I stabbed at my yogurt with my fork, furious.āSounds like I missed an interesting time.ā Bridget sighed. āAll the fun stuff happens while Iām away.āBridget had been attending an event at Eldorraās New York consulate, as was required of the Princess of Eldorra.Thatās right. She was an honest-to-God, real-life princess, second in line to the throne of a small but wealthy European country. She looked the part, too. With her golden hair, deep blue eyes, and elegant bone structure, she couldāve passed for a young Grace Kelly.I hadnāt known who Bridget was when she, Jules, Stella, and I found ourselves assigned to the same suite freshman year. Besides, I wouldāve expected a freakinā princess to have a private room.But that was the great thing about Bridget. Despite her insane upbringing, she was one of the most down-to-earth people Iād ever met. She never pulled rank, and she insisted on living life as a normal college student whenever she could. In that sense, Thayer was the best fit for her. Thanks to its proximity to D.C. and its world-class international politics program, the campus swarmed with political offspring and international royalty. Just the other day, Iād overheard the son of the Speaker of the House and the crown prince of a controversial oil kingdom arguing over video games.You canāt make that stuff up.āTrust me, it was not fun,ā I grumbled. āIt was humiliating. And I owe Owen a dinner, at least.āMy phone flashed with a new text. Liam. Again.I swiped away the notification before any of my friends saw it. I wasnāt in the mood to deal with him or his excuses right now.āAu contraire, I thought it was hilarious.ā Jules finished the rest of her scone. āYou shouldāve seen Alexās face. He was pissed.āāHow is that hilarious?ā Stella snapped a photo of her latte art before joining the conversation.She was a big fashion and lifestyle blogger with over 400,000 I*******m followers, and we were used to her capturing everything for the āGram. Ironically, for someone with such a big social presence, she was the shyest in the group, but she said the āanonymityā of the Internet made it easier to be herself online.āDid you hear me? He was pissed.ā Jules placed extra emphasis on the last word like it was supposed to mean something.Bridget, Stella, and I stared at her blankly.She sighed, obviously exasperated by our lack of comprehension. āWhen was the last time any of us saw Alex Volkov pissed? Or happy? Or sad? The man doesnāt show emotion. Itās like God gave him extra helpings of gorgeousness and zero doses of human feeling.āāI think heās a psychopath,ā Stella said. She blushed. āNo normal person is that controlled all the time.āI was still upset with Alex, but a strange part of me felt compelled to defend him. āYouāve only met him a few times. Heās not so bad when heās notā¦āāBeing bad?ā Bridget finished.āAll Iām saying is, heās Joshās best friend, and I trust my brotherās judgment.āJules snorted. āThis the same brother who wore that hideous rat costume to last yearās Halloween party?āI wrinkled my nose while Bridget and Stella burst into laughter. āI said judgment, not taste.āāSorry, I didnāt mean to upset you.ā Stella tilted her head until her glossy dark curls cascaded over her shoulder. We always joked that she was the United Nations of humans because of her multicultural backgroundāGerman and Japanese on her motherās side; Black and Puerto Rican on her fatherās side. The result was five foot eleven inches of leggy limbs, deep olive skin, and catlike green eyes. Supermodel material, if she had any interest in being a supermodel, which she didnāt. āIt was just an observation, but youāre right. I donāt know him well enough to judge. Statement retracted.āāIām not upset. Iāmā¦ā I faltered. What the hell was I doing? Alex didnāt need me defending him. It wasnāt like he was here, listening to us. Even if he were, he wouldnāt care.If there was one person in the world who didnāt give a shit what others thought of him, it was Alex Volkov.āGuys, youāre missing the point.ā Jules waved a hand in the air. āThe point is, Alex did show emotion. Over Ava. We could have fun with this.āOh, no. Julesās idea of āfunā usually involved a heap of trouble and a potential dose of embarrassment on my part.āWhat kind of fun?ā Bridget looked intrigued.āBridge!ā I kicked her under the table. āDonāt encourage her.āāSorry.