Chapter 3: Avery

AVERY

Davina stands before me, wielding her weapon of choice. The makeup brush. “This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” I grumble for the hundredth time today. My nerves are a cesspool, plucking away confidence until there is none.

“Probably,” Davina agrees, as she applies my foundation, blending it into my skin. “But the only way to defeat evil is with a greater evil, and Drake Winters definitely fits that bill. He won’t fear your father or Hayden.”

I hate when she’s the logical one, but it’s all accurate. Drake Winters is the eldest son of Maverick and Shiela Winters, and the current CEO of Solstice Enterprises. Also, New York City’s resident bad boy, the leader of his devious friends. “I could just runaway,” I comment with a shrug, sounding like the wimp I am. If I was happy leaving my comfort zone, I probably wouldn’t be in this horrific situation.

“And go where?” Davina asks, stopping with her masterpiece to stare at me wide-eyed. “Where can you go that Hayden or your father cannot find you? All the money you own is in your trust fund.”

I want to argue back, but anything I have to say dies because she speaks the God’s honest truth. “Exactly,” she mutters, going back to blending contour. “We’ve run all the other possibilities, and this is your last option. Aves, do you really want to look back knowing you didn’t do everything?”

Her question chills me to the bone, fragments of my future flashing with disdain. I’d really hate the life shining before me, attached to Hayden for all eternity. Inhaling, I find the resolve to continue with the plan Davina mostly created, down to the outfit. “How’d you get me an interview, anyway?” I question, closing my eyelids for her to apply shadow.

“Consider it my powers of persuasion,” she answers smugly, and I don’t even want to know what she had to do to make it possible.

“They’re lethal.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, trying to keep my jaw still so I don’t ruin the look she is going for.

“Now, the next step,” she spouts, having a confidence I could never achieve. “Taking care of your other problem.” I know what she’s hinting at, my dreaded virginity. The thing I’ve “clung to unnecessarily” according to her standards, but I’ve never….well, I never wanted to lose it just because…

So much for waiting for the right time and perfect person. Childish antics leaving me with bleak options; a random stranger or Hayden. The dark realization forces my stomach into tight knots. “I guess,” I grit, jaw clenched with distaste despite knowing it’s the only option. “I can try a dating app. How do I even hide it?”

“Or,” she counters, fanciful ideas dancing in her head. “Take the third option and forget about some loser from an app.”

“Which is?” I ask, trepidation brewing at the excitement in her aura, afraid of what’s about to come out of her mouth.

“You climb Drake Winters like the tree he is,” she explains, more delighted by the idea as she stews on the idea. “He is a God among men.”

I have only seen pictures of him, and while he is gorgeous, I have a feeling it doesn’t do him justice. He has a devilishly angelic face, the same quality that made Lucifer infamous. “Definitely not,” I shake in denial. “We have heard the rumors about what interests him….you know, sexually.”

“Men with his experience,” I deflect Davina’s unspoken comments, knowing her too well. We have been friends since our childhood. “They don’t want what I offer…which is nothing. Especially concerning that.”

“If you say so,” not agreeing with my assessment, but she doesn’t dispute it either. “Fine, I’ll help you make the dating profile, but I think you’re missing a perfect opportunity. I’m team board the ferry and ride him all over the island.”

Her disappointment at my blatant refusal is clear, but she doesn’t fight my decision. I am unsure I could provide what Drake Winters is accustomed to in a woman.

There are whispers about him and his ultra-exclusive club. It’s become quite notorious and dreadfully mysterious. The membership process is rigorous, apparently. Those who were lucky enough to make the cut don’t dare speak of it. More tight lipped about it than the CIA.

“Alright, don’t move,” Davina mumbles, holding an eyeliner pencil in one hand and the cap in her mouth. Knowing from experience what happens if I move, I remain more still than the deceased. We stay silent while she creates winged magic, completing the look.

When she is done, she works on my hair. She separates the long brunette strands into four before using bobby pins to attach them to the scalp. Taking the nylon mesh cap, she pulls it over until the hair is covered. Next, she puts the blonde wig on, making sure that the ear tabs are lined up, and things are straight, before styling.

Stepping back twenty minutes later, she stares me up and down, admiring her handiwork. “You don’t even look like yourself.” Her words are smug and proud. She spins me to look in the mirror. My jaw dropping as I look at the woman staring back in the mirror. My once silver irises are now a dark brown, my deep brown locks transformed into a light blonde. Make up that I usually keep light and natural contours my face into someone different.

