The CEO (The Millionaire Malones Book 2)

by Victoria Purman

  ‘We’re going to have to trolley them inside over that very expensive floating wooden floor and hope like hell we don’t scratch it. It’s probably made from rare rainforest timbers or something.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ Ava yawned and stretched. ‘But let’s think about that tomorrow.’

  ‘You got plans tonight, sad old spinster?’

  ‘You really are awful,’ she replied with narrowed eyes. ‘Thanks for your kind concern but, no, I don’t have any plans. Except a bath and sleep.’

  ‘Paul didn’t call you for a date?’

  ‘Why yes, he did. And your neighbour and I are going out Friday night.’ She found a fake smile and held it. She needed to do this. She had to do this. She had to forget all about Callum. Then why did the whole thing feel so strange and awkward and wrong? Paul had sounded nice enough on the phone, with quite a deep, sexy voice in fact. They’d agreed to meet at a Bondi restaurant, famous for its pasta. And she’d dared herself not to be nervous. She was going to be the strong woman she was, who was simply dipping her toe into the dating pond to see what might happen. Because there was only room in any one person’s mind and heart for so many memories, right? And at her age, it was getting a little crowded in there and, if she made new memories—met new men, perhaps found herself in the middle of a hot man crush with someone new, instead of stuck in the middle of a never-ending unrequited passion with Callum Malone—she might be able to crowd him out until she didn’t think about him anymore.

  And she really, kinda desperately, needed to stop thinking about Callum.

  Andy crossed the area that tomorrow would be lawn and pointed up to the next level. ‘Don’t forget the pool before you go.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Ava asked, completely lost in her head.

  ‘The pool. We’ve had the hose on since yesterday so it should be almost full by now.’

  Ava saluted. ‘Right.’

  *

  When Ava arrived at the restaurant the following evening, wearing a new and extremely uncomfortable tight-fitting red dress and high red heels, she scanned the crowd looking for a man who fit Paul’s description.

  ‘He’s Italian looking, maybe he is Italian,’ Andy had told her earlier that afternoon on the phone when she’d called him in a last-minute panic. ‘He’s the same height as me, which makes him six foot four. Okay, five foot eleven. But he might be wearing a shoe with a heel so he might look more like six feet. His hair is black and cut short all over. I think he might be a cop. Or a secret agent. Or maybe in the military. God, I so wish he played for my team. Anyway, he’s tall and lean and he has smallish feet.’

  ‘You noticed his feet?’ Ava laughed.

  ‘Of course I did. He was wearing nice shoes, if that helps. But yes, his feet are not quite in proportion to the rest of him.’

  Ava skimmed the crowded restaurant and clenched her clutch purse under her arm. She was at the doorway. One step, she told herself. In you go. This might even end up with sex tonight and what better way to erase all thoughts of ever having sex with Callum than by having sex with someone else? An orgasm eraser, that’s what she needed. She needed to come so fiercely that the man taking her there, to that place where her limbs melted and her head throbbed, would be The Best Sex She’d Ever Had, which, surely, would have to wipe out her intuition that Callum would be The Best Sex She’d Ever Had.

  More like The Best Sex She’d Never Had.

  ‘Good evening. Do you have a booking?’

  ‘I do. In the name of Ava Gibson.’

  The waitress, all Mediterranean skin and huge brown eyes, checked the bookings and smiled. ‘Right this way, signora.’

  Ava bristled. She was definitely still a signorina, thank you very much. As she followed, she tried to keep that fake smile in place in case Paul saw her before she saw him. First impressions counted, she knew that better than anyone. The waitress turned a corner into a separate side room and she stopped so suddenly that Ava almost ran into the back of her.

  ‘Here you are. I’ll be back in a moment with the menus.’

  And when Ava looked across the table, there he was. Paul stood abruptly and held out a hand.

  ‘You must be Ava.’ His eyes met hers and they were warm and brown. And kudos to him, he hadn’t even checked her out. There had not been a sleazy tip-to-toe evaluation of her legs or her breasts or her too-tight dress.

