Chapter 29: Fifth Avenue Fling: Chapter 29

One week later

For the first time since I’ve moved into the townhouse, Killian is working from home. He never works from home.

I’m suspicious. Is he keeping tabs on me? But he’s got cameras for that. He promises he doesn’t, but I don’t know…

Occasionally, he surprises me over the speaker. Sometimes hearing his low, husky American drawl pumping through the speakers is pretty sexy. A nice distraction from bed making.

Sometimes it’s not.

Last week, I farted loudly, and two minutes later, Killian spoke to me over the loudspeaker. I’ve been agonizing over whether he heard me or not since then. I’m pretty confident Americans don’t fart as much as the Irish. My ex thought letting one rip in front of me was a rite of passage.

But since I moved in with Killian, I haven’t heard him release any.

My phone buzzes for the millionth time today.

Killian: Water refill.

Demanding git. I’ve been running around all day for him, bringing up cups of coffee and tea and lunch and smoothies. If he were a boyfriend, I’d tell him to refill his own fucking water. But he’s not. He’s my arrogant live-in boss who I’m having a casual fling with.

And I’m a weak woman because it’s turning me on.

He looks so grumpy every time I visit his office to fulfill his latest demand that he might as well have “do not disturb” tattooed across his forehead. He’s always on the phone yelling at some poor schmuck. I love my new American vocabulary.

I smirk to myself. Perhaps I need to liven his workday up a little.

Yes, sir, I text back.

I hurry down to my studio and slip into the lingerie and choker ensemble Killian had caught me fawning over in the hotel that first day we met. I douse myself in perfume, brush my teeth, and touch up my makeup.

A quick mirror check says I look good. No stray hairs. No belly bloat.

Efficiency is key. I only have twenty minutes before I need to be out the door. He’s given me the most mundane task ever. I have to wait at City Hall to get some paperwork done, so I can’t even have lunch. What a tyrant.

I head back upstairs, my heels clicking on the marble floor. I really hope the security guys aren’t watching through the camera.

I pause outside his door, adjusting my bra, and then knock. It’s hard to predict how this’ll go. He could go nuclear on me and throw me out for interrupting his work.

“Come in,” he calls.

I step inside with the jug of water.

He’s behind his huge desk, a frown etched over his face as he glares at the monitor. Fortunately for me, I’m out of sight, so if he’s on a video call, no one can see the lingerie-clad nanny maid who has entered the room.

For a moment, he doesn’t even glance up. “JP, stop going around in circles.” His lips press together tightly. His gorgeous, thick dark locks flop over his forehead, and I resist the urge to swoon.

I’m a powerful temptress.

“I’ve found a way around the mayor’s—fuck.”

Fuck is right.

I have his full attention now.

Jaw hits floor. Smack. Fucking. Bang.

His mouth hangs open as he takes me in with his eyes, from head to toe.

It’s possible I didn’t think this through. There has always been something intimidating about him, but now he looks downright dangerous.

I strut forward with slight apprehension as I try to figure out whether he’s angry, aroused, or a bit of both.

“Killian?” a male voice, possibly JP’s, says from the speaker system. “Is someone there, or am I boring you?”

“Yes,” Killian says in a low voice, eyes on me. His hands tighten around the edge of the desk.

“Yes, I’m boring you?” JP sounds really pissed now. “What the fuck are you looking at? We have twenty-four hours to sort this out, or the casino is dead in the water.”

Fighting a giggle, I innocently set the water jug down on his desk and resist the urge to lean over and wave at JP. It would make for an interesting story.

Killian glares at me so ferociously I’m surprised I haven’t been stripped of my underwear.

“Alfred Marek sent us a letter backed by the fucking mayor himself,” JP rants, oblivious to my presence. “Going by the expression on his face when he stormed out of your house, I don’t think it’s an idle threat. This isn’t just a silly little local protest now.”

Huh. Seems Alfred is a more common name than I thought. Like the guy I had to ghost from Central Park.

Killian mumbles something about casino builds. I don’t know what; I’m too focused on clenching my ass cheeks together and looking seductive.

“That made no sense,” JP barks. “Are you even listening?”

“No,” Killian says, still staring at me instead of the screen. Boobs. That’s what he’s thinking.

He taps something on the keyboard. “I’ll call you later.”

Since I’ve fulfilled my duty of delivering him his citrus-infused water, I turn to leave.

“Wait,” he growls, beckoning me like a king with his servant. “Come here.”

I turn to face him.

“Sorry I interrupted your call,” I say, smiling innocently at him. Lies.

“It can wait.” He grabs my hand and pulls me until I’m straddling his lap. His fingertips skim along the edge of my lingerie, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “This is a nice surprise, my little car thief.”

His dick thinks so too. It pushes against my crotch like a hard, immovable rock.

I sling my arms around his neck and press my hips up against his. My plan is to cocktease him for a few minutes, then leave. Payback for making me wait ninety minutes outside city hall.

“Is the mayor giving you shit because of what happened at the dinner party?” I don’t like that thought. How did I end up triggering a feud over a casino?

His grip on my lower back tightens. “Just some hiccups with the build. Nothing to stress about. One of the local businesses is protesting the construction.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “They don’t want us to build there.”

