by Annie West
‘Please—let me, madam.’ It was Sandra, the housekeeper, appearing out of nowhere, whipping things off the table.
Ava sat back, realising there was coffee running down the sleeve of her robe. Hastily she tucked it up so it couldn’t drip on Flynn.
Moments later Sandra had efficiently replaced the tablecloth, topped up Flynn’s coffee and headed out through the door, her arms full of the stained cloth.
‘Sorry about that.’ Ava smiled at Flynn as she re-tied her robe that kept slipping open. ‘I got a little carried away.’
‘No harm done.’ He reached for the coffeepot. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Yes, please. I function better after coffee. I’m not so good in the morning.’ She waited for him to make some bantering comment—perhaps a reference to the fact that they’d both been wide awake, making love as the sun came up, but he said nothing.
‘Here you are.’ Flynn slid a cup to her. His smile was perfunctory rather than warm.
‘Flynn? I didn’t spill any on your suit, did I?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ He picked up his coffee and sipped, his eyes flicking to the financial pages.
Ava stilled in the act of reaching for her cup. Silly, but she felt as if she’d been dismissed. She opened her mouth, then realised she was about to apologise again and snapped it shut.
‘So, you have a busy day lined up?’
Ebony eyes met hers again and she relaxed a fraction as familiar heat bored into her. There it was again, that connection. She smiled, happiness surging at the simple joy of being here, with her man.
Flynn nodded and looked back at the newspaper.
Ava’s smile faded.
‘Yes, meetings all day, making up for the appointments I shifted last week. You’ll be busy too.’
‘Absolutely.’
She’d go to her flat and begin packing. Moving out would take some organisation. Plus she needed work clothes. It was back to the office tomorrow.
‘We’re going to a dinner tonight and I’d like you to find something gorgeous to wear.’
‘I’m sure I’ll find something in my wardrobe.’ She leaned forward. ‘Where are we going?’
Flynn was an expert at finding secluded romantic restaurants.
He shook his head, his gaze travelling over her silky floral robe. ‘No, buy something new.’ At her questioning look he added, ‘Something formal. Something head-turning.’
His expression as he surveyed her, from the hand clutching her loose robe to the froth of untamed hair clouding around her head, wasn’t exactly approving. His eyes were unreadable, curiously blank.
Out of nowhere doubt stabbed. A sliver of remembrance. Of her father’s glare when she’d let him down by appearing anything less than perfect.
She shoved the thought aside. Flynn wasn’t glaring—just looking.
‘I have a formal gown. I wore it to a charity gala I organised.’
Flynn shook his head. ‘Buy yourself something brand-new. Something no one has seen. No need to worry about the cost. Here.’ He fished out his wallet and withdrew a credit card. ‘This is for you.’
Ava picked it up, staring at the sleek platinum card.
Ava Marshall. It was the first time she’d seen her new name.
Despite his teasing use of her married name in private, she and Flynn hadn’t discussed whether she’d keep her surname. Funny that he’d taken it for granted that she’d take his. Was he a traditionalist after all?
Not that it bothered her. Her father had changed his name to Cavendish before she was born because it had sounded more upmarket than plain old Cooper. He’d been determined to shake off his working class roots and become a high-flyer financially and socially. He’d been meticulous in ensuring he and his family projected an image of old wealth and class, no matter how fake. Marrying her upper-class mother had been one more crucial step on his upward path.
Ava would far rather share Flynn’s name than use a construct of her father’s.
‘Thank you.’ She put the card down. ‘But I have my own money.’
They’d have to discuss that. She wasn’t naïve enough to think her modest salary working for a children’s charity would cover half their joint expenses. But it went against the grain to splurge on Flynn’s money. It was one thing to let him shower her with a romantic wedding, but now they were back in the real world and Ava was always meticulous about paying her way.
Flynn’s hand clamped hers to the table, the card caught beneath it.