  He was handsome. The sleeves of his navy shirt was turned up to mid-forearm—which were tanned and muscular—and he wore dark denim jeans. His smile seemed warm and he had a set of perfect choppers.

  She tried really hard to feel it, she really did. Here she was, out on a date for the first time in what felt like a million years. She’d made an effort, had frocked up, and the handsome Paul was smiling warmly at her as his handshake lingered.

  Nothing.

  She felt nothing.

  And then she knew that this had been a gigantic and foolish mistake.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Paul,’ she lied.

  ‘I suppose we have Andy to thank for this,’ Paul said with a grin as they released hands. He waited for her to sit first and then he followed.

  ‘I suppose we do. The food here is great.’

  ‘I’m glad you chose it. It’s had great reviews. I love Italian food, do you?’

  ‘I do.’

  He nodded at her, his confident chin held high. ‘I’m Italian.’

  ‘You look it,’ Ava said, trying to find a smile.

  When the waiter arrived with the wine list, Ava quickly chose a crisp Sauvignon Blanc and it didn’t take long for the bottle to arrive and their drinks to be poured.

  ‘Ava,’ Paul said, leaning in close, his arms crossed on the table. The little candle in the middle of the table cast a flickering light in his face. ‘That’s a beautiful name.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ten out of ten for polite flirting, Ava thought. Too bad it registered a zero on her personal Richter scale.

  ‘I don’t know what Andy has told you about me.’

  ‘Not much. Only that you’re neighbours.’

  ‘What do you do, Ava?’

  ‘I’m a landscape designer and Andy and I do some of the best work in Sydney. What about you, Paul?’

  What was it Andy had said about Paul? That he was a cop? A secret agent? Maybe in the military?

  ‘I’m a personal trainer.’ Then he personally trained his eyes on hers. When she studied his practised countenance, he went from handsome to sleazy in an instant. ‘During the day that is. At night, it’s my job to pleasure women.’

  Excuse me?

  Paul reached across the table and covered Ava’s hand with his. She froze. ‘We have a couple of hours, so let’s enjoy our wine and pasta and then we can go back to my place. I have a flat nearby.’

  Ava shook her head, as if she had water in her ears and hadn’t heard him correctly. ‘You’re a what?’

  ‘I’m a man who is all yours for two hours, Ava. You’d be surprised where I can take you in two hours.’

  Ava pulled her hand out from under his. ‘I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding here, Paul.’

  ‘I hope not. You’re a very attractive woman.’

  ‘Thank you, but I thought this was a date date.’

  ‘It can be whatever you want. Andy mentioned that it’s been a long time since you’ve been with a man. It doesn’t have to be that way, Ava. We will have sex and it will be …’ he leaned in even closer and his eyes dropped to her lips. ‘It will be … unbelievable. I will take you to places you’ve never imagined. All for a fixed price of five hundred dollars.’

  And at that moment, Ava saw every moment of her sad and boring love life flash before her eyes. That one high school boyfriend who’d held her down and fought with her before she kneed him in the balls and escaped. A series of bearded environmentalists while going through university. A long spell before someone nice called Simon, who broke up with her when he went to England and never came back. For so long, Callum. And now Paul th
e male escort.

  Paul, who was asking a mere five hundred dollars to have sex with her.

  Ava swallowed the rest of her glass of wine and sighed.

  So this is where she’d ended up.

  She wanted to have sex with someone, there was no doubt about that. And unbelievable sex sounded kinda good. But there was only one man she wanted to have unbelievable, knock-it-out-of-the-park sex with.

  ‘Thanks, Paul, but no thanks.’ She reached for her clutch bag and tucked it under her arm.

  ‘C’mon, Ava. You seem like a nice woman. This could be fun.’

  ‘No judgement, Paul. But this was a mistake.’

  Ava pushed back her chair, turned, and walked out.

  And fought off the urge to go right round to Andy’s house to strangle him.

  *

  Ava had been home ten minutes when the first text message arrived.

  She’d kicked off her killer heels and peeled off her dress, which was sitting in a pile on the floor, and was cleaning the make-up from her face. As she rubbed at her eyes to remove the particularly stubborn mascara (why had she bought waterproof?) she thought about what a waste of money it was to buy the dress and heels when, theoretically, she could have turned up in her work clothes and still had sex if she’d been willing to part with her hard-earned cash.

