Lost in Paradise (Paradise Club #2)(57)

She nods, remembering our earlier conversation.

“Also, I would love for you to be there as my date.”

“You did say you needed a buffer between your mother and all those eligible women she likes to set you up with,” Ivy jokes.

“This is true. Really, though, all jokes aside, I want to spend the weekend with a beautiful woman who I can’t seem to get out of my mind,” I confess as I watch a blush redden her cheeks.

Ivy looks thankful as our meals arrive breaking her embarrassment.

I look down at my avocado benedict with a side of bacon. Yes. It’s something filling. Ivy digs in, and I follow, devouring nearly half of my breakfast before coming up for air.

“I’d love it if you did come next weekend, but I understand if meeting the parents is a little too soon,” I add because in no way do I want to pressure her into coming.

“What would you say to them if they ask about us?” she questions, placing her knife and fork down on her plate.

“That you’re the woman I’m seeing.” Which is the truth.

“And they will be fine with that? They won’t assume anything more?” she asks.

“Oh, my mother will assume so much more. I mean she already loves you and doesn’t even know we know each other. She will have us married off before the end of the weekend, so be prepared for her to fangirl all over you and then demand you become part of the family. She will probably adopt you and then when I take you to bed and do all the dirty things I want to, it might be a little awkward after the adoption,” I joke, which has her smiling widely.

“Technically, we aren’t blood, so …” she adds with a giggle.

“See, then it’s all good. Adds a bit of extra spice to the bedroom.” I chuckle, and she shakes her head as she wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“Fine, I’ll go. Sounds like the weekend is going to be fun.”

“In more ways than one,” I reply, wiggling my brows at her.

After Ivy insisted on paying for brunch, we continued our day along Kings Road until we’ve finally made it to Ivy Starr Design offices. The building is elegant and sophisticated with its all-glass front with white and black metal accents. Ivy unlocks the black front door and closes it again before walking over to the wall and punching in a security code.

“This is where the magic happens, then?”

“This is the front reception area,” Ivy adds as she explains the sitting area filled with oversized couches and a reception desk made of white stone, and in the front is an LED screen which shows off images of her finished work. We walk through the black and glass metal door into the office space, which is filled with pod workspaces that are grouped together. There are a couple of conference rooms on one side of the area and a kitchen area on the other with a state-of-the-art coffee machine, refrigerator, wine cabinet, and kitchen counter made out of a black and gold marble, which looks incredibly luxurious for a staff kitchen.

Makes me think that maybe we should redesign our offices. I feel our staff are lacking in amenities in our office building.

I follow her to the back of the building where her office is located. There’s a black and glass square wall that runs along the entire area with a double door.

“This is my office. My sanctuary,” she declares, pushing the door open to her space. One entire wall is littered with ideas, inspirations, and swatches of material. Then there are floor-to-ceiling cupboards filled with more material and baskets of tiles and marble samples. Ivy’s white desk is oversized and has magazines piled up on one side. There’s a large computer in the middle and more paperwork on the other side. Then on the wall beside her desk are framed articles about her designs from magazines and newspapers as well as awards littering the cupboard. There’s a strange sculptured light hanging in the middle of the room, and behind her desk sits a large colorful painting by the famous French artist, Louis Marchant. This makes me smile as his brother, Daniel, is one of my best friends. He’s going to get a kick out of this when I tell him.

“My office looks pretty boring after seeing yours.” I chuckle, enjoying the whiteness which gives it an air of sophistication. Usually, all white would appear cold and clinical, but this feels refined and elegant. It has a homely feel about it, and I imagine her customers would get that sense of comfy domestication the minute they step into the room. There’s a sitting area off to the left with two black velvet armchairs and a solid silver coffee table with a vase of white roses sitting in the center. That’s what I notice all around her office is fresh flowers.

“Your office probably has to be conservative and professional. People expect their designer to have something like this,” Ivy adds.

“I took over my father’s office and didn’t update it. It’s very cigar lounge,” I say with a chuckle.

“Oh no, you can’t have that as your office. You’re way too young to be surrounded by old boys’ club chic,” she states seriously.

“Maybe I need to give you an office tour.” I reach out and pull her to me. “You can tell me what works and what doesn’t,” I mumble into her neck, breathing in her berry scent.

“My hourly rate is high. Do you think you can afford me?”

“I’ll pay whatever you want if it means I can get you into my office and onto my desk so I can eat you out,” I growl the words against her skin.