‘Keep it, Ava. Use it.’ His gaze was serious. ‘I want you to look spectacular tonight. In fact, buy several outfits. We’ll be out and about a lot.’ He paused and after a moment a smile skated across his lips. ‘No point draining your savings to impress my associates.’
‘It’s a business dinner?’
Stupid to feel disappointed that it wasn’t a romantic meal for two. She knew Flynn had built his business from nothing. She was proud of the success he’d achieved and intended to support him.
He stroked her hand, sending a shiver of awareness scudding through her.
He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to be alone afterwards.’
His other hand brushed her lips, his thumb tugging at her bottom lip till her mouth opened on a sigh. Then his lips were there, expertly coaxing, drawing a response that made her toes curl and her blood sizzle.
When Flynn pulled back his eyes gleamed and Ava’s breath came in short, choppy gasps.
‘You make me want...’ His gaze seared and her pulse leapt.
It was still early. Far too early for him to go to the office. But already he was pulling away.
‘What do I make you want, Flynn?’
His slow smile was rapacious. He really did look like a corporate raider, with his elegant bespoke clothes and ruthless expression. His gaze dropped to her décolletage and she felt herself flush. Given half a chance she’d climb onto his lap and rip away every elegant, hand-stitched inch of clothing.
‘Later, Mrs Marshall.’
His hand slid from hers and the spell broke. He reached for his phone, glanced at the latest message, then pocketed it.
‘I have to go.’
‘But it’s not even eight.’ Ava knew she sounded needy—worse, whiny—but she couldn’t switch off as Flynn did. How did he do that?
‘My first meeting is in fifteen minutes.’
Already he was standing, reaching for his jacket. ‘So, you’ll get a dress? Something glamorous?’
‘If that’s what you want.’ Her voice held a trace of doubt.
It had been years since she’d done glamorous. Since leaving Frayne Hall she’d developed her own style. Her party clothes were fun and bright. They made her feel good. But they weren’t showy or sophisticated. It struck her that she’d deliberately shied away from anything that drew too much male attention.
‘I want...’ He paused, as if sensing her hesitation. ‘I want everyone to know how lucky I am to have you. And as tonight’s a formal event—’
‘Of course. I understand.’ Ava stood too, drawing her belt tight. ‘I’ll make sure I fit in, don’t worry.’
She’d make him proud of her.
It was only after he’d kissed her goodbye and left that Ava realised where her thoughts had taken her. That she planned to make Flynn proud of her not by doing something clever or generous or outstanding, but merely by looking glamorous. As if that was what really mattered.
A shadow flitted across her vision, darkening the morning brightness.
No. This wasn’t anything like her father’s insistence that she always look as if she’d stepped from a fashion magazine. Even as a child she’d been expected to project the image he wanted.
It was natural that Flynn wanted her to lo
ok her best.
There was no similarity to the way Michael Cavendish had shown off his beautiful wife and later his daughter to those awful predatory men.
Flynn loved her. He valued her for herself, not as a trophy or—worse—a tool to further his schemes.
Pushing her hair off her face, she grabbed her coffee and headed for the bathroom. She had a lot to do.
* * *
‘Sorry. Can you repeat that?’ Flynn leaned back in his leather swivel chair and scrubbed a hand down his face.
His PA darted him a surprised look.
Ruefully Flynn smiled, though it was more a grimace, each muscle pulled taut and hard. Just like the rest of him. Even after a morning at work arousal weighed his lower body and his skin felt too tight.
‘I’m having trouble concentrating.’
His mind kept straying to Ava. Beautiful Ava. With her just out of bed sleepy smile and flushed cheeks, her hair a downy cloud, her lips bare and temptingly kissable. Every time he’d tried to gather his thoughts and concentrate on tonight’s dinner, or getting out through the door to the office, he’d been distracted by the creamy flesh revealed when her wrap slid open, the shadowy cleft between her breasts, or the way her nipples stood proud against the fabric. He swallowed hard.
