Italian Escape with the CEO

Once the dessert arrived Ava tasted it experimentally. ‘This is good. Not as good as Dolci’s, of course.’ His lips tightened imperceptibly and she wished the words back. Dolci was hardly the best topic to bring up. ‘Sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t apologise. Obviously I can hardly expect you not to mention Dolci over the next three months.’

The chocolate melted to ash in her mouth and she dropped the spoon with a clank. ‘Three months? Three weeks would be hard enough. Three months...is a quarter of a year.’

‘We need the time or people will know it’s fake.’

‘But we can’t sustain a lie of this magnitude for three months.’

‘Surely it won’t be so bad for you? You were a model. I assume you had to act, project, exaggerate feelings.’

‘Yes. For a photo shoot, and I was projecting my love for perfume, or chocolate, not a real live person. For a very short space of time. For the benefit of the camera, not a live audience. And if I made a mistake I got another go.’

He raised a hand. ‘I get it.’

‘No. I really don’t think you do. Besides, forget me.’ After all, she’d spent her whole life playing the various personae of Ava Casseveti, perfect daughter, perfect girlfriend...celebrity...heiress, aristocrat. ‘What about you? How are you going to pull it off?’

‘That’s my problem.’

‘Nope. It is our problem. If we are exposed we will both look like idiots. Both be publicly humiliated. We have to make this look real.’

There was a silence and then he nodded. ‘Fair point.’ He picked up his coffee cup. ‘How about we meet tomorrow for a brainstorming session? Give us both some time to think about a strategy to make this work. Perhaps we could meet at Dolci headquarters? So I can get accustomed to the idea I am dating a Casseveti.’

Ava felt a small tug of surprise. Liam had listened to her, taken her comments on board. ‘Works

for me. I’ll see you there.’

CHAPTER FOUR

LIAM STOOD OUTSIDE the offices of Dolci’s headquarters the following evening and looked up at the impressive glass-fronted façade. Memory rocked him. His father had brought him here once and for a few tension-filled moments twelve-year-old Liam had believed that Terry Rourke would storm inside and cause an affray. Remembered anxiety echoed a hollow ring in his gut.

Now, nineteen years later, Terry was dead and Liam stood here on the brink of a fake relationship with Ava Casseveti. About to gain entrance into the enemy’s portals. Would his father approve of this? Of course he would—he would appreciate that a Casseveti had been forced into a contract with a Rourke. And his mother. How would she feel?

Liam had no idea. His relationship with his mother was too distant for him to hazard a guess. He loved his mum, of course he did, but that love was layered with strands of guilt and knowledge of how his selfish behaviour had impacted on her happiness.

As a child he’d hero-worshipped his father, blamed his mother for the breakdown of his parents’ marriage, hadn’t understood how hard it was for her to watch Terry Rourke slowly but surely give his life over to the bottle. Lose his job, his dignity, his body and soul vanishing into a maudlin, alcoholic haze. Liam hadn’t got Bea’s struggle to try and keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. All Liam had wanted was for his father to get better and his parents to be happy again.

Then, when Liam was twelve, Bea had met someone else, a plumber at the hospital where she’d worked as a nurse—John Malone—and they’d fallen in love. She’d been full of joy, had planned to leave her husband, had expected Liam to understand, to go with her.

Liam had been horrified at having his illusory bubble burst, had refused point-blank to leave his dad, and in the end Bea had stayed in the marriage. For Liam’s sake.

Guilt at his actions tugged but before he could contemplate further Ava walked through the revolving glass door and headed towards him. And dammit again, she stopped him in his tracks, derailed his senses for a smidgeon of time, dressed today in elegant tailored grey trousers topped by a black top and cinched at the waist with a wide belt. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ he managed and for that fleeting instant they both simply stood and then she stepped back. ‘Come on up.’

Through a marbled lobby, walls decorated with glittering photographs of Casseveti success. James shaking hands with a renowned global businessman, Ava in a photo shoot to promote Dolci products... Liam absorbed it all, ensured he kept his stance relaxed during the trip in a state-of-the-art elevator, a walk through a now empty open-plan work area, dotted with desks and equipment and then they entered a spacious meeting room. A large oval glass-topped table graced the centre, a tray with coffee, tea and biscuits had been set out, a whiteboard was ready at the front. The perfect setting for a business brainstorming session.

Liam placed his briefcase on the table. ‘I think the best way is to sit down and swap some basic facts, the sort of information that it would be natural for us to have.’

Ava sat down and opened a leather-bound folder. ‘Agreed. I’ve prepared a CV but with some extra personal information. Like how I like my tea.’

‘I did a fact sheet. Though I have to admit I didn’t include my tea preference. Good call.’ That was the exact detail they would be expected to know. ‘I take mine strong with just a hint of milk.’ Ava already had a pen in hand and was jotting the information down, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of the column of her neck as she bent over the table.

For an overlong instant his gaze was caught and a pang shot through him, one he damped down immediately. ‘Let’s read each other’s information and then try and learn it. We can test each other later.’

She nodded agreement and pushed her CV across the table. He noted that her nails were a different colour from the previous day and for a moment he wondered how hard it must be to coordinate her outfits so well. Wondered if attention to nails would feature on her fact list.

He watched her as she studied his piece of paper, the small fierce crease of concentration, the way she pressed her lips together. Dammit, now he’d snagged on those lips his gaze lingered for a moment and he quickly turned his attention to the paper on the table. Started to commit the facts to memory: her birthday, names of her schools, private education, top grades, various dance awards, excellent university, and then her two-year stint in the modelling world.