‘I’m coming,’ I yell.
When I yank it open, it’s not my parents’ eager eyes staring back at me. It’s Cillian’s silver ones. And in his hands is a pizza box from La Dolce Vita.
My stomach flips, but it has more to do with the man himself, and his thoughtful gesture than the pizza.
In a pair of dark navy jeans and a blue sports jacket, he looks almost as enticing as the pizza. I glance down at my robe and bare feet. Not exactly catwalk ready, but if we’re going to go to Nate’s wedding as a fake couple, he may as well get used to it.
‘I know it’s early days, and this is probably going to come across as forward, but I think I might actually love you.’ I hold open the door and beckon him in.
‘If you could look that convincing when you meet Teagan, then I could probably look like I love you too.’
ChapterTen
CILLIAN
Saturday 2nd December
I follow Ava into her spacious living area, wondering for the millionth time, what the actual fuck I’m doing here. I could pretend I’m checking on her after last night, but the truth is, I can’t stop thinking about her.
The second I woke I checked my phone for texts, of which there were none.
With Phoebe at her friend’s house until this afternoon, I had too much time on my hands to think. Specifically, about the curve of Ava’s lips, the swell of her womanly hips, and the way her breasts heaved when she asked if it would be such a bad thing if I brought her home to my bed.
Ava drops onto a plush, L-shaped sofa that wraps around a low glass coffee table. She drops the pizza box onto the couch beside her and motions for me to sit down.
‘Are you going to eat that on the couch?’ It wouldn't happen in my house. Life is messy enough without adding physical food spillages to the mix.
‘Yep.’ She tilts her chin out defiantly and grins. Even hungover, and without a scrap of make-up she’s every bit as stunning as she was last night. And every bit as cheerful.
‘What if you make a mess?’ I sound like someone’s father. Oh wait – I am someone’s father.
‘My house, my rules.’
I shrug off my jacket, draping it across the back of the couch before I sit down. ‘This is a beautiful place you’ve got.’
A huge balcony with sliding doors offers panoramic views of Herbert Park and the trendy little boutiques of Ballsbridge. The entire penthouse is decorated in warm neutral tones and exudes sophistication and elegance.
It’s not what I expected. For a start, it must have cost a bomb, and if she’s looking for investors for her business, I can’t imagine she’s rolling in cash.
I should have pried last night. If she was drunk enough to ask me to stay, and call me daddy, then I’m pretty sure she would have told me anything.
‘Thanks.’ She opens the pizza box and dramatically inhales its steamy aroma. ‘It was a gift.’
‘A gift?’ I feel my eyes widen. ‘Who did you have to shag for this?’
‘Why? Do you want their number?’ Ava exhales a loud belly laugh. ‘What makes you think I had to shag somebody? Why are you always so cynical?’
‘I can’t help it. In my line of work, everything comes down to sex and assets. That’s what couples fight over. That’s usually why they file for divorce. Now and again, it’s amicable, but if they’re hiring me, it’s usually incredibly ugly.’
‘Why did you become a divorce lawyer?’ Ava takes a bite of pepperoni pizza before sliding closer and offering me the box. Her unique feminine scent clouds the air around my nostrils and my irresponsible dick jerks to life.
‘I thought you only shared your pizza with a real boyfriend?’ It’s the perfect deflection, and hopefully distraction, from the hard-on pushing against my pants.
‘Good point.’ She snatches back the box before I can take a slice. ‘Though, I’m happy to share a takeaway if there’s enough. I’m just not happy with random strangers shoving their fork into my food when I go out for dinner. Comprendo?’
‘That makes perfect sense. Then they’re shoving their fork into their mouth, then shoving it back into your dinner. You’ve no idea where anyone's mouths have been.’
‘Exactly.’ Ava’s eyes flicker with amusement. ‘Apart from we all know where yours has been for the past eighteen months – nowhere.’