‘That’s understandable. You’re just back from your wedding. You should be with your bride.’
Flynn’s steel-haired, ultra-capable PA was watching him like an indulgent mother, as if pleased at his distraction.
For the first time ever he almost regretted his egalitarian work policies. He prided himself on being a model employer—generous, fair, acknowledging and rewarding good staff, always approachable.
Right now he didn’t want to be approachable. He didn’t want to be understanding. He needed no-nonsense focus.
Having a wife was far more distracting than he’d imagined.
He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.
‘Perhaps we should have pushed those meetings back another week.’ His PA looked at her schedule. ‘There’s nothing so urgent that a week would make a difference.’
‘No.’ Flynn shook his head.
He never let the grass grow beneath his feet. He’d been lucky in his youth to find a mentor who’d seen his promise despite his lack of qualifications, who’d encouraged his potential, teaching and advising till he’d branched out on his own. But everything he had he’d earned. He’d built his business by pursuing every opportunity with absolute determination. By planning carefully and acting decisively. By getting the best out of his people. By working harder than anyone he knew.
He thought of Ava, with the wind blowing her wheat-blonde hair around her face on that boat in Paris, her surprise and delight when she’d looked up and seen him.
Following through that day was one of the best decisions he’d ever made.
Flynn never wasted an opportunity. As a result his property empire spanned Europe and the US’s eastern seaboard. His personal fortune grew faster than current trends, and his social standing too.
Satisfaction stirred. He was on the way to having everything he wanted. Even his mum had finally acquiesced and moved into a new house in an exclusive development. No more leaky drains and cold north-facing rooms for her.
‘No. The schedule stays as is. In fact, I’d better get on to the German office about that new retail development.’ He glanced at his watch—a premium brand only the mega-wealthy could afford. ‘Tee up a conference call for five-thirty. Then tomorrow I’ll need a briefing on the Paris option.’ He checked his diary. ‘Block that in for six.’
His PA’s rounded eyes told him what she thought of him working into the evening so soon after his honeymoon.
Flynn met her stare, refusing to feel defensive. Ava wouldn’t thank him if he neglected his business and it turned belly-up, as her father’s had after he’d died. She wouldn’t be left penniless a second time.
He’d learned a lot from Michael Cavendish. He’d detested the man but envied him deeply: a man who’d shored up his wealth, prestige and power, controlling his world rather than letting it control him.
Flynn had been young when he’d learned life’s lessons about the value of power, the things Cavendish’s money could buy. Like a good education. Like Cavendish’s comfortable life instead of Flynn’s father’s untimely death. Like a family who had time to enjoy life instead of slaving long hours for others just to keep a roof over their heads.
He’d never forgotten those lessons. He wouldn’t stop till he had everything Cavendish had had. Wealth, power, respect, security. The ability to keep his family safe.
But he’d do it properly. Not by grinding people into the dirt, ruthlessly taking advantage of those less fortunate or powerful, as Cavendish had.
That would be his ultimate triumph. He scaled the heights but he prided himself on being a far better man. He worked ethically, supporting his workers, spreading the benefits of success. Doing it better than Cavendish. Proving his superiority over the man who’d so badly injured Flynn’s family.
Flynn sat back, feeling the familiar drive to succeed stiffen his resolve.
He smiled at his PA. ‘And check the progress of that purchase I left in Reynolds’ hands. I have important plans for the place. I want it wrapped up this week.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘THIS IS MY wife Ava. Ava, I’d like you to meet Alexandra and St John Hardwicke.’
Flynn smiled at the older couple, watching the man’s eyes widen in appreciation. His wife gave Ava a comprehensive assessment that took in everything from her hair, smoothed back and up in a style that made her look like a young Grace Kelly, to her silvery couture gown and matching stilettos. Her gaze lingered on Ava’s massive square-cut Ceylon sapphire ring.