ā The blonde made a face. āBut all I have going on lately areā¦ā She glanced around to make sure no one was listening. They werenāt, except for her bodyguard Booth, who sat at the table behind us and pretended to read the paper while actually keeping a sharp eye on the surroundings. āDiplomatic events and ceremonial duties. Itās terribly boring. Meanwhile, my grandfatherās sick, my brotherās acting weird, and I need something to take my mind off it all.āHer grandfather and brother, AKA King Edvard and Crown Prince Nikolai of Eldorra. I had to remind myself they were human beings like everyone else, but even after years of friendship with Bridget, I wasnāt used to her speaking so casually about her family. Like they werenāt literal royalty.āI have a theory.ā Jules leaned forward, and the rest of us, even me, leaned in, eager to hear what she had to say. Call it morbid curiosity, because I was sure I wouldnāt like what was about to come out of her mouth.I was right.āAva somehow gets under Alexās skin,ā Jules said. āWe should see how far it goes. How much can she make him feel?āI rolled my eyes. āAll those long hours you put in at your internship mustāve scrambled your brain, because youāre not making any sense.āShe ignored me. āI call itā¦ā Dramatic pause. āOperation Emotion.ā She looked up and drew an arc with her hand like the words would magically appear in the air.āCreative,ā Stella teased.āHear me out. We all think Alex is a robot, right? Well, what if she ā¦ā Jules pointed at me. āā¦can prove he isnāt? Donāt tell me you guys donāt want to see him act like an actual human being for once.āāNo.ā I tossed my empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can and almost beaned a passing student in a Thayer sweatshirt. I winced and mouthed āsorryā before returning to the ridiculous proposition at hand. āThatās the dumbest idea Iāve ever heard.āāDonāt knock it till youāve tried it,ā my so-called best friend sang.āWhat would be the point?ā I threw my hands in the air. āHow would it even work?āāSimple.ā Jules pulled a pen and notepad out of her bag and started scribbling. āWe come up with a list of emotions, and you try to make him feel each one. Itāll be a test of sorts. Like giving him an annual physical to make sure heās functioning properly.āāSometimes,ā Bridget said. āThe way your mind works scares me.āāNo,ā I repeated. āNot happening.āāIt does seem kind ofā¦mean.ā Stella tapped her gold-polished nails on the table. āWhat emotions did you have in mind?āāStel!āāWhat?ā She cast a guilty look in my direction. āIām curious.āāOff the top of my head? Weāve already seen him angry, so happiness, sadness, fear, disgustā¦ā A wicked smile slashed across Julesās face. āJealousy.āI snorted. āPlease. Heād never be jealous of me.āHe was a multimillionaire executive with a genius-level IQ; I was a college student who worked two jobs and ate cereal for dinner.No contest.āNot jealous of you. Jealous over you.āBridget perked up. āYou think he likes Ava?āāNo.ā I was tired of saying that word. āHeās my brotherās best friend, and Iām not his type. He told me so.āāPsshh.ā Jules waved away my protest like she would a mosquito. āMen donāt know what they want. Besides, donāt you want to get back at him for what he did to Owen?āāI donāt,ā I said firmly. āAnd Iām not going along with this crazy idea.āForty-five minutes later, we decided Phase One of Operation Emotion would commence in three days.* * *I hated myself for caving.Somehow, Jules always convinced me to do things against my better instincts, like that time we drove four hours to Brooklyn to watch some band perform because she thought the lead singer was hot, and we ended up stranded in the middle of the highway when our rental car broke down. Or that time she convinced me to write a love poem to the cute guy in my English lit class, only for his girlfriendāwho I hadnāt known existedāto find it and hunt me down in my dorm.Jules was the most persuasive person Iād ever met. A good quality for an aspiring lawyer, but not so much for an innocent friend, i.e. me, who wanted to stay out of trouble.That night, I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, trying to sort through my racing thoughts. Operation Emotion was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted experiment, but it made me nervous, and not just because it erred on the side of mean-spirited. Everything about Alex made me nervous.I shuddered, thinking of how heād retaliate if he found out what we were up to, and thoughts of being flayed alive consumed me until I fell into a light, fitful sleep.