Page 5 of Shattered Union

I push the door open and laugh. “Grab a pint or two this evening.”

He winks at me. “Will do, have a good one.”

“You too.” I close the door behind me and set the wheels of my bag on the ground.

The taxi pulls off and I narrow my eyes when I hear a car door close and see Denis striding toward me.

“I’m not in the mood, Denis. I’m just home,” I snap as I stroll toward my house. “Come back another day, or better yet, not at all.”

I look up at my home and pride fills me. I worked my arse off to get this house. Dad gave both Maverick and I bars here in Dublin, and he told us we were to do as we wished with it. It was our present for turning eighteen. Mav sold his within a month. I made mine a success and managed to not only purchase three more here in Dublin along with two in London, I also purchased my home. It cost me close to two million. It needed a hell of a lot of work, but it was worth it in the end.

“I owe you an explanation,” Denis says, keeping strides with me.

I reach into my bag for my keys and open my front door. “You owe me nothing. We had sex, Denis. Sex. That was it.”

He pushes me into my home and slams the door closed behind us. “Bullshit,” he snarls. “That’s fucking bullshit and you know it.”

I sigh because he’s right. It was a hell of a lot more than just sex. I thought there was something between us, but he disappeared for almost a month. “What the hell am I supposed to think? Hmm, I mean, it’s been a month since I last saw you.” I can’t keep the anger from my words.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Every time I came by your house, you were gone. I don’t have your number, hell, don’t even know your surname. Your girl told me you were gone, and she said you’d be back today.”

Damn it, Ava.

"I had to go to London for some business. I apologise I didn't inform you, but as you said, I don't know you all that well." My bitchiness is out in full force. I don't have the energy for this shit. "Look, Denis, I'm tired. All I want to do is shower, order pizza, watch a shitty film, and then go to bed."

His green eyes soften, his lips twitch, and he moves closer to me. Crap. "Go shower, sweetheart, then we'll eat and talk." His tone filled with authority.

I sigh. "What about Mr. Need for Speed out there? Will he be staying?"

He grins at me this time, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "No, sweetheart, he won't be. I'll be sending him away."

I know what he's alluding to, that he'll be spending the night here with me. I turn on my heels and move through my home toward the stairs. I'm not arguing with him, but just because he thinks he's staying, doesn't mean I'm putting out. I'm bone fucking tired and am ready to crash.

Thirty minutes later, I hear the doorbell sound. I'm just out of the shower and contemplating what I should wear. Usually, when I'm lounging around the house, I'll just wear a tank top and shorts, but I don't want to give Denis any more ideas, so I'm thinking of putting on the ugliest, rattiest onesie I own and seeing his reaction.

I go for comfort instead of annoying the handsome man somewhere in my house. I forgo a bra; my breasts aren't that big, I rarely need to wear one, and I despise wearing them. I pull on my sleep shorts and matching tank, then slip my feet into my hot pink warm fluffy slippers. My hair's tied up into a messy knot on the top of my head. Satisfied I look somewhat respectable around company, I make my way downstairs.

I find Denis lounging in the living room. He's removed his suit jacket, the sleeves to his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. He looks the epitome of relaxed. As much as it annoys me, I enjoy seeing him relaxed in my space.

"Pizza here?" I question as I step into the room. I don't smell food.

He shakes his head. "Not yet. That was Michael. He brought me some spare clothes for this evening."

I nod. I knew the arsehole wouldn't leave. "He bring sweatpants?"

Denis grins, his eyes bright with humour. "Sweetheart, I don't own a pair of sweatpants."

I gape at him with my nose turned up in disgust. "You're joking me?"

His grin widens. "Nope, I work long fucking days and I live in my suits."

I scrunch my nose up. "Now you're going to be uncomfortable." I hate wearing my work clothes when I'm home and relaxing.

He shrugs. "I'll be grand. The pizza should be here soon, they're busy."

"It's a Friday night, Denis, there's nowhere in the city that's not busy."

He tilts his head in concession. "So, you were away on business?"

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