THE CONTRACT (The Chosen Series #2)

LUNCH DATE

5 Weeks Previous

I adjust my sweater's pleated sleeves and shift my weight on the velvet couch, waiting for Ava to respond. The softness of the fabric molds around me, providing a sense of comfort as anxiety builds.

"How's the search going?" Ava deflects, taking a massive bite of her croissant, the pastry flaking as her teeth slice through the golden crust. My lips twitch as I see her warm brown eyes light up with pleasure. Good food is almost as good as good sex!

"Ava?" I scold, knowing she's intentionally changing the subject—a tactic she often uses when she wants to avoid answering something.

"Seriously," she continues, still munching, "let's talk about you for a bit, then I'll fill you in on my date with Liam tomorrow night."

I smack her leg, causing a glare from her, but fuck her. I'm not backing down. She's a master of manipulation, second only to one other person. I decide to let it go, considering what she's been through. For now, I can play nice. "Unfair, Ava, you play dirty." I pout, emphasizing the word 'dirty.'

"You know it," she smiles back at me, her grin reaching her eyes, and I can see some of her old sparkle returning.

Taking a moment, I truly look at her, internally cringing as I see the impact of what she's been through. Her normally dewy complexion is now dry and worn, and dark bags rest under her eyes. She's still not sleeping.

It's been a week since I found her on the interstate—panicked, dehydrated, and an absolute mess. If ass wasn't already dead, I'd personally track him down and give him a taste of his own medicine. Starting with his penis, the mother... Grrrrr, CRISPY!!!

Taking a deep breath, I pull my dark hair to one side and twirl the ends. "Still nothing. You'd think they'd have released my records by now, but getting information out of the Sisters of Sacred Mercy is like pulling teeth—fucking painful."

I mean, how hard can it be? I never knew my biological parents. My earliest memory is the nuns chastising me for showing emotion before my handlers came for me when I was a pre-teen. Before that, my memories are non-existent, and no one has been able or willing to tell me why.

The search to know more about my origins is a priority. The Petrovs, my trainers have always been opposed to me exploring my past. But with time running out, I need to find them.

"Anyway," I add, recalling my last conversation with the administrator, "they said I should have the records within the next few weeks. But hey, it's been 28 years. What's another 30 days?" I try to keep it light, but inside, I'm churning with frustration at the delay.

"What about Geoff?" Ava asks, still trying to keep the focus on me.

Geoff? Oh, fuck. "Hmmm," I reply, trying to come up with a plausible excuse about what happened to Geoff.

"Hmmm?" She responds, raising one of her light brown eyebrows.

Damn, I need time to... "You know, hmmm," I offer, still searching for the right words.

"So, no more Geoff!" She concludes, chuckling and taking another bite of her croissant.

Thank you. I mutter under my breath. Ava probably thinks Geoff is just another one of my FB's. I hate lying to her, but I don't want her involved in that aspect of my life.

Letting her assume I'm still a man-eater, I pick at my nails and feign a bored expression. "Wouldn't say that. I'm just not that into him."

Chuckling again, Ava pats my thigh. "Maybe you need to talk to Angela about your attachment issues."