I think of the times that Orla and I have visited Brooklyn for dinner or walked alongside the Brooklyn Bridge Park and stared at the tall financial towers in the city. “I get it.”

“What do you mean, you get it?”

“Imagine if some big shot wanted to bulldoze The Auld Dog and Tony’s bagel store. The whole area would go nuts.”

“That pub looks like it should have been demolished years ago. The restroom was a biohazard.”

I roll my eyes. “Tell me about it; I used to clean those toilets. I saw the worst side of humanity. Anyway.” I jab him in the chest with my finger. “That’s not the point at all.”

He quirks his brow. “What is the point?”

“You know some of the older men there have nowhere else to go? It’s the only place they get to talk to people. Like Mr. McNearney—he’s seventy-five, his wife passed away years ago, and he has no family left. He goes there every single day, even on Christmas Day. The pub stays open just for him and a few others, and they do a wee roast for them. Community is so important, you know?”

Killian stares at me intently for a long time, and I wonder if I’ve smeared lipstick on my cheek or something embarrassing like that.

“Would you want to live beside a casino?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer me.

My fingers close firmly around his strong jawline. “Are you alright?”

His response is a slow nod.

His eyes drop downward, and a tortured groan erupts from his throat. “We don’t have time for this.”

“I know,” I huff. “I’m going to City Hall now.”

“You’re not. You’re going on a helicopter ride over Manhattan.”

“Say what?”

“I found your bucket list.”

“Oh my God! How?”

“It was quite easy, considering you left a piece of paper with a huge title called ‘Clodagh’s New York bucket list’ on the table in the kitchen.”

“So I don’t need to wait in line?”

He chuckles. “Nope. That was a ruse.”

I let out a loud screech and jiggle my legs. “You know that this could be considered pretty romantic, right?”

“Calm down,” he grumbles. “It’s just another commute for me.”

Whatever. I’m flying over the Empire State Building.

As I smile in glee about my helicopter ride (Granny Deirdre is going to lose her shit), Killian unclasps my bra and latches onto my nipple.

Boobs.

What is it with guys and boobs?

I think they want what they don’t have.

I think back to my first conversation with Marcus, where I was worried about having to let some rich old billionaire suckle on my breasts.

Ha. It’s funny how things turn out.

***

“No shit, Orla, we were so close to the Empire State spike I thought it was gonna skewer us!”

Bouncing. It’s the only way I can describe how I’m traveling down Fifth Avenue to the townhouse. I’m buzzing after my bird’s-eye experience of New York.

Now I’m by myself, talking to Orla. Killian had to go back to the office.

“I’m so jealous,” she moans down the line.

“And we passed that huge apartment complex. We always wanted to know what the inside was like. Well, now I know! I took some pics for you. I’ll send them over. Killian said he owns some apartments there.”

“Next time, take me with you, for fuck’s sake.”

“I will. I didn’t even know we were doing it today.” Now I know why he was working from home—to surprise me.

“Did he say anything more about the green card?”

“No. I don’t want to press him. He said it so casually, like it was no big deal.” I blow out a breath as I reach Killian’s house. “I just don’t know. It means he has all the power. What’s worse? Killian deciding my fate or a random au pair agency? It feels weird now that I’m sleeping with him.” I pause for a moment. “Maybe I should take the nanny job.”

“Bollocks. That’s your Catholic guilt talking. When a billionaire guy wants to give you a green card, you take the green card.”

Someone clears their throat behind me.

Still holding the phone, I turn to see familiar light-blue eyes. It takes me a moment to register… The last time I saw him was that day in Central Park.

The guy I was supposed to go on a date with. Alfred.

He stands watching me with a smirk, his hands in his pockets. My female spidey-senses activate.

What are the chances of him walking past here?

“Orla, I gotta go. Someone I know is here.”

My pulse quickens as he smiles at me, waiting for me to get off the phone. In hindsight, I should have kept Orla on the phone.

Relax, Clodagh, you’re being ridiculous. This is Fifth Avenue.

He smiles. “Fancy seeing you here.”

I swallow and give a tight smile in response. “Hi. How are you?”

“Great.”

An uncomfortable silence hangs between us.

“Er, what are you doing in the area?” I finally ask.

He gestures up the steps. “This is where you live, right? I figured I’d come and see how you were doing.”

What the fuck? Who does that?

My spidey-sense radar goes off the charts. I climb another step of the townhouse, my heart pounding. “That’s not cool. How did you find out where I live?”

I think over our text conversations. I told him I worked for Killian.

“What’s the matter?” he says with an irritated edge to his tone. “You seemed interested. Why the change of heart?” He takes a step up the steps to the townhouse. Too close, jackass. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“No.” Fear creeps up my spine. This guy is nuts. It’s time to end this conversation. “I’m not interested. I’m seeing someone. And it’s downright creepy to come to my address.”

Do I go in the house or make a mad dash down the street?

He knows I live here, and I’m not sure I could outrun him.

Plus, I can always press the panic button if I’m in the house.

My heart pounds as I quickly move toward the retina scanner at the door.

In the reflection, I make out his face directly behind me.

Jesus Christ, this is actually happening. I’m going to end up in someone’s attic.

The door buzzes open, and I lunge at it.