‘Looks like you’ve got yourself a date.’ I shrug.
‘That was the premise of our entire agreement.’ Our eyes meet, and something unspoken passes between us.
A question? Or a reminder that that’s all this thing between us is supposed to be?
She stares at the pink and white flashing lights in the corner of the room. ‘You know, it’s actually really pretty.’
‘Not nearly as pretty as you.’ It’s out before I can stop myself. ‘I’ll get us another drink.’
We spend the rest of the evening curled up on the couch flicking through Hallmark movies and polishing off the wine.
It’s oddly more intimate than the fact her panties are tucked in my pocket.
ChapterTwenty-Five
AVA
Saturday 9th December
I spent last Christmas Day at the Huxley Estate, so its grandeur isn’t new to me, yet the sight of the pristinely manicured lawns and the majestic castle towering ahead still steals the breath from my chest.
Last year, Nate’s crazed fans had camped outside our parents’ house, along with the country’s most shameless paparazzi. Spending Christmas there simply wasn't an option. Nate’s agent, Jayden Cooper, invited us all here instead. Jayden’s brother, Ryan, and his wife, Sasha, own this castle. They live in it most of the year, but the weeks it’s empty, they hire it out for a ludicrous amount of money. Which only reinforces what I already suspected: Cillian’s law firm must be doing pretty damn well.
‘It’s something else, isn't it?’ Cillian murmurs, blowing out a breath.
‘It really is.’ The castle’s main entrance comes into view. Two suited porters flank the wrought iron doors. A thick, red carpet lines the entrance to the atrium inside. ‘I think I might get married here.’
Cillian offers me a wry glance and shakes his head. ‘Not today, you’re not, sweetheart.’
I slap his thigh playfully. ‘Duh. I’m still looking for my perfect match.’
Thick dark eyebrows raise skywards. ‘You really think he exists?’
‘I know he does.’Because he’s sitting right next to me.
I can deny it as much as I like, but the more time I spend with Cillian-Can’t-Crack-A-Smile-Callaghan, the more I think he’s as close to perfect for me as they get.
Apart from the teeny tiny fact that he doesn’t believe in love, marriage, fairytales or forevers. That aside, beneath his stern sturdy exterior he’s kind, considerate, generous, hot as hell, and utterly gifted.
Life can be so unfair. I exhale a heavy sigh.
‘Are you okay?’ His palm brushes my thigh, concern etches into those huge swirling twin pools. ‘Are you nervous?’
‘No.’ Cillian mentioned his parents would be here, as well as every employee on his payroll and their partners but that doesn’t faze me. Peopling is a skill I’ve perfected over the years. Though Iwouldlike Cillian’s parents to like me just in case this thing between us blooms into something more.
Eugh! There I go again. I need to push this daftness out of my head. Cillian doesn’t want me. Not like that, anyway.
I force a smile. ‘I’m good, thanks.’
‘Did you do as I asked?’ His fingers slide higher up my thigh, skimming just beneath the hem of my dress. I swat them away playfully.
‘You’ll have to wait and see.’ Who am I kidding? We both know how this is going to end. Especially after last night. The scales are seriously unbalanced, but I spent this morning formulating a plan to even them out.
Cillian parks beside the dolphin water feature and struts round to my side to open the door for me.
One of the porters greets us heartily and takes Cillian’s car keys and ushers us up the steps, insisting he’ll take our luggage to the room.
Inside the huge, dome-shaped atrium, we’re greeted by the crackling and hissing of a log fire and a festive piano soundtrack. A sixteen-foot Instagram-worthy Christmas tree punctuates the centre of the room. Every silver and blue bauble is evenly spaced. There isn't a pine needle out of place. Tasteful white lights twinkle to dim before brightening again.
