His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,48

steering me to the right. “Kitchen.”

Crazed with desire as I am, it takes me a moment to blink and focus on what I’m seeing. Then the amazing river views on two sides come into focus, giving the impression that his apartment is sailing down the Hudson River. I gasp. The skyline twinkles, further adding to the scene’s magic. Inside the kitchen, he’s got marble everything. Insane appliances. One of those refrigerators that’s built into the cabinets.

“Oh my God,” I say, turning in a circle to take it all in. “This is amazing.”

“You like?”

“I usually prefer a little more linoleum in my kitchens, but this isn’t bad.”

“You cook?” he asks, grinning.

“I’m an excellent cook,” I say, running my hand over the cool white countertop.

“So am I.” Taking my hand again, he leads me to the living room area with its sunken sectionals and gorgeous art on the walls. “Best dish?”

“A roast chicken dinner that’ll make you see God. You?”

“Chicken vindaloo. I keep hearing rumors that Michelin wants to give me a star for it.”

“I can hardly wait,” I say, laughing.

“We can take turns. As long as you agree to clean up on my nights. Living room.”

“Deal,” I say, trying to match his nonchalance. But it’s hard not to squeal at the implication that we’ll be spending that much time together. I don’t know if he noticed that we just skipped over several intermediate relationship steps, but I sure did. “As long as you don’t make a huge mess.”

“I don’t believe in messes. You like the leather?”

“I love the leather. You’ve done a great job decorating for someone who hasn’t been here that long.”

“I enjoy it. Trying to make the house a home.”

“And are you enjoying your newfound wealth?”

“Absolutely. But the downside to suddenly having a lot of money is realizing that there are empty spaces that money can’t fill.”

The sudden poignancy catches me by surprise. “You have empty spaces?”

“Things are looking up in that area,” he says quietly, giving me a pointed look.

“Good.” I have a tough time stopping myself from simpering, but I manage somehow and return to my perusal of his place. “It’s quite a house.”

“Don’t get too impressed. The other rooms aren’t done yet. Matter of fact, I’m checking out furniture for my home office this weekend.”

“You can’t neglect the home office,” I say, engrossed in his selection of coffee table books about architecture and design.

“You free? We could grab lunch after.”

I look up from the books, again trying to be a cool customer and not lapse into idiotic grinning. Hard to do when I know those keen eyes don’t miss anything. But if he wants me here, I plan to be here.

“My weekend is suddenly wide open,” I say.

To my surprise, a shadow crosses his expression. “Tell me about, ah, Bruce,” he says quietly. “Was that tough?”

I hesitate, debating how much to tell him. But if we’re starting something tonight, I want to start it on the right foot. “Yes. I wanted to tell him this weekend, but he called while I was still at the bar. He could hear it in my voice.”

“Does he know about me?”

“Yes.”

A grim nod. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. “Are you sad?” he finally asks.

This time there’s no hesitation. “Not even a little bit. I mean, I’m sad I hurt him, but it was an easy decision. Because it was the right decision.” I pause, letting my own words sink in. “Maybe that’s the sad thing. That it was such an easy decision.”

“No regrets?”

“No regrets,” I say, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from floating away with happiness.

“Good.” He reaches for my hand again and reels me in. “Did I mention that I have several bedrooms here? With beds?”

All the nerve endings in my body prickle to life again, right on cue. “That sounds promising. Do tell.”

“My bedroom, for example, has a giant bed—”

A bell chimes, startling us.

“That’s my sister with your clothes,” he says, turning me loose and heading for the hallway. “Hang tight.”

“Your who with my what?” I call after him, trying to get up to speed.

“I called my sister. Asked her to bring you some clothes.”

13

Ally

“What?” I cry. While I certainly appreciate his kind gesture, I’m mortified to discover that his sister, whom I’ve barely met, now knows all about our sexual exploits. And that he seems supremely unconcerned by the whole debacle. “What did you tell her?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, disappearing around the corner. “She’s very discreet. And she knows about