Morning Regrets

A thousand jackhammers drilling in unison couldn't compete with the pounding headache that throbbed viciously behind Grayson Blackwood's temples. He forced his eyes open, squinting against the relentless sunlight piercing through the thin, cream-colored curtains.

"Bloody hell," he groaned, pressing his fingers against his skull, hoping to ease the ache.

"Language," a sultry voice purred from beside him. "Maybe you should ask nicely next time."

Grayson jolted upright, heart nearly stopping in his chest as he turned toward the source of the voice. Lying next to him, tangled in the expensive sheets of his bed, was a tall, curvy woman with disheveled platinum-blonde hair and a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Who the hell are you?" he blurted, blinking hard.

She giggled, clearly amused by his reaction. "Mary," she replied with a teasing wink. "Not exactly a saint, though. Wanna go for another round, handsome?"

Grayson grimaced, running a hand over his face. What was I thinking? He hadn't been. That much was obvious. Last night was a blur of drinks, loud music, and… Ava.

That petite, fiery woman with the striking green eyes who'd spat a drink all over him at the bar. God, he could still feel the dampness of that shot soaking into his baby-blue shirt—brand new and expensive, too.

The memory came flooding back in full, humiliating detail. The way she'd stared at him, wide-eyed and blushing like a schoolgirl. Then, just when he thought she was about to kiss him or say something sweet—bam! She'd sprayed him like a garden hose, alcohol and all.

And because his ego couldn't take the hit, he'd stormed off and let Mary, or whatever her real name was, drag him back here for a night he could barely remember.

"Well?" Mary prompted, running a perfectly manicured hand up his bare chest.

Grayson pulled away, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Sorry, uh… Mary. I've got somewhere to be."

She pouted. "Seriously? After all that fun?"

"Yeah, well… duty calls."

His phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, vibrating with enough persistence to give him a whole new headache. One glance at the screen made him groan even louder.

Derek. Again.

His cousin had been blowing up his phone since last night, probably about the damn merger meeting scheduled for this morning. Grayson scowled. What did it matter? He wasn't part of the decision-making process. His father, Charles Blackwood, ran the empire with an iron grip. Grayson was just the charming distraction—entertainment for investors, a playboy who had zero interest in boardroom politics.

Ignoring the call, he shoved his legs into his crumpled designer jeans from the night before and grabbed his shirt off the floor, still faintly reeking of that spilled shot.

"Wait!" Mary protested as he headed for the door. "You can't just leave like this!"

"Watch me," he muttered, not bothering to look back.

"IT'S MARY!" she shouted after him.

"Sure it is," he mumbled under his breath, slamming the door shut behind him.

God, he loved one-night stands.

No strings. No morning-after drama—at least most of the time. Grayson had a strict rule when it came to women: never the same one twice. It was better that way. No attachments. No complications.

Yet, despite his rule, he couldn't shake the image of Ava Langley from his mind.

He needed fresh air—fast.

Sliding into his sleek red Ferrari, he jammed the key into the ignition and tore out of the underground parking lot, tires screeching as he accelerated onto the open road. The crisp morning air did little to soothe his pounding head, but at least it was quiet.

As he sped down the highway toward the family estate, his mind wandered back to Ava.

What was it about her? She wasn't even his usual type—too small, too… stubborn. But damn, that mouth. The way she had challenged him, then blushed like crazy, made him feel something he couldn't quite shake.

He hadn't wanted her to leave the bar last night. Not really. And he definitely hadn't wanted her to spit whiskey all over his face either.

Grayson let out a humorless chuckle. "Women."

Fifteen minutes later, the towering gates of the Blackwood Estate came into view.

The place was nothing short of a fortress, sprawling across acres of pristine land. Vineyards, private gardens, and a shimmering lake lined the property, all meticulously maintained as part of his father's obsession with appearances.

As he pulled up to the front gate, Chase, the head of security, gave him a curt nod before opening the iron gates.

"Morning, Mr. Blackwood."

"Morning, Chase."

Once inside, he parked by the massive stone fountain in front of the mansion and stepped out.

Before he could make it to the front steps, a massive golden retriever came bounding toward him, tackling him to the ground with an excited bark.

"Dori!" Grayson laughed, struggling to fend off the enthusiastic dog.

"Long time, no see, little bro," a deep voice called from the porch.

Grayson looked up to see Derek Blackwood leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in obvious amusement.

"You're late."

Grayson groaned, finally managing to sit up while Dori continued slobbering all over him. "I was… busy."

Derek's smirk widened. "Yeah, I bet. Must've been real important, huh? Should I ask who this one was?"

Grayson shot him a glare, brushing dog hair off his shirt. "None of your business, Derek."

"Actually, it is my business. Dad's expecting us in the conference room in ten minutes. You remember? The merger meeting?"

Grayson rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. The Bass Ltd. Deal. I'm just here for moral support, right? Dad doesn't actually expect me to contribute anything useful."

Derek's smile faded slightly. "You're part of this family, Grayson. Whether you like it or not, people pay attention when you're in the room. Try not to embarrass us this time."

Grayson scowled. "Please, when have I ever embarrassed the Blackwood name?"

Derek raised a brow. "Do you want the list alphabetically or chronologically?"

"Smartass," Grayson muttered under his breath, straightening his shirt as he followed Derek inside the estate.

The interior was as extravagant as ever—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and expensive artwork that probably cost more than his entire car collection combined.

Yet, despite the grandeur, Grayson felt as out of place as ever.

Because no matter how much wealth or power his family flaunted, it never filled the void inside him.

And lately, he couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was missing.

Ava Langley flashed in his mind again.

And he had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be easy to forget