‘She wanted me to persuade you to overthrow the will.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I refused.’
Ava frowned. ‘But what made her think you’d do it?’
‘She thinks you love me, thinks I should use that love to further my ambition. That we could be happy together.’
Ava’s eyes opened wide in shock and she stepped backwards and for a timeless instant silence reigned.
* * *
Ava’s brain froze, became a dark cavernous void where any form of thought was impossible. She knew she needed to act, to refute the absurdity of his words, but somehow she couldn’t figure out how. The right phrases simply wouldn’t formulate on her tongue. Because her mother was right. Deep in her bones, in her soul, she could see the truth. She loved him.
For one tiny moment she considered telling him, allowed her imagination to picture it. For a moment rose-coloured spectacles came into play. He’d declare undying love, go down on one knee, roses and violins would feature...
Then she saw his face and the pink-tinged illusion dispersed to ash-coloured shadows. His expression was full of a concern that couldn’t disguise the underlying mask of panic-stricken horror. That would be his worst nightmare: another woman in love with him who he didn’t love back. This time a woman he didn’t want to love back—at least Jess had had a fighting chance. But Liam would never love Ava, would never let himself take that risk, and so she would end up like her mother.
That would not happen. Ava would not walk the path her mother had chosen, where love became obsession and need, where you sacrificed pride and allowed love to warp into a twisted parody. So now she needed to pull out every single acting skill, every modelling trick she had ever learnt or used, and she would play her part down to the last detail. Would not let Liam know of her love.
Her incredulous laugh was pitched to perfection. ‘Well, that poleaxed me. Love? That is ridiculous. Mum is clearly desperate for a new alliance. So she is seeing what she wants to see.’ Liam’s blue eyes studied her expression, scoured her face and Ava forced herself to remain loose limbed, to keep any hint of her true feelings from show. Shut down the writhe of panic and self-recrimination and pain that twisted inside her. And smiled her very best ‘faking it’ smile. After all, people believed what they wanted to believe and the smile had never let her down yet. ‘I’m sorry it put you in an awkward position.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m glad it was a false alarm.’
‘Of course it was. Our relationship is a charade. True, the parameters changed along the way, but love was never on the table.’
‘No, it wasn’t.’ His voice was heavy and she hoped, how she hoped, he was buying her act.
‘But now the dreaded L word has reared its head I think we’ll both feel more comfortable if we wind the charade down.’ There was no way she’d be able to be with him now, no way she could hold him, kiss him, fall asleep in his arms. Not now when she knew the dreadful truth.
‘Agreed.’ He nodded and she wondered what he was thinking, wanted him to say something, do something, tell her how he felt. But his expression was locked down and she forced herself not to ask. Knew she couldn’t maintain this role much longer. She rose to her feet. ‘Do you mind if we sort out technical details of how to deal with the press and roll out our break-up tomorrow? I think we need to phase out over the next few weeks, which means we will still have to see each other a bit. But perhaps we can plan some business trips, which will make it easier.’
‘That sounds sensible. I’ll sleep on the sofa and we’ll regroup tomorrow.’
Ava nodded, knew that regrouping would not be possible for a very long time. But eventually her stupid foolish love would die. And until it did she’d pretend it had never existed—she could do that. Most supreme of ironies. She’d fake it till she made it. She was Ava Casseveti, after all.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIAM PUT THE phone down, looked round his gleaming office and waited for the expected exultation to kick in. He’d won the Beaumont contract. Mission accomplished.
But the news felt...flat. Of course he was pleased—knew on a professional, practical level that his company was safe, was on its way up, and that did give him a deep sense of satisfaction. But the sense of victory he would have felt just weeks before was lacking. Now all he wanted was...to call Ava, to share the news. But he wouldn’t because there would be no point.
Ava would say all the right things but... It wouldn’t be real. He started to pace the office, in the hope that the monotonous strides would dull the ache of missing Ava. Because even though in the past two weeks they had seen each other, the meetings had been a true charade, a mockery of their previous closeness and camaraderie.
In truth it hadn’t even felt like Ava—oh, the beautiful, perfectly dressed, perfectly poised woman had looked like Ava, sounded like Ava, but she had not been his Ava. His pace increased. Ava was not his, had never been his, could never be his.
He should be glad that she didn’t love him, glad that she had been spared that hurt. Glad that she was able to continue to play her part now that the ‘fun’ was over. Yet perversely he wasn’t... Because there was nothing to be glad about. A part of him wanted to go and find her, tell her he loved her. But how could he take that risk? He who knew his inability to navigate relationships. He couldn’t figure out how to be part of a family in any sense. Not as a son, a stepbrother, a husband.
Yet now he recalled Ava’s words.
‘Do something about it. Stop being scared. I know I’m right. They wouldn’t feel you were intruding, they’d welcome you in. It’s your family unit.’
What if she were right? Before he could change his mind he picked up the phone.
‘Mum?’
‘Hello, Liam.’