Italian Escape with the CEO

But Ava had forgotten all about the folly of one-sided love, disregarded the knowledge that love could be bought, faked with an eye to the main chance. Had believed she and Nick were different. Turned out she’d been wrong. When her dad had suffered his first heart attack and Ava had given up modelling to enter Dolci, had no longer been a celebrity party girl, Nick had shown his true colours and a swirl of dust as he’d legged it out of the door. Said he was sorry but she’d changed, was no longer the woman he’d fallen in love with. Ciao.

That had been that and, as far as Ava was concerned, that was how it would remain. ‘Definitely single,’ she added for emphasis. ‘With no interest in a relationship. Of any type.’

‘Think of it as a charade. A ruse to refute the idea that I haven’t got over my wife.’

Have you? The question nearly fell from her lips and she bit it back. That was none of her business. Plus the man hadn’t dated in five years—he didn’t sound over it. But that was beside the point—the point was that this plan was granola nuts.

‘It won’t work. For a start, don’t you think AJ will find the timing a wee bit suspect?’

‘He might, but he can hardly suggest that I have persuaded or bribed Ava Casseveti to play along with a fake relationship. Why would you?’

‘Well, there’s an excellent question. Why would I?’

‘Because you want to make amends for your father’s actions. This is how you can do that. There’s a certain poetic justice in the idea—a Casseveti helping a Rourke with a business plan.’

Touché. Ava closed her eyes as a swell of panic threatened. Every instinct told her this was not a good idea. Liam Rourke was too...much. Too good-looking, too attractive, and that was not what she needed right now. Her hormones were way too volatile around Liam. She could almost feel her carefully ordered world fraying at the edges. ‘I see that, but this idea is... Well, it’s pants. I mean, how would it even work?’

He shrugged. ‘We fake a relationship, we go out for dinner, give some interviews, attend business functions together, get seen, generate some positive publicity for me. Right or wrong, people will be impressed by you, your position, your credentials.’

A stab of hurt pinged her ribs. Obviously all Liam Rourke wanted was the Ava Casseveti persona, the aristocrat, the celebrity model, the businesswoman. Not Ava herself. She gave her head a small shake at her own idiocy. Why would he want anything else? ‘Actually, right now they may not be. The current public verdict on me is that I am a ditzy airhead who won’t be able to keep her company from going under. A woman her own father didn’t trust at the helm.’ She met his gaze directly. ‘So I may be a liability rather than an asset.’

For a moment he considered her words, his fingers drumming on the snow-white linen of the tablecloth. ‘Nope. I don’t think so. You are still my best option. This may even help you.’

‘How?’

‘It will distract people from a consideration of your business problems.’

‘Hah! They’ll think I’m fiddling whilst my desserts flambé.’

This pulled a smile from him. ‘Not necessarily. If we publicise our relationship properly we can orchestrate some interviews that will give you a real chance to put your case forward.’

‘It’s too high risk.’ Ava contemplated him, realised that Liam Rourke represented danger, high risk, high octane. Everything Ava Casseveti didn’t do. ‘It wouldn’t work. We are strangers. Worse than strangers.’ Her gaze met his. ‘There is too much history between us. We are natural enemies. We couldn’t pull this off.’

His lips twisted. ‘Sounds to me like an excuse. This is all about our history. You told me two weeks ago you wanted to make amends on your father’s behalf. This is how you can do it. Your choice.’

What to do? What to do?

Liam’s words came back to her.

‘Nothing can atone for that betrayal. His perfidy broke my father. He felt cheated and bitter, a bitterness that pervaded and corroded his life.’

But it was more than that—it would have corroded Liam’s as well.

Conflict warred within her—the desire to do what was ‘right’ versus the instinct for self-preservation. But this wasn’t about self, wasn’t about Ava. The crux of the matter was the wrong done by her father and his desire to try to make it right. If she walked away now she would fail, would let her father down. And herself. In reality there was no choice. ‘Fine. I’ll do it. I’m in.’

Even as the words fell from her disbelief caused her to clasp her hands together under the table, to resist the urge to pinch herself in the hope she’d wake up.

‘Excellent.’ His low voice held satisfaction and appreciation and a funny little thrill shot through her as he raised his glass; his cobalt-blue eyes held hers and the shiver of anticipation and panic intensified. ‘To us,’ he said, just as their waiter shimmied towards the table, dessert menu in hand.

Instantly she raised her own glass and smiled, her best ‘Ava Casseveti thinks you’re great’ smile. ‘To us,’ she echoed. Once the waiter had cleared their table and glided out of earshot she nodded. ‘I understand now why you picked here for dinner. You’re hoping that word will get to AJ that you were here with me.’

‘Not only AJ. People in general. Some of my clients are ex-military or have military connections. It will all help.’

Ava looked down at the glossy card as her brain grappled to come to terms with what she had agreed to. ‘Right now what will help is a melt-in-the-middle chocolate pudding and an espresso.’

Liam smiled, the effect electric. Ava felt her pulse rate ratchet, as warmth flooded her body, and she reached for her water glass. ‘You’re right.’

Whilst that was gratifying she only seemed able to focus on his smile. Her gaze snagged on the firm contour of his lips. Enough. ‘I know. There isn’t much in life that chocolate pudding can’t help.’