  Her phone beeped. She ignored it while she brushed her teeth. If it was her sister, she didn’t feel up to talking to her; if it was Andy, she might have got angry; and she knew it wasn’t her parents because it was already 9.30 p.m. on a Friday night and she was certain they would be in bed. Whoever it was could wait. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She wanted to wallow. She wanted to curse her heart and make a vow to some higher being or other that she would swear off men altogether.

  Ava stomped to her bedroom, and unclipped the fancy red bra she’d worn, returning it to the bottom drawer where she knew it would sit for another five years. She pulled out a tank top and slipped it on, and then chose a book from the bookshelf near the window. She had a pile of books she’d been meaning to read but hadn’t yet, so what better time to start? She grabbed the latest from her favourite author, slipped into bed, rearranged her pillows, turned on the bedside lamp and pulled the covers up to her waist.

  Only then did Ava check her phone.

  How’s my garden?

  She blinked. Put the phone down on her bed and wondered what the hell time it was in Singapore? She Googled it. Nine p.m. Callum was her client. He was curious about progress and she always gave her clients progress reports late-ish on a Friday night when they were six thousand kilometres away.

  Her mind went back to the kiss. How he’d looked at her, the sound of his voice, the pounding of her heart and the throb in her sex when she’d touched his body. His beautiful, strong body. That kiss had every indication of being the start of something, rather than the end of everything. She wished it hadn’t happened. She wished she hadn’t given in to it, wished she didn’t want more. She wished it so much it hurt.

  She picked up her phone and typed a reply. Almost finished.

  ‘And that’s what we should be, Callum Malone,’ she told herself. ‘Almost finished.’

  She tossed the phone on the end of her bed and closed her book. When her phone trilled to life, she almost jumped out of her skin.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‡

  Callum’s name was on her phone’s screen and all she could think about was that kiss.

  The kiss that had buckled her legs and melted her from the inside out; that had set parts of her throbbing that hadn’t throbbed in a good goddamn long time.

  The kiss they should never have let happen. But they’d let themselves go there, into that forbidden place, and now it wasn’t lust that she felt when she thought of him. It was guilt and shame and a thousand emotions, none of which were good. But whatever personal emotions were thrashing around inside her, he was, at the end of the day, her client and she couldn’t ignore that call. She just couldn’t.

  She let it ring six times before answering it. ‘Hi Callum.’ She attempted to sound businesslike and professional, cool and calm.

  There was a slight, echoey delay as the call connected. ‘Hi, Ava.’

  How could two words sound so sexy? How was it that they reached right inside her and set her quivering? How could two little old words hold such promise? Because surely, Callum wasn’t really calling to ask about his garden, was he? Please let him be calling about his garden.

  ‘How are you?’ Predictable. Perfunctory. Polite. Keep it up, she urged herself. Don’t let him hear it.

  ‘Good.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m good.’

  There was a long pause. She couldn’t hear a thing except for his breathing and then a deep chuckle.

  ‘So, here I am in Singapore,’ Callum started, ‘Sixty floors above the city in a fantastic hotel.’

  ‘Did you say sixty?’

  ‘Yeah. The views are spectacular. The whole city’s lit up.’

  ‘Holy crap,’ Ava shuddered. ‘I can’t look at the top of the Harbour Bridge without feeling queasy. And to think people willingly climb up there? At night? I feel sick just thinking about it.’

  Another pause. She wasn’t sure where the conversation was going. She was still too shaken from their last encounter to feel relaxed enough to tease him or joke with him. They’d turned a corner. Things were different now. She knew it and, judging by the conversational detours Callum was taking, he knew it, too. If felt to her as if they were on the edge of a cliff, still deciding whether to hold hands and jump.

  ‘I thought you might be out,’ he said after a moment.

