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)
‘How long have you been stood here?’ I ask when my sobs have finally abated.
‘Long enough,’ he murmurs. ‘What’s all this about a monumental fuck up?’ He squeezes me tighter. ‘I hope to God you weren’t referring to me.’
‘I was.’ I don’t beat around the bush. It would be pointless.
‘You were?’ he sounds surprised and a little pissed, but then a few moments later he follows it up with, ‘Will you come home with me?’ I feel him tense slightly.
I’ve just told him that he’s my monumental fuck up, and he wants to take me home? What about Sarah? They obviously don’t live together then. ‘No.’ I answer. What I’ve done already is bad enough.
‘Please, Ava.’
‘Why?’ I ask. I need to know what his fascination is with me, because if I spend any more time with this man, I may be in even more trouble. I can’t be getting caught up in sordid affairs with older, unavailable men. Although, exactly how old is still to be determined. There is something about this man, and it’s screaming bad news.
He pulls back to look down at me, his beautiful brow furrowed. ‘It feels right. You belong with me.’ He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
‘So, who does Sarah belong with?’
‘Sarah? What’s she got to do with anything?’ He looks really confused now.
‘Girlfriend,’ I remind him. He really has no regard for the poor woman.
His eyes bulge. ‘Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve been ignoring my calls and running away because you thought…’ He releases me. ‘You thought me and Sarah were…’ He steps back. ‘Oh, fucking hell, no!’
‘Yes!’ I exclaim. ‘She’s not?’ Oh, now I’m really confused. The woman couldn’t have made her claim any clearer if she’d have pissed all over him. Who the hell is she then? Oh, I really don’t like her now.
His hands delve into his hair. ‘Ava, whatever made you think that?’
Is he winding me up? ‘Oh, let me see,’ I smile sweetly. ‘Maybe it was the kiss in the hallway of The Manor. Or when she came looking for you in the bedroom. Or it could be her frosty reception to me,’ I draw breath. ‘Or, perhaps, it’s the fact that she’s with you every time I see you.’ I can’t believe this. I’ve been beating myself up about this, and over a woman that I really don’t like. What a waste of conscience! ‘Who is she?’ I ask, completely riled.
He holds my hands, leaning down so his eyes are level with mine. ‘Ava, she’s a little friendly.’
‘Friendly?’ I scoff. ‘That woman is not friendly!’
‘She’s a friend.’ he says soothingly. I don’t want soothing. No, I want to pop some pouty red lips! She knew exactly what she was doing. She, clearly, wants to be more than friends.
He brushes his palm down my cheek. ‘Now we’ve clarified Sarah’s position in my life, can we talk about yours?’
What? I recoil. ‘What do you mean?’ His previous comments suddenly embed themselves into my mind. All of the, you’re mine, I’ll keep you and you’ll change your mind.
He smirks. ‘I mean in my bed and under me.’ He yanks me into his chest, and I resume nuzzle, sagging with relief. That sounds good to me. I’ve just added a steaming hot affair with an older man to my bucket list, just so I can tick it off. No commitment, no tying down. This suits me fine. Although, I doubt I would get either of the aforementioned from this man.
‘At The Manor?’ I ask. It’s quite a drive.
‘No, I’ve an apartment behind me, but I can’t move in until tomorrow. I’m renting a place on Hyde Park. You’ll come.’
‘Yes.’ I don’t hesitate, but I’m aware that it wasn’t a question. And I’m also mindful of his previous comments, especially his last one: You belong with me.
Is that his decision, or mine?
He sighs, applying more pressure to my head and back.
Yes, proceed with extreme caution, Ava.
We travel in silence, except for the low tones of Massive Attack’s Teardrops filtering out of his car sound system. How fitting after my sobbing fit. I spend most of the journey deliberating on my decision to come home with Jesse, while he repeatedly draws breath, as if intending to say something but deciding against it.
He pulls his Aston Martin into a gated car park, and I let myself out. Popping his boot and grabbing my bags, he takes my hand and leads me into the building.
‘I’m on the first floor. We’ll take the stairs, it’s quicker.’ He guides me through a grey fire door, into the stairwell and up a flight of stairs.
We exit into a narrow corridor. It looks like a specialist hospital facility. Jesse unlocks the only other door in the long expanse of white and grey, ushers me in, and I’m immediately stood in a large open plan area. It’s white from top to bottom, with black furniture and a black kitchen, monochrome to the absolute maximum – a real guy’s pad. It looks empty, cold and clinical. I hate it.