Sally approaches and her feet nearly leave the floor when Peterson grabs the papers in her hand. “Have you offered Mr. Ward a drink?” he asks her, and I see the panic on her face. Poor thing. She’s obviously of a nervous disposition. My guilt for yelling at her is back with a vengeance.

“I’m fine, thank you,” I rush to say. I don’t want a drink. I want to clear up a small matter with my girl. “I’ve just come to settle my account.”

“You shouldn’t have rushed in just for this.” He laughs, Ava scoffs, and I smile.

“I’ve been away.” Technically, that’s true. I’ve been away with the fairies. “My staff overlooked it.”

“I knew there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation,” Peterson says, not seeming at all bothered by my outstanding payment. But it irks me no end to think he’s given Ava a hard time about it and, as a result, I’m now sitting here having to fix a problem that shouldn’t even be a fucking problem. “Was it business or pleasure?”

I can’t help myself. I cast a dark look on Ava. “Oh, definitely pleasure.”

She blushes terribly, and I’m left restraining my amusement.

“I’d like to make some appointments with Miss O’Shea while I’m here,” I declare. “We need to get a quick turnaround on this.”

“Absolutely. Are you looking for a design, or a design consultation and a project manage?”

Ava shakes her head. She knows what’s coming. Who am I to disappoint her? “The whole package,” I confirm, and Patrick Peterson very nearly raises the dead with the sound of his excited clap.

“Super! I’ll leave you with Ava.” Yes, please do. “She’ll take good care of you.” He extends his hand, and I take it blindly, watching as Ava squirms all over her desk.

“I know she will,” I say quietly, tearing my eyes away and looking at him, raising from my chair. “If you give me your company bank details, I’ll arrange an immediate bank transfer. I’ll also make an advanced payment on the next stage.” So you don’t have to get on Ava’s back. “It will save any future delays.” And my sanity.

“I’ll get Sally to note them down for you.” He heads back to his office, pleased as punch. Now, then. Back to the matter at hand.

I drop to the chair and give Ava my full attention. She’s in a bit of a trance, but I’m quickly faced with pursed lips and a face to rival any filthy look I’ve seen before. “When are you free?” she asks.

Easy. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day. “When are you?”

“I’m not talking to you,” she snaps.

“What about screaming for me?”

She recoils. “Neither.”