smoke under the skin

Ava woke to the sound of screaming.

Not real screaming.

Memory.

She sat upright instantly, breath uneven, heart hammering violently against her ribs.

Fire.

The smell of smoke.

Her mother shouting her name.

Glass shattering—

Ava pressed trembling fingers against her mouth.

The room was dark except for pale rainlight slipping through the curtains.

A nightmare.

Just another nightmare.

Still, her body did not understand the difference.

Sweat dampened the back of her neck as she forced herself out of bed. She crossed the room quickly and turned on every lamp she could reach.

Light.

She needed light.

Darkness made memories louder.

For several minutes she simply stood there breathing hard, staring at the fireplace across the room like it might suddenly come alive.

Pathetic.

Seven years later and she still reacted like a frightened child.

Ava wrapped her arms around herself tightly before walking toward the window.

Rain covered the estate grounds in silver mist.

Massive.

Silent.

Lonely.

Just like its owner.

The thought irritated her immediately.

Why was she even thinking about Evan Ashford at four in the morning?

Because unfortunately, the man had a presence impossible to ignore.

Cold eyes.

Sharp voice.

Controlled anger.

He looked like the kind of man who had never once apologized sincerely in his life.

And yet—

There had been something strange in his expression inside the library last night.

Not softness.

Evan Ashford probably did not possess softness.

But for one brief moment, he had looked... exposed.

Ava hated that she noticed.

—

By seven-thirty, Ashford Estate was fully awake.

Staff moved efficiently through endless corridors while the smell of expensive coffee filled the mansion.

Ava followed Mrs. Hastings toward the west wing archives, trying not to stare openly at the absurd luxury around her.

“This section is older than most museums,” Mrs. Hastings explained while unlocking enormous wooden doors. “The Ashfords collected historical material for generations.”

The doors opened.

Ava stopped walking completely.

“Oh my God.”

Rows upon rows of manuscripts stretched endlessly beneath warm golden lighting. Ancient maps. Leather-bound volumes. Handwritten letters preserved behind glass.

It was heaven for someone like her.

“You’ll catalogue damaged material first,” Mrs. Hastings said. “And Mr. Ashford specifically requested supervision before any restoration handling.”

Ava frowned slightly.

“Mr. Ashford doesn’t trust me already?”

Mrs. Hastings looked amused. “Mr. Ashford trusts almost nobody.”

Fair enough.

The older woman left shortly after, allowing Ava to explore.

For the next hour, she completely disappeared into work.

This was where she felt most like herself.

Not the girl carrying trauma.

Not the orphan surviving on scholarships and exhaustion.

Just Ava.

Focused.

Capable.

Alive.

She carefully examined an eighteenth-century manuscript while making notes in neat handwriting.

Completely unaware someone was watching her.

Evan stood near the upper balcony overlooking the archives.

Silent.

Observing.

She worked differently than he expected.

No carelessness.

No pretending.

No obvious fascination with wealth.

She handled centuries-old texts with almost reverent attention.

And strangely—

She looked peaceful for the first time since arriving.

“You’re staring.”

Evan glanced sideways.

Sophia leaned against the railing beside him with an infuriating smirk.

“I’m assessing an employee.”

“You’ve never assessed anyone for forty minutes before breakfast.”

“I have meetings.”

“And yet here you are.”

Evan ignored her.

Sophia looked downstairs toward Ava thoughtfully. “She’s pretty.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

“She’s also the only woman who talks to you like you’re annoying.”

“She is annoying.”

Sophia grinned. “Exactly.”

Evan gave her a warning look.

It did not work.

“You like interesting people,” Sophia continued smugly. “And she’s clearly interesting.”

“I don’t date employees.”

“You don’t date emotionally either.”

Before Evan could respond, Ava suddenly climbed a small ladder near one of the higher shelves.

Sophia winced immediately. “That ladder looks unstable.”

Right on cue, one side shifted dangerously.

Ava lost balance.

“Shit—”

The ladder tilted sharply.

Before she could hit the floor, strong arms caught her roughly mid-fall.

Ava gasped.

Books scattered everywhere.

For one suspended second, she found herself pressed against Evan Ashford’s chest.

Solid.

Warm.

Far too close.

Her breath caught unexpectedly.

Evan’s grip tightened instinctively around her waist to steady her.

And both froze.

Because proximity changed things.

Up close, Ava smelled like coffee and rainwater.

Up close, Evan’s face looked even more unfairly beautiful — sharp jawline, grey eyes, dark hair slightly messy this morning.

Dangerously attractive.

Ava immediately stepped away.

“I had it handled.”

“You were falling.”

“Technically.”

“You would’ve broken your neck technically.”

His irritation sounded real.

Sophia appeared downstairs trying very hard not to look entertained.

“Should I call this your first romantic interaction?”

Both of them looked at her immediately.

“No,” Ava and Evan said together.

Sophia nearly died laughing.

Ava crouched quickly to gather fallen papers, mostly to avoid eye contact.

Unfortunately, Evan crouched beside her at the same moment.

Their hands brushed.

A tiny accidental touch.

Still—

Ava flinched.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Evan noticed instantly.

His gaze sharpened slightly.

Fear response.

Interesting.

“You react like someone expecting pain,” he said quietly.

Ava stiffened.

“And you analyze people too much.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

She finally looked at him directly then.

Storm-grey eyes meeting colder storm-grey eyes.

“You’re not entitled to one.”

For a second, tension pulled tightly between them again.

Then smoke drifted faintly from somewhere nearby.

Ava smelled it before seeing anything.

Her entire body froze instantly.

Smoke.

Burning.

Heat.

No.

Not again—

Her breathing turned shallow.

The archive room suddenly felt too small.

Too warm.

Too dangerous.

Evan noticed the exact moment panic overtook her expression.

“Ava?”

She stepped backward immediately.

“There’s smoke.”

Sophia looked confused. “It’s probably just the kitchen fireplace—”

But Ava was no longer listening.

Her hands trembled violently now.

Vision blurring.

Fire alarms screaming in memory.

Screams.

Flames swallowing walls—

“Ava.”

Evan’s voice cut sharply through the panic.

She looked at him, breathing unevenly.

And for the first time since arriving at Ashford Estate—

Evan Ashford saw genuine terror in her eyes.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***