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“Good for me,” I whisper, my voice sounding husky to my own ears. “And good for you too, Ava.”
Desire is rumbling in her eyes, the same one that is running through me right now.
Time stops for that one moment. And then she shatters it.
She shoots away, as if panicked, yelling out, “Chloe, I’m heading out!’ and bolts out of the room as if hell is on her heels.
I watch her go, my cock demanding I follow her.
But I stay waiting for it to subside and for reason to return.
She’s not for you.
“Where did she go?” Chloe asks as she comes back into the room with a box in her hand.
“How would I know?” I glance down at the box. “What’s that?”
She shrugs. "Mom told me to give it to you last time I met her. Also, she wants me to ask you when you’ll come over for dinner again?”
Never,I want to say, but I make a noncommittal sound instead. I won't be visiting anytime soon, though. I have a few important business obligations to wrap up in the coming weeks. Seeing my mother is a stressor I don't need.
Especially now they’ve gotten it into their heads that I need to marry someone soon. And they are willing to throw whoever and whatever at me so long as the person has a last name they approve of. Like Hilton or Kennedy. A name that has the prestige their names didn’t before I became a billionaire.
“You should come to dinner this weekend," Chloe insists, and I don’t answer. She knows it’s a no. But I take the box from her hands. I already know what’s in it. Some apology wine from my mother or golf equipment from my father. Most likely the wine. If it was my father’s gift, it wouldn’t be wrapped.
I mean, sure it could be something else, but my parents rarely ever surprise me. They're as predictable as everything else in my life.
Except for her. Ava. She was the only unpredictable surprise to ever grace my life, and she was able to do it twice now.
Chapter Three
Ava
Mydaughterissittingon the steps, legs swinging as she stares into space.
The rest of the kids are yelling, exiting the preschool doors in swarms around her. Some are in hysterics, barely held back by the teachers. Others are happy to be going home, desperately searching for their parents.
My daughter is neither. She simply sits on the steps and looks thoughtful.
I know from experience that her mind is a million miles away. She probably doesn't even hear the ruckus. That brain of hers is probably off pondering one of life's great mysteries.
Speaking of mysteries, what the heck was Maddox doing? Why would he kiss me? But he didn’t, not really. That kiss wasn’t really a kiss. Maybe an almost kiss. Barely there, a brush of the lips.
No, there was tongue,I think. My heart thunders in my chest as I remember the sensation, the lick across my lower lip. The one that awoke nerve endings and fantasies I thought were long buried.
But in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t much of a kiss. Or at least that's what I've been trying to tell myself. It's definitely not enough to have me beat myself up or lose my mind over once again.
But it's just enough to set me on fire.
I shake my head to keep from remembering my pathetic reaction to him. I should know better by the now. With the amount of shit he put me through, I should have built immunity to Maddox Reign.
But how exactly does one get immune to a man like that?
I walk up the stairs and Mimi still doesn’t look up. Her little Cupid bow lips move and press intermittently as if she’s talking to herself. She doesn’t give any reaction to seeing me even when I’m standing right in front of her.
And then I tap her shoulder. “A penny for your thoughts?”
She jerks slightly and her eyes flicker up. A huge smile splits her face, dimples digging into her cheeks.