Flynn had been surprised he’d had to work so hard to persuade Ava to accept the engagement ring. Previous lovers would have been in raptures over such expensive, exquisite jewellery.
Ava shook hands. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’ Her beautiful cut-glass voice sliced through the hum of conversation around them and her warm smile made them lean close.
‘I had no idea you were married, Flynn.’
‘We were married quite recently.’
His gaze narrowed at the way Hardwicke stared at Ava—like a dog sighting a juicy bone. But one look up at Flynn’s face and his expression turned bland again.
‘Recently?’ Alexandra Hardwicke frowned. ‘I didn’t hear anything about it. Did I miss it? I didn’t read a notice in the newspaper.’
Ava put her hand on his arm, the ring flashing in the light from the chandeliers.
Satisfaction thumped in Flynn’s chest. His ring. His wife. He covered her hand with his and was rewarded with a smile that lit him up inside.
‘No, there was no notice.’ Ava leaned forward, her voice conspiratorial. ‘It was a runaway match.’
‘Runaway?’ Pencilled eyebrows rose.
She nodded. ‘Flynn followed me to Prague, where I was holidaying, and swept me off my feet.’ Her sidelong glance from under her lashes turned up the heat inside him a notch. ‘We were married there.’
Her look wasn’t sultry, like some blatant invitations he’d had in the past. But the emotion in Ava’s face, the way her eyes shone as she looked at him, was far more potent. His blood sang. His chest expanded, full and heavy, as if he’d absorbed the inner radiance that made Ava glow.
Heat enveloped him. And a sense of excitement, of rightness so strong it almost made him forget why he was there—to grease the wheels of his latest negotiation.
‘An elopement?’ Alexandra Hardwicke moved closer. ‘How unorthodox. But how very romantic.’ She flashed Flynn a glance that made it clear she didn’t think he had a sentimental bone in his body. Obviously she knew his business reputation.
�
�Tell me more, my dear. Was it just the pair of you at the wedding?’
‘That’s how we wanted it. Just us.’
Again that dazzling look. Ava in love outshone any beauty he’d ever met.
Flynn shifted his feet, his heart hitting his ribs.
He’d known they’d be perfect together. And yet...such whole-hearted trust, such transparent adoration, was a little unnerving. It was a huge responsibility to be the cause of her happiness.
He’d never been put on a pedestal in his life—not even by his mother.
‘You didn’t even have family there?’
‘No. My brother is in the States right now, and Flynn’s mother is visiting relatives in New Zealand.’
Something new flickered deep inside. Guilt? His mother would have been there like a shot to see him marry. But that would have complicated everything. Better for her to absorb the news that he’d married her old boss’s daughter in her own time. He’d let nothing interfere with his plans to marry Ava...like probing questions from the person who knew him best.
‘When were you married? Recently, you said?’
‘Two days ago.’
‘Two days!’ Alexandra Hardwicke’s upper-crust voice edged towards a shriek, drawing the attention of others in the vast reception room. Her gaze turned to Flynn, astonishment on her well-bred face. ‘But you should be on your honeymoon!’
‘Oh, no. It’s fine. Really. We had time in Prague together. Besides, I’m due back at work tomorrow.’
‘You work? What do you do?’ The woman drew Ava close. ‘Let’s leave the men to their business.’ Her sharp gaze lifted to Flynn and her husband. ‘This dinner is just an elaborate ruse to keep their womenfolk happy while they talk profits and mergers.’
‘I’d guessed that,’ Ava murmured with a smile, letting herself be drawn away.
Flynn stood poised to step in if Ava showed signs of being overwhelmed by Alexandra Hardwicke. The woman was renowned for her arrogance as much as her nose for profit, despite the fiction that she left business to her husband. Any deal with Hardwicke would need his wife’s approval, which was why Flynn and Ava were here tonight. Until now it had been difficult to get close to them.
