Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
‘Good evening, John.’ I greet, grabbing my folder and bag. Will he speak today?
No, he nods and turns, walking back into The Manor, leaving me to follow him into the bar. It’s busier than when I was last here. It’s probably the time of day.
‘Mario?’ he rumbles.
A little man pops up from behind the bar. ‘Yes?’
‘Get Miss O’Shea a drink, please.’ John turns his concealed eyes back to me. ‘I’ll be back. Jesse wants a quick word.’
‘With me?’ I blurt, blushing slightly at my abruptness.
‘No, with me,’
‘Is he staying in his office?’ I ask nervously. I’m asking too many questions about something so trivial, but he assured me he would leave me and John to it. Even the thought of the man reduces me to a nervous wreck. I never thought I would think this, but I do actually feel more comfortable with the big guy. For a start, I trust myself with him. John’s lips twitch, clearly trying to fight a smile. I inwardly groan. He knows.
‘S’all good, girl.’ He turns, giving Mario a funny look, which the little barman acknowledges with a flick of his cloth.
What’s that all about?
John nods sternly before striding out, leaving me with Mario at the bar.
I gaze around, noticing a woman laughing with a middle aged man at a table nearby. It’s the woman I saw in the toilets when I was here last Friday. She’s wearing a black trouser suit and looks extremely professional. She must be staying a while – business, maybe? The man accompanying her rises from the table, putting his hand out politely. She accepts it with a smile as she stands, letting him tuck her under his arm and lead her out of the bar as they chat and giggle.
I perch on a bar stool to wait for John, taking my phone out to check for messages and missed calls.
‘You would like wine?’
I look up, finding the little barman smiling at me. He speaks with an accent, and I conclude that he’s Italian. He’s very short and rather sweet, with his mustache and receding black hair. ‘I could do with one, but I’m driving.’
‘Ah!’ he exclaims. ‘Just a small one,’ He holds a small wine glass up, drawing a line across the middle with his finger.
Oh, sod it! I shouldn’t drink on the job, but my nerves are shot to bits. He’s in this building somewhere and that’s unsettling enough. I nod on a smile. ‘Thank you.’
He holds up a bottle of Zinfandel. I nod again. ‘Your dress is very, urhh…how you say...striking?’ He pours a little more than half a glass. In fact, it’s full.
I look down at my black, structured, figure hugging dress. Yes, I suppose striking would be a word you could use. It’s my if-all-else-fails dress. I always feel nice in it. I ignore the little voice in my head asking me if I wore it in the hopes of seeing Ward. I snap a lid on that thought immediately and laugh at Mario’s careful choice of words, taking the glass as he passes it over the bar on a smile. I think he means tight. It shows every curve I have. Considering I’m a size ten, there are not many, but if I live with Kate for much longer, that may change. ‘Thank you.’ I smile.
‘Pleasure, Miss O’Shea. I leave you in peace.’ He picks up his cloth and starts wiping the granite counter under the optics.
I sip my wine as I wait for John. It goes down too well and before I know it, I’ve drank the lot. I can’t wait to get home so I can dig into the bottle being kept chilled in the fridge.
‘Hello.’
I swivel on my stool, coming face to face with the woman that was draped all over Ward on Friday. She smiles at me, but it’s the most insincere smile I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving. ‘Hi.’ I say politely.
I see Mario come rushing over with a panic stricken face, waving his cloth in the air. ‘Miss Sarah! No, please. No talk.’
What?
‘Oh, shut up Mario! I’m not stupid.’ she spits.
Poor Mario flinches before returning to wiping the bar, keeping his eyes on Sarah. I want to jump to his defense, but just as I’m contemplating doing exactly that, she puts out her hand.
‘I’m Sarah, you are?’
Oh yes, the last time she asked me that I didn’t answer and left rather hastily. I accept her hand, shaking it lightly as she eyes me suspiciously. I can tell she doesn’t like me. Perhaps she sees me as a threat.
‘Ava O’Shea.’ I offer, releasing my hold of her hand swiftly.
‘And you’re here because?’
I laugh lightly. I’m sure she knows exactly why I’m here, which only serves to confirm that she’s feeling threatened and going out of her way to make me feel uncomfortable. Sheath the claws, lady. I silently smile at the thought of telling her that it’s because her boyfriend pleaded with me to be here.