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I push my way through the door of her office—fuck her boss—and I’m pulled to an abrupt stop on the threshold when I see her on her phone, her hands sifting through various papers on her desk.
“Yes, I received your email too,” she says, and a nasty feeling lands in my gut. “I’ll have some schemes ready for you.” She nods, picking up a board and scanning it. “Yes, of course. Any particular day?” Another nod. “Okay, Mr. Van Der Haus.”
My back goes ramrod straight, and Ava stalls in her faffing, her eyes darting across her desk. “Goodbye, Mikael.”
And there it is. Mikael. First-name terms is the beginning. It’s also the end.
She’s engrossed now, her hands moving across designs, files, her mind whirling with ideas. I reach back for the door and open it again, closing it loudly. She still doesn’t look up, but her work colleague does, and his eyes glimmer with happiness.
“Ava.” He taps his pen on his mouse mat, his head tilting. “It’s someone for you-hoo.”
She looks up.
And flies back in her chair.
Her alarmed eyes get wider the closer I get to her desk. “Miss O’Shea,” I say calmly.
“Mr. Ward,” she breathes, glancing around cautiously.
“Aren’t you going to ask if I would like a seat?”
“Please.” She points a shaking hand to one of the chairs, looking at me in question as I lower. “What are you doing?”
“I’m here to settle an invoice, Miss O’Shea,” I say around a smile.
“Oh.” She doesn’t appreciate my killer beam. “Sally, can you deal with Mr. Ward, please?” Her eyes never move from mine. “He would like to settle his outstanding account.”
Unbelievable. She truly is.
“Of course,” Sally replies from behind me.
“Sally will look after you, Mr. Ward,” Ava says coolly, seeming to have located her poise.
“Only you,” I confirm, frowning when she closes her eyes and inhales deeply, like she needs the extra air. Then I clock her boss approaching from behind, and her actions make sense.
“Ava?” he asks, giving me the once-over.
“Patrick.” She forces a smile as she points a pencil at me. “This is Mr. Ward. He owns The Manor.” Her eyes speak to me, and I see the message there. She’s begging, and for the first time, I consider why she’s so worried. Is Patrick Peterson a dick? Would he fire her for getting involved with a client? “Mr. Ward,” she says. “Meet Patrick Peterson, my boss.”
“Ah, Mr. Ward,” Peterson sings. “I know your face.” He offers a hand, and I stand, accepting it.
“We met briefly at Lusso.”
“Yes, you bought the penthouse,” he chimes happily. I’ve dealt with many businessmen in my time. Some cool, playing their hands close to their chests, others transparent as fuck. This one here is as transparent as fuck. He wants in on my fortunes.
Sally approaches and her feet nearly leave the floor when Peterson grabs the papers in her hand. “Have you offered Mr. Ward a drink?” he asks her, and I see the panic on her face. Poor thing. She’s obviously of a nervous disposition. My guilt for yelling at her is back with a vengeance.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I rush to say. I don’t want a drink. I want to clear up a small matter with my girl. “I’ve just come to settle my account.”
“You shouldn’t have rushed in just for this.” He laughs, Ava scoffs, and I smile.
“I’ve been away.” Technically, that’s true. I’ve been away with the fairies. “My staff overlooked it.”
“I knew there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Peterson says, not seeming at all bothered by my outstanding payment. But it irks me no end to think he’s given Ava a hard time about it and, as a result, I’m now sitting here having to fix a problem that shouldn’t even be a fucking problem. “Was it business or pleasure?”
I can’t help myself. I cast a dark look on Ava. “Oh, definitely pleasure.”
She blushes terribly, and I’m left restraining my amusement.