āHelp! Mommy, help me!āI tried to scream those words, but I couldnāt. I shouldnāt. Because I was underwater, and if I opened my mouth, all the water would rush in, and I would never see Mommy and Daddy and Josh again. That was what they told me.They also told me not to go near the lake by myself, but I wanted to make pretty ripples in the water. I liked those ripples, liked how throwing one little stone could cause such a big effect.Only those ripples were suffocating me now. Thousands and thousands of them, dragging me further and further from the light above my head.Tears trickled from my eyes, but the lake swallowed them and buried my panic until it was just me and my silent pleas.Iām never getting out never getting out never getting out.āMommy, help!ā I couldnāt hold it in any longer. I screamed, screamed as loud as my little lungs allowed. Screamed until my throat was raw and I felt like I would pass out, or maybe that was the water rushing in, filling my chest.So much water. Everywhere. And no air. Not enough air.I thrashed my arms and legs in hopes it would help, but it didnāt. It made me sink faster.I cried harderānot physically, because I couldnāt tell the difference between crying and existing anymoreābut in my heart.Where was Mommy? She was supposed to be here. Mommies were always supposed to be with their daughters.And she had been there with me on the deck, watching meā¦until she hadnāt. Had she returned? What if she was sinking beneath the water too?The blackness was coming. I saw it, felt it. My brain went fuzzy, and my eyes drooped.I didnāt have the energy to scream anymore, so I mouthed the words. āMommy, pleaseā¦āI jerked upright, my heart beating a million drums of warning while my faded screams soaked into the walls. My covers twisted around my legs, and I threw them off, my skin crawling at the sensation of being entangledāof being trapped with no way to free myself.The glowing red letters of my alarm clock told me it was four forty-four a.m.A pinprick of dread blossomed at the base of my neck and slithered down my spine. In Chinese culture, the number four is considered unlucky because the word for it sounds like the word ādeath.ā SƬ, four; si, death. The only difference between their pronunciation is a tone inflection.Iāve never been a superstitious person, but chills swamped me every time I awoke from one of my nightmares during the four a.m. hour, which was almost always. I couldnāt remember the last time Iād awoken during a different hour. Sometimes I woke up not remembering I had a nightmare, but those blessed occasions were far and few in between.I heard the soft patter of footsteps in the hall and schooled my features into something other than stark terror before the door opened and Jules slipped inside. She flicked on the lamp, and guilt swirled through me when I saw her rumpled hair and exhausted face. She worked long hours and needed sleep, but she always checked on me even after I insisted she stay in bed.āHow bad was it?ā she asked softly. My bed sank beneath her weight as she sat next to me and handed me a mug of thyme tea. Sheād read online that it helped with nightmares and started making it for me a few months ago. It helpedāI hadnāt had a nightmare in over two weeks, which was a record, but I guess my good luck ran out.āNothing out of the ordinary.ā My hands trembled so much liquid spilled over the side of the mug and dripped onto my favorite Bugs Bunny shirt from high school. āGo back to sleep, J. You have a presentation today.āāFuck that.ā Jules raked a hand through her tangled red hair. āIām already up. Besides, itās almost five. I bet there are dozens of overambitious, Lululemon-wearing fitness junkies jogging outside right now.āI mustered a weak smile. āIām sorry. I swear, we can soundproof my room.ā I wasnāt sure how much that would cost, but Iād deal with it. I didnāt want to keep waking her up.āHow about no? Thatās totally unnecessary. Youāre my best friend.ā Jules wrapped me into a tight hug, and I allowed myself to sink into her comforting embrace. Sure, she led me into dubious situations sometimes, but sheād been my ride or die since freshman year, and I wouldnāt have anyone else by my side. āEveryone has nightmares.āāNot like me.āIād had these nightmaresāthese awful, vivid nightmares that I feared werenāt nightmares at all, but actual memoriesāfor as long as I could remember. For me, that was the age of nine. Everything before that was a haze, a canvas peppered with faint shadows of my life before The Blackout, as I called the divide between my forgotten childhood and my later years.