Page 19 of A Billionaire Abroad

She could get used to this.

Chapter Seven

Every invitation had been accepted. The rooftop terrace looked amazing. The waitstaff wove around effortlessly with hors d’oeuvres and finger foods. The band played toe-tapping music without preventing mingling and conversations.

Keighley acted as go-between for all the bits and pieces, checking on things and answering questions for the people behind the scenes. Conall put out the proverbial fires, though there weren’t many. They exchanged a few high-fives, tossed each other thumbs-up across the way. All in all, the night went off without a hitch.

Even Sterling paused his schmoozing long enough to tell them, “This turned out fine.” Considering he’d apparently said somethingreallyinsulting only a few days earlier, she took that as a compliment. “When you’re done here tonight, submit your invoice to my business manager.”

Conall nodded. Keighley offered an “okay” and that was it.

As Sterling walked away, Keighley said to Conall, “That was less rude than I’d braced myself for.”

“I’d guess he didn’t want a scene,” Conall said.

“I wouldn’t have made a scene.”

He shook his head. “But he knows I might have.”

She took his hand and pulled him aside where they could talk with a little privacy. “What did you say to him that morning in the lobby after I went back to my room?”

“A few home truths is all. He knows where I stand.”

She stepped closer. “And where do you stand?”

“With you.” He pressed the same feather-light kiss to her lips he had once before.

A shiver slid down her spine even as her heart dropped to her toes. “I’ll be standing in New York tomorrow.”

“I’m doing my best not to think about that,” he said. “The Atlantic’s an awful big ocean, Keighley.”

“I know.”

The kitchen coordinator motioned to her from across the way.

“You’d best go,” Conall said. “No point ending the night with a disaster.”

She hoped he was talking about the kitchen and not the confession they’d been tiptoeing toward.

In the end, she couldn’t be sure. He sent her a text as everything was wrapping up, saying another event that night was short-staffed for cleanup and he needed to go help them find a solution.

She texted back.

I head to the airport at 8 tomorrow.

Surely she was going to get to see him one more time before she left.

8 in the MORNING?

She smiled. She could hear his voice in her head saying that with laughing shock. She was going to miss him.

This trip to Dublin had seemed like the perfect opportunity for getting to know Sterling better. Spending even another moment with the billionaire no longer held any appeal. But her heart was breaking at the thought of an ordinary, amazing, exactly-what-she-dreamed-of Irishman.

Fate was sometimes a total jerk.

***

She didn’t hear from Conall that night or the next morning before she checked out of the hotel. She made it through security and customs and all the way to the gate where her flight to New York would be taking off. Not a word.