I push open the door of my apartment and smile as Georgia bursts in and tears through like a hurricane. Home feels like home again when she’s back. “I think Daddy fed you too much sugar at the cinema,” I call, hearing the door to her bedroom crash open and then the unmistakable screech of springs as she dives on her bed.
Tossing my keys on the table, I go straight to the fridge and pull out a beer, rooting through my pocket for my mobile when it sounds. It’s the office. “Andrea,” I greet, walking through to the lounge to find Georgia has already dragged in the duvets from both our beds.
“Hey,” Andrea says, sounding a little exasperated. “We have a problem.”
“What’s up?” I land in a chair and take a sip of my beer.
“I’ve had to send Henry home. He’s been vomiting all over the office.”
I grimace. “Nice.”
“He’s supposed to be valuing a house in Belgravia. I can’t get it covered.”
My shoulders drop. “Andrea, I have Georgia.” At the mention of her name, my daughter marches into the room with a stack of pillows in her arms, dropping them to the middle of the floor before heading back to the bedrooms.
“I know, and I wouldn’t ask, but the seller has already had two other agents out and is keen to get it on the market.”
I sigh. “Send me the details.” I’m a businessman, and I don’t let business slip through my fingers, especially business in Belgravia.
“Thanks, Drew.”
I hang up and go find Georgia, my insides already tightening with guilt. “Hey, pidge.”
“Daddy, will you be my beast?” she asks, twirling on the spot.
“Well, you’re undeniably Belle.” I sit on the edge of her bed and let her climb onto my lap. “So I guess I can be your beast.” I tug on her pigtail and she giggles.
“You’re a handsome beast.”
I laugh, standing with her attached to my front. “Why thank you, Belle.” I pucker my lips and she indulges my demand for a kiss as I walk through to the kitchen. “Now, I have a proposition for you.”
She pulls back, her little face wrinkling warily. “We’re just pretending, Dad. I can’t marry you.”
She’s just the damn cutest thing in the world. “I have to pop to work for an hour.” I feel rotten when her tiny shoulders slump, disappointment clouding her gorgeous little face. “Just for an hour, I promise.”
“Can I come?”
“No, pidge. You’re going somewhere better.” I put my beer back in the fridge.
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.” I drop her to her feet. “Go get your coat and shoes on.”
She races off, the promise of a surprise replacing the disappointment with excitement. I might be jumping the gun here. I haven’t even checked. I pull up my contacts list and go straight to the boss.
Ava answers in two rings. “Hey, you.”
“I need a huge favor.”
*
We roll up at Jesse’s place half an hour later, and Georgia is out of my car as soon as I come to a stop, squealing in excitement the moment Maddie appears on the doorstep with a collection of Barbie dolls. “Thanks, Ava. I owe you.”
“No problem. Take as long as you need.”
“Where’s Jesse?”
She points across the drive, and I spy him through the trees with his boy Jacob, kicking a ball around. I cup my mouth with both hands and shout, “Foul!”
Jesse looks up and waves, taking his eye off the ball for just one second. A second is all it takes. “Goal!” Jacob pulls his Manchester United shirt up over his head and starts circling his dad, arms in the air as he chants. I laugh, though my mate is less than amused.
“See ya!” I jump in my car and race across town to Belgravia.
Chapter 4
I take in the impressive row of white stucco-fronted Georgian terraces on the fancy street, my gaze drifting across the road to the private gardens that also boast tennis courts. It’s one of the best addresses around these parts and would be an amazing addition to Davies portfolio. Property around here is like gold dust, millionaires waiting in the wings for word of something coming to market. My charm is well and truly turned on.
I climb the steps to a shiny black door with gold fittings, all highly polished as expected, as I check the name of the vendor on the message Andrea sent. Rivers. Mrs.? Mr.? A quick rap of the elaborate doorknocker is enough before I straighten my suit and turn on the smile I need when in business mode.
The door opens.
And my smile falls.
“Raya?” I step back, as does she, her smile falling, too.
“Drew, what are you doing here?” She glances left and right. “I’m expecting someone.”
“Yeah.” I pull my card out of my pocket and hold it up. “Me.”
Realization dawns as she stares down at my card. “Davies.” Another step back. “You’re Davies of Davies & Partners?”
“And now you know what I do for a living.”
She’s casual in an oversized silk T-shirt and baggy trousers, her hair piled high with layers falling across her face. And no makeup. How can someone look so utterly stunning with no makeup on?
She owns this place? Fucking hell, I’ve not even stepped foot in the grand Georgian palace yet, but I already know we’re talking tens of millions. I’ve dealt with property like this endless times, but never before has it felt so intimidating.
“You know, if this is too awkward I can go.” I’m begging, properly begging, for her to say no. This woman has been on my mind, crawling all over my skin, from the moment I set eyes on her. And now my curiosity just went through the roof. The opportunity to potentially peel back a few layers and try to answer some of my unrelenting questions is too tempting to resist. Not to mention the urge to feel her against my skin again.
“Umm…” She bites her lip, clearly torn, while I wait with bated breath for her to decide. “It’s fine.” Shaking her head, she opens up the way to me. “Come in.”
My heart beats harder as I step into…her house? “Thanks.”
“Do you want a drink?” Her question is full of uncertainty as she leads the way down the hall to some stairs.
“Some water would be good.” I need some moisture in my mouth fast.
“The kitchen is in the basement.” She leads me down some polished wooden stairs, and we step into the kitchen.
I force my eyes away from her so I can scan the space. “Nice,” I say, taking in the perfectly traditional room, all cherry wood and dark marble, with double doors leading into a small courtyard. The spotlights shining down from the ceiling reflect off the stone counters, sending shards of amber lights streaking up the cream walls.
Raya fetches a glass of water and hands it to me. Our fingers brush. Our eyes meet. Electric shocks tingle up my arm. She swallows. “I should show you around.”
This is painfully awkward. “Sure.”
“So, this is the kitchen.” She motions around and wanders through to an adjoining room. “Casual dining room and chill out space.” Three huge leather couches are arranged in a U-shape around a TV hanging on the wall. “I’m down here most of the time.”
I’m down here most of the time. Not we? “Five floors?” I ask, not bothering to take notes. I’m pretty sure my hands wouldn’t be steady anyway, so I start mentally storing details in what vacant space I have in my mind—space Raya isn’t hogging.