‘I’m not joking, Z.’
Livvie chooses this moment to stroll in. ‘Tell. Me. Everything.’
I open my mouth to speak, but I have no idea where to start. I turn to Nico.
He steps forward as I accept the several bars of Cadbury’s Livvie shoves my way. ‘So we went to meet Cole Hartmann today, you know Beckett Deluxe Design is designing his new casino and hotel.’
‘Yes, the one that your brothers know nothing about yet and are liable to lose their shit over?’ Livvie turns to me for confirmation.
‘The very one.’ I’m already ripping open the chocolate, shoving square after square in, moaning as it melts on my tongue.
Livvie’s blue eyes widen as she watches me stuff my face. ‘Jesus, was he that awful?’
‘Awful?’ Nico cries, fanning himself. ‘He was sex in a suit.A very powerful—I’ve got a giant cock and I know exactly what to do with it type of suit. He was fucking gorgeous—slightly intimidating, but I held my own.’ He puffs out his chest like a pigeon.
‘It was California.’ I cut to the chase, blurting between mouthfuls.
Livvie’s jaw almost hits the floor. ‘Fuck. Off.’
My two best friends spend the next three hours drinking a bottle of wine each, ordering takeout and interrogating me about every word Cole and I exchanged. By the time they’ve dissected it, then analysed it like they’re a couple of qualified psychiatrists, I am exhausted.
Yet when they finally leave, and my head hits the pillow, sleep refuses to come. A million memories flood through my brain as I struggle to process the enormity of what happened today.
If I thought my brothers would go mad about me taking the Hartmann contract, how are they going to feel about him fathering their nephew?
And never mind them, after weeks of readying myself to do this alone, I need to prepare for the fact I’m going to have to share my baby—with a man who will never be welcome in my family’s home. A man, who no matter how much I’m supposed to dislike, even after months of being apart from, I still want to throw myself into his arms.
The following morning, Tate and Felstead escort me to the office. Parking is notoriously impossible to find anywhere in Dublin. I breathe a sigh of relief when Felstead spots a space on the street about twenty metres from my office. I grab my Prada bag, smooth down the ivory shift dress I picked out for today, and fluff my hair. I catch a flash of my reflection in the windows as I exit the vehicle. Despite my lack of sleep, myskin is still glowing. I swear, if I could bottle these pregnancy hormones, I could sell them for millions.
We stroll past a homeless man on the short walk to the office. There’s something familiar about him. It’s probably not the first time he’s shacked up on his tattered tartan blanket on this street. He has one arm crooked around a shabby-looking dog. In front of them sits a cardboard hand-written sign that says Help Me Feed My Fur Baby.
Naturally, my eyes well with tears, because I’m an emotional wreck these days. I stop, pluck out a hundred euro note from my bag and hand it to him. The top half of his face is covered with a tatty baseball cap, the bottom half by a rough beard, making it impossible to say if he’s handsome or not, or even determine his age, but his eyes light as he accepts the money. His rough hand clings to mine for a beat longer than is normal. My bodyguards bristle beside me. The man squeezes, then eventually lets go. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes fall to my swollen stomach. ‘That’s a blessing.’
I nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. Oh jeez, when will this stage pass?
As we get closer to the office building, we spot two black glossy vans outside the front door. Tate and Felstead turn to each other and exchange a frown. Both of them reach for their weapons as they form a protective wall in front of me. My heart lurches in my chest.
They’re not Beckett vehicles… they’re… as we step closer, I see two men struggling with enough orchids to fill Kew Gardens. The logo emblazoned on the side of the van is Flowers For Forever.
What the actual fuck?
‘Careful, it could be a ploy,’ Felstead warns, ushering me back.
‘Yeah, death by pollen count,’ I snort, pushing past him and striding into my office building. The entire reception areais covered with hundreds of stunningorchids—not any type of orchids though—white phalaenopsis orchids—the exact same I’d stopped to admire with Cole that evening on our way to dinner.
A blush creeps up my cheeks.
‘Looks like someone has an admirer,’ Felstead notes wryly.
Tate and I exchange a glance. ‘Plausible deniability,’ he mouths at me, and I smirk.
Nico is nestled amongst the flowers with three other members of my design team. ‘These flowers cost three hundred euro a stem.’ He waggles his eyebrows at me. ‘Someone has got it bad for you.’ He holds up a tiny white card. I take before he opens it, because my PA has zero boundaries when it comes to my private life.
Looking forward to getting reacquainted, Irish.
C x
My foolish heart flutters. It’s a battle not to beam.
