I crawl into them, loving the feel of his arms wrapping around me.

“But I like you naked an awful lot more.”

I grin up at him. “You do realize, you’re not getting your shirt back, right?”

He pulls the covers over us and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I have no problem with that, babe, so long as I’m the one who gets to take it off your body.”

“Oh, you definitely will be.” I press a soft kiss to his mouth, loving as he hums a delicious sound of assent beneath my lips. “And if I haven’t told you this already, I like you, Adam Gunner—a whole lot.”

His eyes smile into mine, and it’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.

“And I like you a whole lot, too, Evie Taylor.” His lips press to mine again. “I think you’re fucking amazing.”

Smiling and happy in a way I’ve never felt before, I tuck my head under Adam’s chin, burrowing closer to his body, not ever imagining myself being anywhere else but here with him.

“Adam, your mother’s on her way up. Serena did ask her to wait, so she could call up to make sure you weren’t busy, but Ava ignored her and bypassed reception. Do you want me to head her off?” the voice of my assistant, Mark, fills my office.

For fuck’s sake.

I let out a sigh. Then, I press the button on the intercom, answering him, “No, it’s fine. Let her in when she arrives.”

“Okay, will do. Just to let you know, I’ll be away from my desk for a few minutes after that. I need to go see Simon in HR.”

“Sure, no probs.”

I let out another sigh, a tired one this time, as I lean back in my chair. I haven’t been sleeping well all week, and I could really do without a visit from the devil.

I wonder what Ava wants this time. I only see her when she needs something from me.

And my lack of sleep has nothing to do with the fact that I haven’t heard from Evie all week. I went to see her on Monday, and it’s now Friday. I told her to call me the next day, so we could talk, and she hasn’t.

And it’s pissing me off.

When leaving the hotel, I’ve seen her at the coffee shop, but there is no fucking way I’m going back in there to ask why she hasn’t called me.

Maybe she doesn’t think us still being married is a big deal. I mean, she didn’t care ten years ago, so why would she care now?

Well, whatever. I did my part. I told her the truth, unlike what she has done with me.

The ball is firmly in her court now.

I hear the familiar click of Ava’s high heels on the wood floor outside my office. It makes my skin prickle, and annoyance grows in my chest. Funny how just the sound of Ava walking can piss me off.

I hear her speak—or should I say, I hear her talking down to Mark.

The door opens, and I repress another sigh.

Here we go.

“Adam.” There isn’t any niceness in her tone, not that I’m surprised. She’s spoken to me with the same level of intolerance ever since I can remember.

“Ava.”

She narrows her eyes at me. She doesn’t like it when I call her by her first name. Fuck knows why. It’s not like she enjoys or cares to be my mother—well, apart from when I can give her something or do something for her, which is clearly why she’s here.

“What do you want this time?”

She frowns at me—well, frowns as best as she can with all the Botox and skin-tightening she’s had done over the years.

She takes the seat at the other side of my desk. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”

I tip my head to the side. “Sorry. I’ll rephrase. What the fuck do you want this time, Ava?”

Tut-tutting, she shakes her head at me, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You really are such a disappointment. Other children treat their mothers with respect.”

“Other children don’t find their mothers having a threesome with their best friend’s parents.”

I never did tell Max that. I didn’t know how to. I mean, it’s not something that comes up easily in conversation.

Oh, by the way, I came home from school the other day, and my mother was fucking your mom and dad.

Honestly, I was afraid he’d blame me, and I would lose him.

I was thirteen, and Max was all I had in the world.

Sighing, she rolls her eyes. “Ancient history.” She flicks a hand at me.

I can’t suppress the laugh of disdain that escapes me.

History. Denial. Ignorance.

Ava’s best defenses.

I release a sigh. “I’m busy, Ava. What is it you want from me this time?”

Examining her nails, she says, “Well…it’s been a while since I worked.”

“I thought you were taking a break.”

“I was, and now, I want to work.”

“Well, I haven’t got anything for you. You could always try another studio.”

God, wouldn’t that be a fucking dream? Let someone else deal with her.

Ignoring my suggestion, she says, “I heard that Avalon is going ahead.”

Avalon is a script that came to me a few years ago. Originally, I was on the fence about it. It wasn’t the right time. But the market has shifted, and I think it’s the right time to put it into production. It’s a take on the legend of King Arthur, starting with his fight with Mordred at the Battle of Camlann where Arthur was wounded and thought to have died. It progresses to show his recovery at Avalon, revealing that he lived and returned to lead his people against their enemies.

“It is.”

“I want the part of Morgan le Fay.”

I laugh loudly. Then, I stop laughing, and say in all seriousness, “No.”

Her eyes glower at me. “I’m perfect for it, and you know I am.”

“You’re about thirty years too old for that part.”

Anger ignites over her features. “I might be a little older than Morgan would have been, but I don’t look my age.”

I lean forward, arms on my desk. “The public knows how old you are, no matter how young you might look. You playing Morgan won’t work. End of story.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Your father would have given me the part.”

“But Eric’s not here, and I am. You forced me to take over this shitty company, so now, you have to put up with how I run it.”

“I need to work, Adam,” she says this in her nice voice, the one she uses when she’s trying to get her own way.

But I’m not playing today.

“Popularity fading, Ava? Have you lost followers on Twitter?”

“You are a spiteful child, Adam. You always have been.”

There’s the Ava I know.

“Yeah, well, I learned it from the best.”

Looking down, she takes in several deep breaths before looking back up at me. “Fine. You won’t give me the part of Morgan. Give me another part.”

“No.”

“I’m still a part of this studio!” she yells, her hard plastic face turning bright red.

I sit there, unrattled. “Technically, you’re not. You’re just the woman who was married to my father and the woman who gave birth to me, and you’re here for no other reasons than those. You’re lucky I don’t call security and have them toss your ass out on the street.”

Her mouth twists into a bitter sneer. “You know, when I first got pregnant with you, I wondered if I was making a mistake, being married to your father and having his child. One day, not long after finding out I was pregnant, I found myself outside an abortion clinic.” She flexes her hand out in front of her face, examining her nails again. Then, she lowers her hand, and cold eyes meet mine. “I didn’t go inside. I really should have.”

When I was younger, shit like that hurt me. Now, it just rolls right off me.

It’s nothing she hasn’t said before to me.

And the truth is, there is no way Ava would have stood within a hundred yards of an abortion clinic. I was her meal ticket. But that’s not why she can no longer hurt me.