Page 19 of The Fiancé (Close Quarters 4)

Hence why I don’t date anymore. A year ago I realised that it was impossible to juggle everything, and I’ve never enjoyed the head games. So that’s why this arrangement suits me fine...even if I’m going to give myself blue balls from hell.

I pause outside her door and knock.

“Coming!” There’s a thud followed by anoofand then the door swings open. Ava’s wearing a simple black dress—not the one my assistant procured for her—but it suits her perfectly.

The cut is subtly flared from the waist, so it skims her hips, falling to her knees in a soft, rippling sheet. The bodice crosses over her bust and there’s a tie at one hip that strangely gets me hot and bothered. I wonder if I tug on that string whether the whole garment will open up.

“Ready to go? I’ll grab my bag and...” Her voice trails off as her eyes snag on the velvet box I pull from my pocket. “Oh.”

“You’ll need to wear this until we’re done.” I’m not sure what the protocol is. I feel like my opening the box for her is a bit too...real. Instead, I hand it to her.

Ava runs her thumb over the velvet before opening it. “Wow.”

“Do you like it?”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter if I do but... I do.” She smiles and it’s free and uninhibited and so damned genuine that the breath stills in my lungs. “It’s really beautiful.”

The ring is unique. When I ducked into the jewellery store this morning, the blue stone immediately caught my attention. It’s an oval cut, surrounded by diamonds, and there’s something charmingly traditional about it. Which is how Ava strikes me. “It suits you.”

She slides the ring onto her finger. “Is it a sapphire?”

“Yes.”

“That’s my birthstone.” Her smile fades a little. “You know, I thought the first time I wore a ring on this finger it would mean something.”

I’ve never considered myself a sentimental person, because such traits are a liability, but hearing that hint of regret in her voice shifts something inside me. Something that I don’t want shifted.

“Apparently it’s bad luck to wear a ring on this finger before you’re married. My mum told me that once,” she says with a snort. “Old wives’ tales.”

“I would think that there’d be a million other things that would cause bad luck in relationships before that.”

“Been a while since you had a girlfriend, huh?” she teases. Her fingers toy with the ring, twisting and turning it around her finger so the blue stone winks at me as if it knows all my secrets.

But I won’t bite. “I don’t talk about my love life.”

“Ever?” She cocks her head.

“Ever.”

“Why?”

“It’s private. And our being together now isn’t an excuse to play twenty questions.” The words come out a little harder than I intend, but ever since I took the role of CEO of Moretti Enterprises, the press have been relentless. Hounding. Intrusive.

They’re all hoping for a front-page-worthy outburst, poking and pushing me so the pain of my past will bubble to the surface. Advertisers might think that sex is the big seller, but I’m convinced pain sells more. And the media preys on it.

“Maybe it would be quicker for you to give me a list of conversation topics thatareacceptable,” Ava says, grabbing her bag from the bed and slinging it over one shoulder. “Because every time I ask a question, you act like I’m interrogating you. Unless, of course, that’s your not-so-subtle way of saying you have no interest in talking to me.”

“Even if that was the case, something tells me you’re the persistent type.” I fight back a smile as we walk through the apartment, her heels clicking against the polished boards. Even with the pencil-thin lady stilts, she’s still a shorty.

“I can be quite loud when it’s required.”

I laugh and scrub a hand over my chin. I didn’t shave, and the prickles rub against my palm. “So you’re a screamer, huh?”

“I don’t mean...not like... Get your mind out of the gutter,” she says, whacking me with the back of her hand. “I was not talking aboutthat.”

“That?”

“You knowwhat I mean.” Her eyes plead with me not to tease her anymore, but I can’t help myself.

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