Page 23 of Fifth Avenue Fling

The foyer lights are on, but there’s no sign of Killian or his daughter on the ground floor, and I’m relieved. Before I see him, I want to read this manual and understand what I’m dealing with.

I follow Sam past the double staircase, down the hall to another stairway to the lower ground floor.

“The dungeon,” I half joke as I descend behind Sam.

He flips on a light and… holy shit.

Quinn hasn’t skimped on the lower ground staff quarters. I follow Sam into a beautiful red-bricked lounge-kitchen area. This should be on ads for New York loft-style living.

He drops my bag on the couch.

“Wow,” I say loudly, spinning around. Renting this apartment would costthousandsof dollars a month. “I get to live here… alone? As in... it’s all mine?”

I turn to Sam, who leans against the fridge with a slight smirk.

“It’s all yours, Clodagh.”

“Fuck me,” I breathe. Orla will lose her shit when she sees this place.

Swallowing hard, I take in every detail of the room. I always thought basement flats would feel dark and dingy. This one has soft furnishings and a fluffy white carpet that makes me want to curl up on the floor and never leave. The area isperfectfor hosting my online yoga classes for my gran’s friends back home.

And a nice place to hide from Quinn.

“Is my new boss always so serious?” I ask Sam as I wander around the lounge.

“Yes. He expects things to be done a certain way.”

“His way.”

“You’re a fast learner.” I glance over to see him smirking. “You’re very different from Mrs. Dalton. She’s a lot more,”—he pauses—“mumsy.”

“Uh, Sam? I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult, given my new job title.”

“Just an observation.”

“He didn’t choose me,” I say quietly, plopping down on the couch to try it out. “Marcus, the guy who works for him, did.”

“Huh.” Sam frowns, keeping his gaze on the floor.

I wait for an explanation and get nothing. “You’re not filling me with confidence,” I huff. “And I haven’t even started the job yet.”

He shakes his head and grins. “Sorry. I’m sure you’ll find a way to charm him.”

Charm Killian Quinn? I’ve more chance of charming Hannibal Lecter. Guys like him aren’t interested in gals like me who don’t have their shit together yet.

I don’t say that.

“Are you from Dublin?” I ask, changing the subject. I’ve got a thing for the Dublin accent.

“Good guess.” He smiles and crosses the room to come closer to me.

I take the opportunity to subtly inspect Sam. He’s a looker; a stereotypical good-looking Irish man. Skin peppered with cute freckles and tousled brown hair to complement his bright blue eyes. Thirty, at a guess. He must do well with the American girls. Much more charming than his boss.

“Your Northern accent is too soft to be Belfast. I’d say you’re from the country. Fermanagh?” he says.

I’m impressed. “Close enough.” I grin. “Donegal. Any farther north and you’re in the Atlantic.”

He chuckles. “I’ve never gone that far north.”

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