His Forbidden Love (Manhattan Billionaires #2) - Ava Ryan Page 0,69

have to stoop to skulking around in hallways and bribing doormen.”

“Seems like you would’ve connected the dots and figured out that I was avoiding you because I don’t want to talk to you. Because there’s nothing left to say. We were both crystal clear on our positions last night.”

“Untrue. You were clear. I was unprepared.”

Like that makes it any better. If someone gives you a winning lotto ticket, you don’t tell them to come back tomorrow because you were unprepared to receive visitors today.

“Unprepared for what?” I say, sweeping my arms wide as I face the door. “If you considered me being in love with you a good thing, it seems like you would’ve quickly become prepared.”

There’s a long pause. So long that I get the awful sensation that he’s walked away. And I can’t begin to convey the sickening feeling of disappointment at the idea that he has.

“Are you there?” I snap.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding gruff now. “To answer your question, I was unprepared to get everything I want in life so quickly and so easily.”

Wait, what?

My heart screeches to a complete stop.

I open my mouth but quickly discover that I’m now the one who can’t make their words work.

“Ally?” He sounds closer now.

I step closer to the door. “Yeah,” I manage faintly, my mouth drying out. “I’m here.”

“I’d like a do-over on your birthday. Please.”

“A do-over?”

“Yeah. Can we do that?”

“I don’t know,” I say, now eager to hear what he has to say and equally eager not to climb back on an emotional roller coaster. I just don’t have the energy for it. Not tonight.

“I won’t blame you if you say no, but…I guarantee you’ll like this birthday better.”

“I don’t—”

“Ally. Trust me. Let’s take it from the top.”

Like the ending was ever in any question. That’s my biggest problem with Michael.

He gets me every time.

“Fine,” I say, reaching for the lock. But he knocks again, surprising me.

I hesitate before deciding to play along.

“Ah…who is it?” I call.

“It’s me,” he says, his voice sounding much cheerier now.

I think hard, trying to remember everything I said last night. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were having drinks with your friends.”

“You skipped that whole part about having a mask on your face,” he reminds me. “But it’s fine. I’ll improvise. You’re the one who should be scared. Why did I have to find out from HR that it’s your birthday?”

“Sorry,” I say, laughing as I swing the door open. “I wasn’t sure what I should do— Oh, they’re gorgeous!”

He’s got another massive bouquet slung over his arm, long-stemmed pink tulips with greenery this time. But I’m much more interested in him. His eyes are warm, his cheeks dimpled. There’s an air of expectancy about him that makes him seem, I don’t know, almost buoyant. As though he can barely contain himself. Seeing him like this creates the sweetest ache of yearning inside me that it breaks my heart in the best possible way. If there is such a thing.

Even so, he hurt me last night. My tender feelings are still a little sore.

“Thank you,” I say, stepping back to let him inside, my cheeks in flames. “I really appreciate your thoughtfulness. Would you like a slice of leftover birthday cake?”

His dimples deepen with a good-humored smile. “I don’t think that’s what you said last night,” he says quietly as he comes in and shuts the door before setting the flowers on the nearest chair. “I think you’re skipping something.”

I make a show of scrunching up my face and tapping my chin with my forefinger. “There was a whole thing about Friday the thirteenth,” I say.

“That’s not the part I was thinking about.”

We stare at each other while I try to regulate the input and output from my lungs. But it’s not easy to do with my heart pounding out a thousand beats per minute.

“I’m so scared right now,” I shakily admit.

“Don’t be.”

His gaze is steady. So warm. There’s no way I can hold anything back.

“I love you,” I say, my voice little more than a whisper.

“I love you too.”

He says it on a burst of breathless emotion that twists up his expression as he reaches out to take my face in his hands. He presses fevered kisses to my hair and my forehead. My eyes, both cheeks and finally, sweetly, my lips. “I love you so fucking much, Ally. It’s the biggest thing in my life.”

I laugh and hug him close with profound gratitude, dizzy with relief and determined to