Willow checked his tie in his car window. His hair was freshly cut, his teeth clean, his suit pressed. He’d picked the plain blue Armani one. He wasn’t taking a chance on anything too fun. All week he’d stayed away from booze and coffee, and he’d gotten a barbershop shave. There was nothing more he could do. Whether Eden’s parents liked him was now up to fate—that and how much they watched the footy. His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his manager, Royce.

Meeting set for Monday at 11am.

Willow grinned. Miracle of miracles, there was a good chance the Gold Coast Rams were picking him up for next year. There were even hints of a two-year contract which was way better than he’d been expecting. With a bit of luck, he might be able to get re-signed after that. He could last another four years and become the oldest player in the AFL. It wasn’t the Brownlow medal, but it was something…

“Hi.”

He glanced up and almost choked on his own spit. Eden stood before him, looking like an angel in her long gold skirt and tiny green top. “Jesus.”

“You like it?” She pulled at her skirt, revealing a deep split that showed off her legs.

“Love it. You’re stunning.”

“Thanks.” She moved closer, almost up to his chin in her platform shoes. “You look perfect.”

She didn’t say it like it was a good thing. In fact, her entire demeanour seemed off. She was pale and she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Totally fine.” She gestured at his Mercedes GLA. “Is this your car?”

“I… Yeah.”

She raised a brow. “One of them?”

“I would have felt cunty saying that, but yeah.”

She strode around it, studying the glossy veneer. “Is this the fanciest one you have?”

“Actually, I have a Lamborghini, but I thought it was too flashy for something like this.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

She squinted at him, and he tried to smile. He knew what she was thinking—are you crazy fucking rich? The answer was yes. So far, he and Eden had avoided discussing money. He paid for her presents, her drinks, and food, but she didn’t know about his properties, cars, or family history. She had no idea his mother was from one of Scotland’s richest families and when she passed, she’d left him a small fortune. With his exes he’d kept the information quiet, not wanting unrealistic expectations, but Eden had given zero signs she cared about money. She wore ten-dollar sneakers and lived in a hole in the wall. If she knew he had money, she might freak out and think he was even more of a square than she already did.

He touched his collar. “Are you ready to go?”