For a moment she contemplated shimmying straight out of it but a glance at the clock told her that was not a good idea. She needed to look poised, perfect, every hair in place, make-up pristine... ‘Later, I promise I won’t be.’
‘I’ll hold you to that.’ The deep rumble of his voice sent a shiver down her spine and she marvelled at her body’s response to him. ‘You look stunning and I promise you’ve got this. It will be the event of the year. You’ve done a superb job.’
‘We’ve done a superb job.’
‘Nope. Own this. It’s yours. You’ve brought flair and style and passion to it. The vegan canapés, the way you haven’t used plastics, the fact sheets and talking points dotted around the function room—it all shows you believe in the cause you are raising money for.’
Ava smiled at him, touched by the sincerity in his voice. ‘Thank you.’
‘They’ll enjoy the champagne, the food, the music and the company and having their awareness raised in a subtle manner that encourages them to part with their money at the auction.’ He moved away and dropped the towel, pulled on boxers and a pair of tuxedo pants and for a moment she simply stared, caught anew by his unselfconscious nakedness. This could never get old.
Literally, she reminded herself. Because in a few weeks they would part ways, the fun would be over. In which case it made sense to make the most of it now, because discovering her body’s capacity for Liam was a learning curve and she was enjoying every inch of the climb. He adjusted his cufflinks and a sudden pang hit her. It was so...intimate, so domestic despite the glamour, and it made her heart do a funny little hop, skip and a jump.
Whoa. Just sex and fun, remember?
And now she needed to focus on the evening ahead.
‘Speaking of the auction.’
She sensed the hesitation in Liam’s voice. ‘Yes?’
‘There’s a last-minute addition to the donations. From Luca.’
‘Luca?’
‘I contacted him to ask. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Especially when I didn’t hear back. But then earlier today an item arrived. A painting by an Italian artist. And an email message.’
He picked up his phone and showed her.
Dear Liam
I have dispatched a donation for the auction. I wish you and Ava luck in raising money for this excellent cause.
Best wishes
Luca Petrovelli
Ava stared at it for a long moment and the smallest tendril of hope unfurled. It wasn’t gushing, it was bland, but it wasn’t unfriendly and it wasn’t vindictive. Happiness brought an extra spring to her step as she moved towards Liam and wrapped her arms around him.
‘Thank you, Liam. That was good of you.’ Kind. Thoughtful. Caring. Stop...leave it there. Stepping back, she turned to the mirror, warned herself to rein in emotion. One last glance at her reflection, a small adjustment to the folds of the dress, one final swipe of lipstick. ‘Ready to go.’
‘Ready to go.’ He smiled at her and took her hand in his. ‘So we meet and greet each guest at the door, then we mingle, then we eat, then we auction.’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘Then we thank everyone, say goodbye and come up here, where there will be champagne on ice waiting for us.’
A bubble of anticipation brought a smile to her face and she squeezed his hand as they left the room and headed downstairs to greet their guests. Ava cast a last glance of approval at the ballroom of the plush London hotel. Eco-friendly rose petals sprinkled the tables, the chairs were bedecked with bows and silver streamers looped and swirled from the ornate vaulted ceilings. Waiting staff were poised to circulate with glasses of champagne and soft drinks and plates of canapés.
‘Here we go,’ Liam murmured, and they stepped forward to greet their first guests. Twenty minutes later a compact grey-haired man barrelled in, a man with an aura of power. He had a woman on his arm, a woman who had decided to go grey naturally and was comfortable with her decision. As well she might be, Ava thought. Because she was beautiful, with classic features that endured with age.
‘Hello, Ray. I’m so glad you could make it.’ Liam turned to Ava. ‘Ava, this is Ray Beaumont.’
Ray Beaumont. The man who led Beaumont Industries, the man whose business Liam wanted to win. The contract he was in danger of losing to AJ Mason.
The man held his hand out. ‘Liam. Ava. Thanks for the invite. This is my wife of thirty years, Sophia.’
The woman gave a soft laugh. ‘Honestly, Ray, you sound like you’ve been counting.’