  Ava sucked in a deep breath and found a lie. ‘I usually am on a Friday, but I’ve had a crazy busy day at the site and I’ve kind of crashed early. I’m just catching up on some trashy TV before I go to bed.’ She looked around her bedroom in the dim light from her bedside lamp. There was an old wardrobe. A chest of drawers. A wicker basket that held all her dirty work clothes. On the walls were framed prints that she liked and there was a worn and extremely fake Persian rug on the floor. But there was no television. She knew it sounded more than lame for a thirty-something woman in Sydney to already be in bed with a book on a Friday night.

  ‘Yeah, I’m about to do the same.’

  ‘I hope you raid the mini-bar first,’ she said. ‘I love mini-bars. All those tiny chocolate bars and mini champagnes.’

  Callum laughed and in her mind’s eye she could see him standing there in his dark suit, the phone pressed to his ear, looking out through floor-to-ceiling windows to the night sky, skyscrapers lit up all around.

  ‘Room service is so much better,’ he said. ‘The bottles of champagne are much bigger.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Ava said. ‘I’ve never stayed in a fancy hotel. What’s it like?’ She slid down her pillows into the worn sheets and pulled her soft quilt up to her neck.

  ‘Expensive. Huge. Empty.’

  She realised he hadn’t called her to talk about his garden. He wanted to talk to her, and the thrilling realisation was almost more than she could bear.

  ‘Oh,’ she whispered.

  ‘Shit, Ava. I’ve had a hell of a week.’ He sounded wrecked, his voice ragged. He was hurting and it hurt her, too.

  ‘What’s happened, Callum?’

  ‘What’s happened to me?’ He swore under his breath. ‘You happened to me, Ava.’

  ‘Callum …’ she sighed.

  ‘You know what I mean. I want you. Fuck, it’s more than that. I need you.’ His voice was hushed and deep and it slid through Ava like a hot knife through butter. She sank a little lower.

  Wasn’t this what she’d wanted forever? Wasn’t this her fantasy come true? So why was she so scared? Why was there an ache in her chest that seemed to get heavier and heavier until it crushed the air from her lungs?

  ‘No matter what happened … we can’t, Callum.’

  ‘Why can’t we? I’ve seen it in your eyes and I
felt it in that kiss the day I left Sydney. We’re not kids anymore, Ava. I know what I want. And I want you.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple.’

  ‘If I’m wrong, you need to tell me. Tell me you don’t want me.’

  Saying those words would be a lie and Ava decided that she’d been lying long enough.

  ‘What if I do? What difference does that make? I can’t want you, don’t you see? Your history is my history, too. And I couldn’t live with myself if I betrayed my sister.’

  ‘Betray her? What are you talking about? I’m divorced, Ava.’

  Ava felt shaky and dizzy. ‘I can’t … I can’t talk about this now. Like this.’

  ‘I didn’t want to do it like this, either. But I couldn’t wait to talk to you. I couldn’t wait another day to tell you.’

  ‘Don’t, Callum,’ she pleaded.

  Callum’s voice grew serious. ‘I’m back Monday. I need to see you. We need to talk about this.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to say. I’ll be finished on Monday.’ She took a deep breath. Didn’t want to say the words, but they came in a rush. ‘Then we’re done, Callum.’

  ‘You’ll never be done with me. Because this is real, Ava. I’ll see you Monday.’ There was silence down the line. ‘Goodnight, Ava.’

  ‘Goodnight, Callum.’

  *

  Callum tossed his phone onto the perfectly made bed in his hotel suite and it bounced on the taut sheets. He’d had a full-on five days of negotiations with a potential new business partner on a major construction project in the Asian city. Both sides were trying to drive a hard bargain and talks had been intense, involving a lot of to-ing and fro-ing and spreadsheets at twenty paces.

  But the whole time, his head had been somewhere else.

  His head had been in that kiss.

  Because he was in love with her. If he hadn’t known it when he’d left Sydney, he sure as hell knew it now. A week in the company of an interchangeable array of men in suits had been more than a man in deep lust could bear. When Callum closed his eyes, he saw her again, lying on the grass at The Meadows, her breathing heavy, her breasts moving as her chest rose and fell. Her hair was mussed and had strewn all around her head, like a dark chocolate pillow on the luxuriant green of the well-watered lawn, and her limbs were loose and splayed. He’d wanted her then.