I barely have the time to take it in before she is throwing a dress into my hands. Taking the white Valentino from her, I drop the robe, step inside and slide the straps over my shoulders, while Davina zips it. It has a low neckline, before hugging at my waist, stopping mid-thigh. A slit exposing my lightly tanned skin.

Without having time to look, she gives me black strappy Jimmy Choo. I sit, buckling the heels at the ankle, while my best friend attaches a black pearl choker to my neck and the matching bracelet watch to my wrist.

I stand, turning to the mirror once more. Smoothing down the front of the linen, I stare at myself and my nerves get the better of me. I’ve become certifiably insane, thinking I can walk into Drake Winter’s office and leave with a job. The consequences racing through me, forcing my anxiety to climb until it’s impossible to breathe. “Isn’t this too sexy for a job?” I stumble, my hand shaking from the rush of adrenaline.

“Aves, you look fucking hot,” Davina compliments, encouragingly. “And responsible. You’ll do great. Your credentials speak for themselves.”

“You’re right,” I nod, exhaling, trying to calm myself, but it’s useless. My stomach knotted so tightly, I feel woozy. What I am about to do goes against the very nature I’ve clung to for the last twenty-two years. This is the last thing anyone would expect from good girl Avery Summers.

“Alright,” she says, hurrying me along, “we need to get you out the door if you’re going to make it to Hudson Yards on time.” Grabbing the Chanel No. 5 from the dresser, she prays me in her favorite scent. She picks up another vial, dabbing the oil behind my ears, my wrists, and the inside of my elbows. “A little something extra for luck,” she says, a grin on her face, like she knows a secret I don’t.

Davina takes her black Marc Jacobs bag from the hook, handing it to me, with her Gucci sunglasses. “Remember, you’re me,” she says, pushing me toward the door. “You’ll do great, and I will wait for you to get back here.”

