The invitation arrived on Thursday morning, printed on cream-colored cardstock that probably cost more than Ava's weekly grocery budget.
_Cross Industries Annual Holiday Reception
Friday, December 15th, 7:00 PM - 11:00 PM
The Fairmont Chicago
Cocktail Attire Required
Spouses and Significant Others Welcome_
Sarah dropped it on Ava's desk with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but attendance isn't optional for executive staff. Mr. Cross expects his assistant to be there."
"What exactly happens at these things?"
"Networking. Schmoozing. Rich people in expensive clothes pretending to enjoy each other's company." Sarah lowered her voice. "And you'll get to meet Mrs. Cross. Fair warning - she's... memorable."
"Memorable how?"
"You'll see."
Ava stared at the invitation, her stomach clenching. A company party meant hours of maintaining her Evan persona in front of dozens of people, meant small talk and handshakes and the constant terror of being discovered.
It also meant meeting Damon's wife.
"Any advice for surviving corporate social events?"
"Don't drink too much, don't say anything controversial, and whatever you do, don't let Marcus Reid corner you alone. He gets chatty when he's had a few drinks, and not in a good way."
*****
Friday evening found Ava standing outside the Fairmont Chicago, adjusting her tie for the hundredth time and trying to calm her racing heart. She'd spent two hours getting ready - binding her chest, styling her hair, practicing her masculine walk in front of Talia's full-length mirror.
"You look handsome," Talia had said, straightening Ava's collar. "Very distinguished young businessman."
"I look terrified."
"That too. But terrified in a suit is still better than unemployed in pajamas."
The hotel ballroom was a monument to understated elegance - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and enough floral arrangements to stock a small garden center. Men in tailored tuxedos mingled with women whose jewelry could probably fund a small country, everyone moving with the practiced ease of people born to wealth.
Ava felt like an imposter at a museum gala.
"Evan!" Damon's voice cut through the cocktail chatter. He approached with a woman on his arm, and Ava's breath caught.
Celeste Cross was stunning in the way that money could buy and genetics could perfect. Platinum blonde hair swept into an elegant chignon, sapphire dress that probably cost more than Ava's annual salary, and the kind of poise that came from a lifetime of knowing she was the most beautiful woman in any room.
But it was her eyes that struck Ava - pale blue and sharp with intelligence, studying everything and everyone with calculating interest.
"Celeste, this is Evan Carter, my new assistant. Evan, my wife, Celeste."
Celeste extended a perfectly manicured hand, and Ava shook it, trying not to notice how soft her skin was or how her smile didn't quite reach those calculating eyes.
"So you're the miracle worker," Celeste said, her voice carrying a slight accent that suggested expensive European boarding schools. "Damon's told me all about your heroics with the Nakamura deal."
"Just doing my job, ma'am."
"Please, call me Celeste. 'Ma'am' makes me feel ancient." Her laugh was like wind chimes, delicate and musical. "And modest too. How refreshing. Most of Damon's associates can't resist bragging about their accomplishments."
"Evan's different," Damon said, and something in his tone made Ava glance at him. Was that pride in his voice? "He gets results without the ego."
"How wonderfully... mature." Celeste's eyes swept over Ava's form with unconcealed interest. "You seem quite young to be handling such responsibilities."
"I'm older than I look."
"I'm sure you are." Celeste's smile grew warmer, more personal. "Damon, darling, you should introduce Evan to the Hendersons. I'm sure they'd love to meet the man who saved their construction timeline."
"Good idea. Evan, come with me."
As Damon led her away, Ava felt Celeste's gaze following them across the room like a physical touch.
The next hour was exhausting. Damon introduced her to what felt like half of Chicago's business elite, each handshake and small talk exchange a test of her ability to maintain character. She discussed quarterly projections with people who owned skyscrapers, made polite conversation about market trends with men who moved billions of dollars before breakfast.
Through it all, she was aware of Celeste watching from across the room, those pale blue eyes tracking her movements with predatory interest.
"You're doing well," Damon said quietly as they moved from one conversation cluster to another. "Better than my last three assistants combined."
"What happened to them at these events?"
"The first one got drunk and insulted Senator Morrison's wife. The second one tried to pitch a business idea to every person he met. The third one spent the entire evening hiding in the bathroom."
"Noted. No drinking, no pitching, no hiding."
"You're learning."
Damon was called away by Marcus Reid, leaving Ava standing alone near the champagne fountain. She was reaching for a glass of water when a familiar voice spoke behind her.
"Abandoned already? How terribly rude of my husband."
Ava turned to find Celeste beside her, having approached with the silent grace of a cat stalking prey.
"He's just doing business. I don't mind."
