Really, though, it’s the man striding along beside me who commands most of the attention. I can’t miss the glances from my fellow shoppers, which range from curious to downright feral. I can’t blame them. Even if they have no idea who he is, even if he’s only wearing half a custom-made suit, Brendan Sullivan cuts a dashing figure. I’m as bad as them, shamelessly ogling his very nice arse as I scurry along in my heels, trying to keep up with him. He’s bored now, and he wants out.

Yan, his driver, directs the porters as they load the fruits of our shopping spree into the boot of Brendan’s shiny black car while an excited Mark, paws up on the back of the seat, yaps at us through the open boot hatch.

I have an instant stab of guilt. ‘Has he been in there the whole time?’

‘Nah,’ Brendan says easily. ‘Gabe lives just behind here. Yan took him for a runaround in his garden.’

Oh, thank God for that.

Brendan opens the back door for us. ‘Let me get in first and secure this mutt. Hiya, mate. Who’s my best boy? Did you have a nice walkies? Did you dig up Uncle Gabe’s garden like a good boy?’

I eye the back of the car warily—it seems I am now a woman who must inspect every surface before plonking her Dior on it—but the cream leather seats look immaculate. Either Mark is a very clean doggy, or Yan tidied him up after his romp.

‘Hi, sweetie,’ I coo at Mark as I slide in behind Brendan. The dog is now sitting nicely in the footwell, his enormous head resting on the empty middle seat between us. I pet his smooth head and allow him to sniff and then lick my hand. If I’m honest, my first day is off to an intense start. I’m already exhausted between dealing with those two snobby women, the three million outfit changes, and the confusing charge I’ve been feeling since Brendan showed up.

It’s a lot, and Mark is a grounding force.

I glance over at Brendan. He was so sweet in there. I love how he looked after me and dealt with their crap. Honestly, it was pretty attractive. This whole situation I find myself in may be as fake as anything, but I can’t deny he made me feel special in that changing suite.

He’s frowning down at his phone. ‘Gotta make some calls.’

‘Of course,’ I say brightly.

He gives me a nod and sticks in an earbud. ‘Elaine. Yep. Heading back now. You’ll need to give Marlowe a tour at some point this morning. Did the plumber come back with a quote?’