Page 126 of Fifth Avenue Fling

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” I ask her, barely managing to keep my voice even.

She grimaces. “Is this about your underwear? Do they feel tighter now?”

“No, not my damn underwear. Though, yes, you have managed to shrink them.You stole a fucking car?”

Any remaining color drains from her face as she sets down Teagan’s pillow on the bed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” JP is right. My emotions are clouding my business judgment.

She cast us all under her spell. Teagan seems to idolize her now, and if she catches wind of this, it sets a terrible example.

And me?

I’m a fool. I was sucked in by her pretty face and infectious laughter, and I don’t even know the person sharing our house with my daughter.

“Explain,” I demand.

“Okay, okay,” she whimpers, flapping her hands in the air. “Just give me a chance.”

“I’m waiting,” I say through clenched teeth, trying to remain calm.

She swallows hard and nods. “I was living in Belfast at the time. I told you my ex screwed me over. I was so pissed off when I left his place that I saw he’d left his keys in his shiny new car, and, well, I figured I’d take it.” She lets out a little bitter laugh. “Only it wasn’t his car; it was his neighbor’s.”

This is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard. “For fuck’s sake.”

I watch as her face crumples and the first of a fat tear rolls down her cheek. “It was supposed to be leverage to get some of my money back. That asshole had all my savings, and I was broke as shit. Unfortunately, the police won’t accept one crime for another.”

I glower at her. “How did you get past immigration? Did you lie on the form?”

She chokes back her tears. “You don’t need to declare smaller offenses.”

“You might be able to get away with that on a vacation visa, but if you have anything criminal on your record, your work visa is as good as gone. We can’t sponsor you anymore.”

The full weight of my words hits her, and the tears flood down her face uncontrollably.

I stand rigidly; torn between wanting to comfort her and the knowledge that she lied to my company and me, and she shouldn’t be in my house.

“I’m really sorry, Killian. I made a mistake,” she sobs, her voice muffled as she wipes her nose on her sleeve. “I didn’t know how else to get my money back.”

I stare at her intently, knowing this is my perfect opportunity to end this fling between us so no one gets their heart broken.

But then those deep green eyes of hers lock on mine, and I hear myself say, “I’ll fix it.” Even though I know fixing this will take a miracle.

This isn’t a guy I can bribe; this is immigration.

And that’s when I realize that I’m much deeper into this than I thought, because the look of relief on her face melts my heart into goo.

Clodagh

I’m falling.

And not because the man has agreed to do something dodgy with my criminal record for me, but because every day I peel back another layer of Killian Quinn, and underneath the grump is actually a protective sweet guy.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Killian

A few days later

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