He drummed his fingers on his steering wheel, and an idea niggled the corner of his brain, grew and expanded into a plan as he completed the drive back to Rourke HQ. A plan he recognised as a gamble that verged on the cusp of insane. But one thing he’d learnt in the army was that sometimes the risky way was the only way to go, however high the stakes.
Once in his office he lifted the keyboard on his desk and pulled out Ava Casseveti’s card. Studied it for a long moment. Daughter of aristocracy, ex-model, businesswoman, celebrity... Beautiful, charming, intelligent, well connected... And she owed him. Could he ask a favour of an enemy? In these circumstances, yes, he could.
Decision made, he punched in her number.
One ring, two, and then the call was picked up. ‘Hello.’
‘Ava. It’s Liam Rourke.’
A couple of beats
of silence and then, ‘Liam. Good to hear from you.’ Her tone clearly belied the truth of the sentiment.
‘You said to call if I thought of a favour you could do me. Well, I have.’
There was a silence, then, ‘Go ahead.’
‘I’d rather pitch this in person. How about dinner tonight? I can pick you up from work if you like?’
‘Um...’ Liam realised he was holding his breath, told himself if Ava refused then he’d come up with an alternative strategy. ‘OK. But I’ll meet you there. Just tell me the location.’
‘I’ll text details and how about we meet at eight?’ He’d already picked the perfect place, the right backdrop to help explain his plan, a venue that also had the merit of getting him seen in the right circles.
‘I’ll be there.’
* * *
A few hours later Liam approached the restaurant, as a taxi pulled up to the kerb. He waited and watched as Ava alighted from the black cab. His breath hitched in his throat—she looked...stunning. Her blonde hair was up in an elegant sweep that highlighted her slanted cheekbones; she wore a simple fitted black dress made that little bit different by the subtle striped detail of the V neck.
She paid the driver and headed towards him, her poise still reminiscent of the catwalk, graceful and lithe. As she reached him he nodded. ‘Thank you for coming.’
‘No problem. I told you to call if you needed a favour.’
‘Then let’s go in and I’ll explain.’
He stepped back to allow her to go first, forced his gaze away from the slender column of her neck, the tantalising sweep of bare skin, focused instead on the air above her head. That at least was safe. Once inside he signed them in, and led the way into the restaurant situated on the ground floor of the exclusive military club.
Ava glanced around the room, her amber eyes scanning the huge portraits of historic military figures on the walls, the plush leather theme of the room reminiscent of men’s clubs from days gone by. ‘The website said it’s imposing and they were right. But it also feels as though it is a part of history.’
Liam nodded. ‘The army, battles, war have been part of life for centuries. This gives people a place to be part of that community if they want to be.’
‘Do you come here a lot, then?’
‘No. I use it to meet clients sometimes. Particularly if they have an army background, or find this sort of thing impressive.’
‘So why did you ask me here?’
‘Well, partly because the food is incredible. And partly for a reason that will become clear later.’ He wanted to be seen with Ava, wanted the news to trickle back to AJ and his clients.
‘I did have a look at the menu online,’ she said. ‘For all the different restaurants. They all look great—I didn’t think a military club would have a tea room. Though it looks amazing with the book-lined walls. The cream teas did look good too.’
‘It sounds like you studied the website pretty thoroughly.’
‘Absolutely. I like to be prepared.’
‘Rather than surprised?’
‘I’m not keen on surprises. Plus if I hadn’t prepared how would I have known what to wear? Imagine if I hadn’t checked and I’d turned up in a gold lamé cocktail dress.’