āStop. Itās not your fault, and I donāt mind. Seriously.ā Jules pulled back and smiled. āYou know me. Iād never say something was okay if I wasnāt actually okay with it.āI let out a soft laugh and set the now-empty mug on my nightstand. āTrue.ā I squeezed her hand. āIām fine. Go back to sleep, jog, or make yourself a caramel mocha or something.āShe scrunched up her nose. āMe, jog? I donāt think so. Cardio and I parted ways a long time ago. Plus, you know I canāt work a coffee machine. Thatās why I blow all my paychecks at The Morning Roast.ā She examined me, a tiny crease marring her smooth brow. āGive me a holler if you need anything, okay? Iām right down the hall, and I donāt leave for work until seven.āāāKay. Love you.āāLove you, babe.ā Jules gave me one last hug before she left and closed the door behind her with a soft click.I sank back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to fall asleep again even though I knew it was a futile exercise. But even though I was tucked beneath my comforter in a well-insulated room in the middle of summer, the chill remainedāa ghostly specter warning me that the past is never past, and the future never unfolds the way we want it to.šššš ššš:āDonāt do this.āI poured myself a cup of coffee, leaned against the counter, and took a leisurely sip before responding. āIām not sure why youāre calling me, Andrew. Iām the COO. You should talk to Ivan.āāThatās bullshit,ā Andrew spat. āYou pull the strings behind the scenes, and everyone knows it.āāThen everyone is wrong, which wouldnāt be the first time.ā I checked my Patek Philippe watch. Limited edition, hermetically sealed and waterproof, the stainless-steel timepiece had set me back a cool twenty grand. Iād bought it after I sold my financial modeling software for eight figures, one month after my fourteenth birthday. āAh, itās almost time for my nightly meditation session.ā I didnāt meditate, and we both knew it. āI wish you the best. Iām sure youāll have a flourishing second career as a busker. You took band in high school, didnāt you?āāAlex, please.ā Andrewās voice turned pleading. āI have a family. Kids. My oldest da
ššš ššš:I applied makeup, brushed my hair, and wore my favorite white cotton sundress with yellow daisies at the bottom. It was both pretty and comfortable, and it showed off just enough cleavage to intrigue. Liam had loved it. Whenever I wore it, we ended up at his place and my dress ended up on the floor.Iād considered throwing the outfit away after we broke up because heād loved it, but I thought better of it. I refused to let him ruin the good things for me, whether it was a dress or mint chocolate ice cream, which he used to buy me whenever I had my period cravings.I figured looking good couldnāt hurt if I was angling for an unannounced evening moviethon with Alex.I couldnāt think of any good ideas to make him sad without being a total bitch, so Iād chosen the neutral option of sad movies. They worked on everyone. Yes, even men.I saw Josh cry once at the end of Titanic, though he claimed it was allergies and threatened to toss my
šššš ššš:I silently cursed Josh as I carried Ava upstairs. That asshole always put me in situations I didnāt want to be in.Case in point: sleeping in the same room as his sister.Iām sure he would be even less happy about it than I was, but I hadnāt set up the guest roomāI never had guests, not if I could help itāand it was pouring outside, so I couldnāt bring her home without both of us getting drenched. I couldāve left her on the couch, but she wouldāve been damn uncomfortable.I kicked open the door to my room and set her on the bed. She didnāt stir.My eyes lingered on her form, noticing details I had no business noticing. Her dark hair fanned out beneath her like a blanket of black silk long enough for me to wrap my fist around, and her skirt rode up, baring an inch more thigh than modest. Her skin looked smoother than silk, and I had to clench my hands to refrain from touching her.My mind flashed back to earlier in the night. Her ski