"Of course you don't. Loyalty is such an attractive quality." Celeste moved closer, ostensibly to reach for a champagne flute but positioning herself well within Ava's personal space. "Tell me, Evan, what do you do when you're not saving my husband's company?"
"Not much. Work keeps me pretty busy."
"All work and no play makes for a dull boy." Celeste's fingers brushed Ava's wrist as she reached past her for champagne, the contact lasting a heartbeat longer than necessary. "Surely you have hobbies? Interests? A girlfriend?"
The question felt loaded with meaning Ava didn't want to examine. "No girlfriend."
"How surprising. A handsome, successful young man like yourself? The women of Chicago must be blind."
Ava felt heat rise in her cheeks. This was dangerous territory - personal questions that could expose inconsistencies in her carefully constructed identity.
"I prefer to focus on my career right now."
"Admirable. Though perhaps a bit lonely?" Celeste's voice dropped to an intimate whisper. "I understand loneliness. It's remarkable how isolated one can feel even when surrounded by people."
There was something raw in her voice, a vulnerability that didn't match her polished exterior. For a moment, Ava glimpsed the woman beneath the perfect facade - someone who seemed as trapped in her role as Ava was in hers.
"Mrs. Cross-"
"Celeste," she corrected firmly. "And you're sweet to worry, but I'm fine. We're all fine, aren't we? Playing our parts, wearing our masks, pretending everything is exactly as it should be."
The words carried weight that made Ava uncomfortable, as if Celeste could see through her own carefully constructed mask.
"Celeste, there you are." Damon appeared at her elbow, his expression unreadable as he took in the intimate positioning of his wife and assistant. "The Nakamuras would like to meet you."
"Of course they would." Celeste stepped back, her polished smile sliding back into place like armor. "It was wonderful talking with you, Evan. I do hope we'll have the chance to continue our conversation soon."
She glided away on Damon's arm, leaving Ava standing by the champagne fountain with the uncomfortable feeling that she'd just been hunted by an expert predator who'd decided she was interesting prey.
"Careful with that one."
Ava spun to find Marcus Reid beside her, his silver hair gleaming under the ballroom lights and his smile sharp with amusement.
"I'm sorry?"
"Celeste Cross. Beautiful woman, but dangerous. She has a tendency to... collect interesting people." Marcus sipped his scotch, studying Ava with those calculating eyes. "Particularly young, attractive men who work closely with her husband."
"I'm just Mr. Cross's assistant."
"Of course you are. And I'm sure that's all you'll ever be." Marcus's smile widened. "Though I have to say, you handle her attention remarkably well for someone so... inexperienced."
The pause before 'inexperienced' felt significant, loaded with implications Ava didn't want to consider.
"If you'll excuse me, I should find Mr. Cross."
"Run along then. But Evan?" Marcus caught her arm as she started to leave. "A word of advice from someone who's worked with the Cross family for a long time - some games are more dangerous than they appear. Make sure you know what you're playing before you agree to play."
Ava escaped to the hotel lobby, her heart racing and her hands shaking slightly. The conversation with Celeste had been unsettling enough, but Marcus's warning made it clear that she'd stumbled into something more complicated than a simple case of unwanted attention.
She found a quiet corner and pulled out her phone, texting Talia: _This is getting complicated._
The response came back immediately: _Come home. We'll figure it out._
But as Ava looked back toward the ballroom, where she could see Celeste laughing with the Nakamuras while stealing glances in her direction, she wondered if there was anything left to figure out.
She was in deeper than she'd ever intended to go, and the water was rising fast.
When she finally returned to the party, Celeste was waiting.
"There you are. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned us entirely." Celeste appeared at her side as if she'd been watching for Ava's return. "Walk with me?"
It wasn't really a question. Celeste linked their arms with casual intimacy and steered Ava toward the hotel's outdoor terrace, away from the crowd and noise of the party.
The December air was sharp and cold, but the terrace was heated and dotted with elegant seating areas. Most partygoers had stayed inside, leaving them essentially alone under the Chicago skyline.
"Better," Celeste said, settling onto a cushioned bench and patting the space beside her. "I find these parties so stifling, don't you? All that forced cheerfulness and meaningless small talk."
Ava remained standing, every instinct screaming danger. "Mrs. Cross, I should get back inside. Mr. Cross might need me."
"Damon is perfectly capable of managing without you for a few minutes. Besides, I outrank him when it comes to giving you orders." Celeste's smile was teasing, but there was steel underneath. "Sit. Please."
Reluctantly, Ava perched on the edge of the bench, maintaining as much distance as possible.
"You're nervous," Celeste observed. "Why?"
