The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,56

you.”

“Wish her happy birthday for me.”

“Will do.”

I hang up and toss the phone aside, smiling already.

See? What did I tell you?

“Hello,” she says, bringing enough brightness with her to blast away both the night’s gloom outside and the emotional gloom in my head. “And what are you doing home so early, sir? You’re trying to put together an important deal. You can’t skip out early.”

“I’ve got an important birthday to celebrate. Get over here, birthday girl.”

“Not so fast,” she says, lingering in the archway. “Was that Ryker? How did his meeting go?”

I manage to keep my game face on and my smile in place. Tonight is her night.

“We’re not discussing work right now. Mine or yours. Am I getting a kiss or not? And before you answer, fair warning: no kiss, no gift. And I got you a great gift.”

“I see that,” she says, all aglow as she eyeballs the flowers. She takes off her coat and tosses it on the nearest chair, revealing jeans and a sweater. “Thank you for the gorgeous bouquet.”

“That’s not your present, silly girl,” I say, pleased with myself. That’s another thing she does for me: makes me feel like something special on a regular basis. “Well, it’s not your real present. What are you doing? I’m getting the feeling you’re hiding something over there.”

“I am hiding something,” she says, clapping with excitement before disappearing back into the foyer. “Stay where you are. I’ve got a present for you.”

“For me? It’s not my birthday.”

“Yes, but it’s much more fun to give presents on your birthday than it is to receive them. Here we are.”

And she makes a grand re-entrance holding a large, flat package that’s been wrapped in brown paper. Something that could only be one of her paintings.

“For me?” I say, stunned as she hurries over and leans it against the coffee table.

“Yes, you. Do you see anyone else standing here? Hurry up. Open it!”

Her thoughtfulness catches me by surprise, as does the sudden well of emotion in my throat. I discover that I don’t want to open the gift right now. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say I’m afraid of how much this gesture means to me. She’s already shaping up to be the greatest human being I’ve ever met. I can’t take one more reason for her to mean the world to me. There’s just no room inside me for another big or turbulent emotion.

But she’s waiting. Watching me.

I swallow as much of my fear as I can manage and give her a quick kiss.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t thank me until you’ve seen it,” she says, laughing.

Her enthusiasm is contagious. I tear through the paper with no idea what to expect, because she can paint anything if she has her acrylic paints and canvas. Landscapes. Still lifes. Portraits. Abstracts. But this is…this is…

“I call it Joie,” she tells me, sounding nervous now. Joy in French. “I hope you like it.”

“Like it?” I say, which is all I can manage.

She has, once again, taken my breath and blown my mind. I should be used to it by now. But getting used to Carly’s presence in my life would be like getting used to a panda moving into your guest bedroom. You do your best and maybe grab some bamboo on your way home, but there’s no real preparing for it.

The best way for me to describe it would be if someone took an abstract painting of a heart and pixelated it. Smudged it. If the painting contained every warm and wonderful color anybody ever saw. All the golds, yellows and fiery reds. All the lovely blues and greens. If you ever saw a color and thought, Wow, that’s gorgeous, that color is in this painting.

And that painting leaps out at me, grabs me and makes me happy.

The same way this woman has grabbed me. And made me ecstatically happy.

I think about how seamlessly we’ve woven our lives together, splitting our time between here and her place. I try to figure out if maybe there’s some hidden part of me that wants to take the limits off this relationship and trust her that last little bit. Which is why I can’t speak. I’m too busy pressing my lips together and pretending I have control over my emotions. Too busy wondering if this is her way of telling me that she’s fallen in love with me, because she probably believes in love even if I don’t.

Too busy doubting whether my luck could ever get that