The applause still echoed in Ava Creed's ears as she stepped out of the grand ballroom. Her heels clicked across the marble floors of the five-star hotel, the soft rustle of her midi-length pleated skirt trailing behind her. She held her award tightly, it was a thin, glass plaque engraved with her name as though it were a ticket to something bigger. Something beyond the quiet, well-ordered life she lived.

The hotel lobby buzzed with noise bellhops, tourists, waiters, and delegates still mingling after the closing ceremony of the National Youth Leadership Summit. Ava took a deep breath. Tonight was perfect. She'd made a name for herself. She'd impressed the judges. She'd stuck to her beliefs and principles and still come out on top. No short skirts. No flirting. No selling herself short.

And now? She was just waiting for Mia to pick her up. Her best friend had promised to come straight after work. Ava checked her phone. 9:32 PM.

A sleek black BMW pulled up outside the glass doors. A man in a black suit stepped out, glanced at a tablet, then straightened his tie and approached her.

"Miss Lila?" he asked.

Ava blinked. "No. I'm A.."

"The boss doesn't like delays," he cut in briskly. "He said to pick you up right after the event."

She frowned. "I think you've got the wrong pe..."

"Mr. Hawthorn is waiting."

That name made her pause.

Hawthorn.

She'd heard that name before. Billionaire. Owner of Hawthorn International. A man who had enough power to snap his fingers and rebuild cities. She'd seen his name on the list of corporate sponsors for the summit. Maybe this was some kind of opportunity? A scholarship? An internship?

"He asked for you specifically. If you're not interested, I can call someone else."

She hesitated. Glanced down at the award in her hand. Then at the car. Then back at her phone. Still no texts from Mia.

"Fine," she said softly. "But if this is a mistake..."

The driver didn't respond.

The ride up the penthouse elevator felt like an ascent into another world. Ava clasped her award tighter, her heart thudding. What if this was a mentorship offer? Maybe he'd seen her speech and was impressed. Her mind spun with possibilities.

When the elevator dinged, she stepped out into a hallway wrapped in silence and luxury. Black marble floors. Golden fixtures. A single door at the end.

She knocked. No response. She tried the handle. Unlocked.

The room smelled like expensive liquor, bergamot, and sin.

Then she saw him.

Xavier Hawthorn.

He stood by the window in a loose white shirt, half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Tall. Sharp-jawed. Dark eyes like storms. A glass of whiskey in one hand, his other tucked into the waistband of his black slacks.

He turned slowly. Didn't flinch.

"You're late," he said.

Ava opened her mouth to speak, to explain but nothing came out.

"Over there," he motioned to the chair. "Robe's waiting."

"I think there's been a mistake," she said quickly, her voice catching.

"Undress."

Her heart stopped . "W... What?"

He raised a brow, walking toward her. The click of his shoes on the floor made her spine stiffen.

"You're not Lila?"

"No. I'm Ava. Ava Creed. I was at the youth summit. Your driver must've mistaken me for someone else."

Xavier studied her. She felt it in her bones. The way his gaze dragged over her curious, calculating, almost bored.

But he didn't back away.

"Interesting," he murmured, sipping his whiskey. "So you're not the girl I paid for."

Ava's eyes widened. "Paid for?"

He smirked, finally setting the glass down. "Relax, angel. I don't force anyone. I thought you were here for one thing.

She stiffened. Her brain screamed leave. Her feet stayed planted.

"You're not what I expected," he added, almost amused.

"And you're not who I thought you were either," she shot back, cheeks burning. "I thought this was about the program. Maybe a mentorship..."

He laughed, deep and lazy. "Mentorship? That's adorable."

Her stomach twisted.

"Relax," he added. "I don't force anyone. But don't act surprised. You walked into my suite. Past security. Into my space."

Ava's spine straightened. Her pride burned hotter than her shame. She turned on her heel.

"Wait."

She froze.

His voice wasn't playful anymore.

"I don't belong here," she whispered.

He stepped closer. Slowly. Predatory, but not cruel.

"No," he said. "Not yet."

Her breath caught.

"You're new to this," he said. "You dress like you're trying not to be noticed, but you can't help it. You're curious. Nervous. Starving to be seen."

She swallowed. "You don't know me."

"I don't have to. I know the type. The ones who come from churches, from strict homes, from silence. They want control, but they're starving for release."

She backed away a step.

When she looked back, his face was different serious. Almost... intrigued.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?"

She blinked, mouth parting. "Excuse me?"

Xavier stepped closer, circling her like she was a puzzle he couldn't solve.

"You've got that look. That 'I don't know how dangerous I am' kind of energy. It's rare. Tempting. But fragile."

"I should go."

"You should," he agreed. "But you won't."

Ava clenched her fists, holding onto the last of her dignity. "I didn't come here to..."

"To spread your legs? I know."

She flinched.

He softened a little. "Look. I don't do emotions. I don't do promises. I do pleasure. Control. Release. But you?"

He stepped closer, and she inhaled sharply.

"You don't belong in rooms like this, Ava. Not yet."

His voice was low, dangerous. Not threatening. Just real.

She didn't know what possessed her to stay for another five seconds. Maybe it was his eyes. Maybe it was the aching thrum in her stomach. Maybe it was the hunger to be seen for once, not for being good, but just... for being.

But she turned and left.

The door clicked behind her.

And still, neither of them could breathe right for the rest of the night