"I'm not nervous."
"You are. Your hands are shaking, you keep glancing toward the door, and you're sitting like you're ready to bolt at any second." Celeste turned to face her fully. "I'm not going to hurt you, Evan. I'm simply curious about the man who's managed to impress my notoriously difficult husband."
"There's nothing particularly interesting about me."
"I disagree. You're young, but you carry yourself with unusual confidence. You're obviously intelligent - the Nakamura solution proves that. And there's something about you that's... different. Intriguing."
Celeste's hand settled on Ava's knee, warm through the fabric of her dress pants. "Tell me, do you find me attractive, Evan?"
The question hit Ava like a physical blow. Every muscle in her body tensed, and she fought the urge to jump up and run back inside.
"Mrs. Cross, I think we should go back to the party."
"You didn't answer my question."
"It's not an appropriate question."
"Isn't it?" Celeste's thumb traced a small circle on Ava's knee. "I'm a woman asking a man if he finds her attractive. It's the most natural question in the world."
"You're married. To my boss."
"I am married," Celeste agreed. "To a man who sees me as a beautiful accessory to his successful life. When was the last time you think my husband and I had a real conversation? When was the last time he looked at me and saw anything more than his perfect trophy wife?"
There was genuine pain in her voice, and Ava felt an unexpected stab of sympathy. But sympathy was dangerous - it led to complications she couldn't afford.
"I'm sure that's not true."
"Sweet of you to say, but we both know it is." Celeste's hand moved higher, her fingers trailing along Ava's thigh. "You, however, see me. Really see me. I can tell."
"Mrs. Cross-"
"Celeste," she corrected, leaning closer. "And you can't tell me you don't feel this connection between us. I saw how you looked at me tonight."
Ava's mind raced. How had she looked at Celeste? She'd been trying so hard to maintain her masculine persona that she hadn't monitored her expressions carefully enough. Had she given something away?
"I looked at you the way any employee looks at his boss's wife - with respect."
"Is that what you call it?" Celeste was close enough now that Ava could smell her perfume - something expensive and floral that made her head spin. "Because it felt like something much more interesting than respect."
"I should go."
Ava started to stand, but Celeste's hand on her arm stopped her.
"Don't. Please." The desperation in Celeste's voice was startling. "I'm not asking for anything inappropriate. I just... I just want to talk to someone who sees me as more than decoration."
Against her better judgment, Ava sat back down. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Anything. Everything. Tell me about yourself. Your family, your dreams, what you want out of life." Celeste's eyes were bright with interest. "I want to know the real Evan Carter."
The request was impossible, of course. The real Evan Carter didn't exist. But sitting there under the stars, with this beautiful, lonely woman looking at her like she mattered, Ava found herself wanting to give her something real.
"I don't have much family," she said carefully. "Just... a friend who's like a sister to me. She's the most important person in my life."
"Tell me about her."
"She's a teacher. Elementary school art. She's kind, and funny, and she sees the best in everyone even when they can't see it in themselves." Ava's voice softened as she thought about Talia. "She's been there for me through everything. I don't know what I'd do without her."
"She sounds wonderful. Are you in love with her?"
"Not like that. She's... she's family."
"Good," Celeste said, and her hand squeezed Ava's arm. "I would hate to think you were unavailable."
The words sent alarm bells ringing through Ava's head. This was spiraling out of control faster than she could manage.
"Celeste-"
"There they are." Damon's voice cut through the night air like a blade. He stood in the doorway to the terrace, his expression unreadable but his posture tense. "I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."
Celeste's hand fell away from Ava's arm, but she didn't move away entirely. "We were just talking. Getting to know each other better."
"I can see that." Damon's gray eyes moved between them, taking in their close proximity and intimate positioning. "The party's winding down. Time to go."
"Of course." Celeste rose gracefully, smoothing her dress. "Thank you for the lovely conversation, Evan. I do hope we can continue it soon."
She leaned down and kissed Ava's cheek - a gesture that would have seemed innocent if not for the way her lips lingered a moment too long and her breath whispered against Ava's ear, "Until next time."
Then she was gliding past Damon into the hotel, leaving Ava sitting alone on the bench with her heart racing and her cheek burning where Celeste's lips had touched.
Damon remained in the doorway for a long moment, studying her with those penetrating gray eyes.
"Sir?" Ava managed finally.
"My wife can be... intense when she finds someone interesting," he said carefully. "I trust you can handle yourself professionally in all situations."
"Of course, sir."
"Good. See you Monday morning."
He disappeared inside, leaving Ava alone with the Chicago skyline and the growing certainty that she'd just walked into a trap that was about to snap shut around her.