Page 117 of The Daddy’s Girl

If I’ve learned anything in my life of breaking rules and getting away with far more than I should have, I know the trick is to act as if I belong here and nothing is out of the ordinary.

I shove my hands in my pockets and greet the woman. “Bonjour,” I say with a flirty smile. “Is Ronan around? He’s expecting me.”

Hopefully no one notices that the front door never opened or closed.

“Of course,” the woman says before scurrying to the kitchen.

A moment later, Ronan turns the corner and beams at me.

“You weren’t kidding. You were in the area,” he jokes before putting out a hand for me to shake.

Behind him, Daisy and Amelia enter the room to greet me. Amelia is biting her bottom lip wickedly. She brings her fingers up to her mouth to hide her smile.

“Hey, Matis,” Daisy says, beaming sweetly. “Hungry? We’re about to sit down for lunch.”

“Er…” I start, but Ronan claps a hand on my shoulder to answer for me.

“We have a little business to discuss first, sweetheart. We’ll join you as soon as we’re done.”

When he looks into my eyes, I shrink all the way down to the floor. Everything hits me like a train on the tracks.

I am the world’s worst friend. This man, my best friend, and his wife trusted me with their children. Their fucking children.

And now I’m lying to them.

The fact that they’re falling for it makes it feel even worse.

“Okay,” Daisy replies with a sweet, trusting smile. “You two don’t work too hard.”

With that, I let Ronan steer me toward his office. Once we’re alone inside, I do my best to remain casual. Do what I normally do.

So I slowly meander to the leather chair, dropping into it and crossing one leg over the other.

“What are you scheming?” I ask.

Ronan pours us each a drink before moving behind his desk, handing the expensive whiskey over to me.

“I don’t scheme.” He wears a coy grin as he takes a sip of his.

“Yes, you do, and it usually involves me.”

“I bought a club,” he states plainly.

Of course, I already know this. I was standing next to his naked daughter in the shower when his wife broke the news to her.

So I act surprised. Raising my brows, I tilt my head to the side and wait for him to continue.

“In London.”

“You want me to move to London,” I state.

“What I want isn’t the question. That’s not my place,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “But you are the first person I’m going to offer it to.”

“I thought we retired,” I joke, taking another sip.

“I retired.”

“So did I,” I respond flatly.