ššš ššš:Something smelled delicious,like spice and heat. I wanted to wrap it around me like a blanket.I snuggled closer to the source, enjoying the strong, solid warmth beneath my cheek. I didnāt want to wake up, but Iād promised Bridget I would volunteer at a local pet shelter with her this morning, before my afternoon shift at the gallery.I allowed myself one more minute of cozinessāhad my bed always been this big and softābefore I opened my eyes and yawned.Weird. My room looked different. No photograph prints papering the walls, no vase of sunflowers by the bed. And did my bed just move by itself?My eyes latched onto the broad expanse of bare skin beneath me, and my stomach dropped. I looked up, upāstraight into a pair of familiar green eyes. Eyes that stared back at me with no hint of the humor from last night.He flicked his gaze down. I followed itā¦and realized, to my abject horror, that I was touching Alex Volkovās dick. Unintention
ššš ššš:OPERATION EMOTION:PHASE DISGUSTāYou already brought me welcome-to-the-neighborhood cookies.ā Alex stared at the basket on the dining table.āThese arenāt welcome cookies.ā I pushed the basket toward him. āThese are an experiment. I tried a new recipe and wanted to see what you think.āHe made an impatient noise. āI donāt have time for this. I have a conference call in half an hour.āāIt wonāt take you half an hour to eat one cookie.āYes, I had finagled an invitation inside Alexās house again, this time for the second phase of OE. Neither Alex nor I mentioned his, er, morning wood situation a few days earlier. I didnāt know about him, but Iād prefer if we forgot about that morning altogether.āFine.ā He peered at the confections with suspicion. āWhat flavor?āAsparagus, raisins, and garlic brittle.Iād picked the most disgusting ingredient mixture I could think of because this was, after all, Phase Disgust. Part of me felt bad becaus
ššš ššš:The experiment is a failure,but at least itās over.ā I sucked down the rest of my cranberry vodka. Iād nursed it for so long all the ice had melted and it tasted like fruity water. āThank God.āāToo bad.ā Bridget looked disappointed. āI was looking forward to seeing Alex lose his cool.āāHe still can. The experiment isnāt over yet.ā Jules wagged her finger in the air.Unease crawled down my neck. āYes, it is. We decided on four phases: sadness, disgust, happiness, and fear.āāThere are five phases.ā Julesās hazel eyes sparkled with mischief. āThe last is jealousy, or did you forget?āāI never agreed to that!āWe were at The Crypt, Thayerās most popular off-campus bar, for one last hurrah before classes started Monday. Students had started trickling back, and the bar was way more packed than earlier this summer.āBut itās the best one,ā Jules argued. āDonātāāāAva.āI stiffened at the sound of my name said in that voice. The voice that used
šššš ššš:Thayer Universityāsannual alumni charity gala was the event of the season, but while it did raise money for the latest cause du jour, it wasnāt really about charity. It was about ego.I attended every year.Not because I wanted to be a philanthropist or reminisce about my college days, but because the gala was a fountain of information. Thayer counted the most powerful people in the world amongst its alumni, and they all congregated in the ballroom of the Z Hotel D.C. every August. It was the perfect opportunity to network and gather intel.āā¦pass the bill, but itāll get killed in Congressā¦āI pretended to listen while Colton, an old classmate who now worked in government affairs for a major software company, droned on about the latest piece of tech legislation.He rarely had anything interesting to say, but his father was high up in the FBI, so I kept him in my orbit in case I needed him in the future.It was always about the long gam
AVA POV:He was furious.He was alive with it, pulsing with it. One hand clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white, while the other rested on the gearshift, flexing and unflexing like he wanted to strangle someone. The glow from passing streetlights illuminated the beautifully carved planes of his face as we sped down the dark streets, throwing into sharp relief the tense set of his mouth and the way his brows bunched over his eyes.When I told him about the incident with Liam outside The Crypt, I almost disintegrated from the force of his fury.āIām okay,ā I said, wrapping my arms around my torso. My voice sounded scratchy and unsure. āReally.āThat only made him more furious.āIf youād attended Krav Maga lessons like Iād asked, he wouldnāt have been able to corner you like that.ā Alexās voice was soft. Deadly. I remembered his face when heād pounded Liamās face into a pulp, and a shiver skated down my spine. I wasnāt scared of Alex hurting me, b