Before I have the chance to argue or resist, I am in the hallway, with the door closed and the lock sliding into place. Unable to turn back now, I make my way to the lobby, where Davina’s town car waits for me. None of the apartment staff think I am me, all of them greeting me as “Ms. Vanderbilt.” If we can fool the people who see us every day, it’ll be easy to fool Drake Winters. A man I’ve never even met.

~~~~~~~~~

The black Lexus stops in front of the towering office building, the driver getting out to open the door for me. I am Davina Vanderbilt I repeat to myself for the hundredth time, hoping that if I keep lying, it’ll become true. Stepping onto the busy Manhattan sidewalk, I do my best to keep the contents of my stomach inside, when they are begging to reappear.

With each step, I want to hide, but I defy my distress entering the modern day castle. I give the security guard my information and appointment time so he can allow me access to the elevators. My brain going through the motions while my brain remains disconnected and chaotic.

My palms are sweaty, while my heart races, making me regret all the coffee I’ve had today. My adrenaline making me jittery enough, I didn’t need caffeine too. Panic reaching new heights as the elevator climbs to the sky, the box getting smaller and more cramped the higher it goes. Why are there so many bodies in here?

Jelly fills my legs, making me weak, and on the verge of collapse when the elevator opens with a whoosh. Oxygen fills my lungs, and clarity reigns as my feet push me forward with the others leaving in a mass exodus. I follow behind, laying eyes on the office, which is designed nothing like I’d imagined. Every surface is covered in some variation of black or dark grey. Even the employees are only wearing those colors, not a single person daring to be different, except me.

I stand out against….everything. Davina was damn persistent I wear this dress, and not the black I originally planned. It doesn’t take me long to realize why. There is no way I can blend in with my pristine white dress, not in this office. Unable to run away in shame, I walk down the gangplank to the receptionist desk. Somehow finding the strength to continue with this farce my friend and I created.

“Hi?” The woman asks, her eyes scanning my outfit with distaste. Her eyebrow raising with questions and a hint of jelousy in her gaze. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Uh, yes,” I cough, finding my voice behind the tremble in my bones. “My name is Davina Vanderbilt. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Winters.”

“Mhhhhm,” she nods, her glare darkening before it lands on someone behind me. “Mr. Harper, good morning!” The amount of saccharin in her voice makes my teeth hurt. I don’t turn to look at the man, keeping my attention forward.

“Candace,” the stranger says, his voice dry and unamused. His attention easily pulled elsewhere, as the feeling of being watched heats my skin. Turning I find a blonde man, in a dark suit, with a gray button down, and crystal blue eyes observing me with ferocity. His eyes narrow, until a smile finds its way home, “and who might you be?”

The way he stares is unsettling, like he is daring me to lie to him. I inhale deeply, finding the answer I practiced the entire drive over. “She is here for an appointment with Mr. Winters, sir.” Candance answers, disappointed she’s not the center of attention any longer. I’ve never experienced sir sounding like a flirtatious purr until now. Between her obvious desperation and his undivided attention I’m flushed to a bright pink.

“Thank you, Candace,” he says, not glancing in her direction, for even a second, only increasing her wrath. “I can show her around.” A giddiness, in this strangers tone, I can’t wrap my finger around why it exists. We had never met before, his face and aura not calling to me subliminally.

Mr. Harper motions for me to walk past reception, and into the main area, taking it all the way to the back, where another elevator exists.

Upon approach, the man pulls a card from his pocket, scanning it against the reader. The doors pop open, the gentleman, allowing me to enter first. The door closing, and the contraption moving instantly, telling me it only has one destination.

“It’s odd,” Mr. Harper murmers, his stare firmly planted on me, it hasn’t moved since our meeting. “Drake doesn’t usually call for his toys to be brought here.”

“I’m not a toy,” the offense striking me like a fist, my words escaping with a growl. Fire burning away the nervous knots I had earlier, filling me with igdination.

“We’ll see about that,” he responds, elevator doors opening preventing my comeback. Huffing, I depart, choosing not to waste more time with him, only to stumble backwards at the last second. Unlike the downstairs area, this room is filled with white furniture, and simple black accents. Exactly. Like. My. Outfit.

Large windows line an entire wall, making me wonder if I can hurl myself from one. What the hell is Davina playing at, did she know his office looked like this? A man with dark black hair, in a black suit, sits behind the desk, while he stares at the papers earnestly. Concern furrowing his brow, whatever he is looking through is causing him to stress. The aura leeking into the room, and turning it dark and slightly gloomy.

“Jude,” Mr. Winters growls, not glancing in our direction, “I’m busy. Go away.”

“I know, Drake,” Mr. Harper responds, dripping with glee, “but Miss.

Vanderbilt has an appointment with you.”

Nothing grabbed his attention, until hearing Davina’s name, finally looking at us. His onyx eyes piercing, keeping me still. Whatever it is about my appearance, it gets him to drop his papers, staring intently. The way his eyes explore my body sends a shiver down my spine. He leans back in the chair his head tilting slightly like I am a puzzle he is trying to solve. I try keeping the blush from my cheeks but it impossible with the way he watches. Devouring me.

I should stop standing like an idiot, and introduce myself but I can’t move a muscle, his attention having an effect I wasn’t anticipating.

“Miss. Vanderbilt,” Mr. Winters says, breaking the spell between us. He stands, walking around the desk. “Nice to meet you.” His hand reaches out in greeting, dwarfing mine, as his fingers wrap around mine.

“You, too,” I whisper, trying to catch myself and my rambling breath. “I am here for the marketing position you have available.” I reach inside the bag, grabbing the file I had placed in there earlier.

“Really?” he asks, taking the folder from me, before his stare flicks backward to his friend. Mr. Winters wears the same marked amusement his comrade wore throughout our unfortunate elevator journey.

“Yes,” I respond, my answer sounding more like a question itself rather than a direct statement. He only seems to derive greater pleasure from my uncertainty. Despite the awkwardness, and the inner joke I am not apart of, I persist more determined. If only to wipe the smug look from their faces. “You can see from my resume that I graduated from Yale, summa cum laude, with a dual degree in marketing and advertising.”

“I’m sure you did,” he responds, not even bothering to look at what’s in his hands, not caring to confirm the facts for himself. No, his stare remains on me, forcing my gaze to meet his once more. He reaches up, like he is about to grab my chin, but I flinch, glaring up at him.

“I don’t know you like that,” my words causing more enjoyment for him, as he steps forward, his smirk returning.

“You’re right,” he whispers, his voice like dark chocolate, so deliciously sinful he’d turn an angel bad. His finger drags along my neck lightly, moving my hair from the nape. Bending, his warm breath tickles my skin, he’s so close I swear his nose is faintly grazing my flesh.

“You don’t know me, but I know you, Avery Summers.”