I’ve hardly seen or spoken to my friends this week, primarily because I can’t lie for toffee and I’m not ready to admit what I did with Ronan the other night. It’s hard enough to process without those two hopeless romantics wading in with their ten cents’ worth. It was what it was, and now it’s over.
Ashley links her arm through mine as we stroll across the polished concrete floor, admiring the work of our super talented friend and celeb spotting. The place is crawling withthem. Real celebs, not bloggers like me. Actors, models, singers, you name it, they’re here.
‘Who is minding the girls tonight?’ Ashley knows my dads are away. She also understands that I could write the names of people I trust to mind them on a piece of paper the size of a stamp.
‘I asked the neighbours’ teenage daughter if she’d do it. Shona’s only sixteen, but she’s really mature. The kids love her because she’s a “big girl”.’ And my only option, given my dads are still sunning themselves cruising around the Mediterranean.
My core clenches as I recall last week’s babysitter.
I’ve never come so hard in my life, nor am ever likely to again.
Unless…
No, Savannah.
Just NO.
Think of the book deal. Think of the blog subscribers. Think of the brand.
Besides, Ronan’s probably out in Elixir or some other fancy bar right now, looking for his next conquest and I can’t blame him. I can’t give him what he wants, no matter how badly I want to.
I should be proud of my restraint, my commitment to my brand.
Instead, I’m kicking myself. If it was only going to be that one time, I should have gone hell for leather on him. I’m such an idiot. I might not be able to start something, but if I ever find myself in a similar situation with him, alone and away from prying eyes, it would be hard to let the opportunity slip by a second time.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t erase the image of him between my legs, watching like a horny teenager.
‘Touch your tits for me.’
‘Good girl.’
Why, oh why, do I have to choose between my career and my carnality?
‘Are you okay?’ Ashley arches a quizzical eyebrow.
‘Yeah, why?’ I take a sip from my glass, hoping the chilled bubbles will cool me down.
They don’t.
Concern touches Ashley’s tone. ‘You spaced out for a minute there.’
‘Sorry, I’m tired.’ It’s the truth.
I’m emotionally wrecked from fantasising about Ronan all week and physically wrecked because I’ve been sneaking into the gym every morning to use the pool.
Not just because of the shoot. Stupidly, a part of me wants to impress Ronan. Craves his approval. His compliments and his praise. I despise how clumsy I am in the water next to him. Clumsy and helpless isn’t my style.
My technique is improving with each day.
I can’t wait to show him what I can do tomorrow. I need to hear those two little words fall from his lips again, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.Good girl.
‘Sexy Olympic swimmer at four o’clock.’ Ashley whispers gleefully, squeezing my arm.
My head whips round to see the man I’ve been fantasising about all week. Okay, all year, truthfully, even if I thought he was an asshole.
Ronan clutches a glass of champagne, his sharp oceanic eyes scanning the room. He’s wearing tailored navy suit trousers and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned powerful forearms. It’s a far cry from his usual sexy swim shorts, but he looks good enough to eat.
His presence here shouldn’t be such a surprise. Anyone who’s anyone was invited. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me.
