Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Ava’s work friend, Tom, bowls through the door. “Mr. Ward.” His eyes ping-pong between Ava and me.
I clear my throat. “Tom.”
“I’m just going for a business meeting with Mr. Ward,” Ava says, looking at Tom in a way that suggests he should keep his gob shut. I can’t help but laugh. It’s laugh or fly off the handle. Shit. How the hell do I stop her meeting Van Der Haus?
“Oh, I see. A business meeting, huh?” He winks and Ava rolls her eyes, exiting sharply.
I close the door and join Ava on the pavement. I feel her look at me, wariness leaking from every one of her lovely pores. I know she’s expecting me to seize her hand. Maybe even throw her over my shoulder. But no.
I start walking, a nice, leisurely stroll, and she falls into line beside me, constantly peeking up at me as we go. Naturally, I’m itching to touch her, feel her, but with each second I deny us both, her caution grows. And so does her need. I can feel the magnet between us straining to bring us together, and it is taking everything in me and more to resist it. I peek down at her. She’s having the same battle. Anger. Desire. It’s conflicting.
“Excuse me, have you got the time?” a woman asks.
Why, yes. Yes, I do. And I bet you’re wondering what else I have. I flash the woman a deliberate, inviting smile, willing her to indulge me. I look down at my watch. “It’s ten fifteen,” I say, sensing Ava’s irritation. Her annoyance. She’s jealous. I love it. So I spend a few more moments indulging my admirer, smiling, as she edges past and Ava waits for me to finish proving my point. Happy I have, I slowly carry on, feeling the woman staring at me as I go.
I spot the valet I’ve not long left my car with, and he tips his hat as the door is opened for us. I swoop my arm out in gesture for Ava to lead on, and she frowns, entering slowly, looking around with an awe she can’t hide. Yes, we’re having brunch at The Ritz while I make you sweat and then, hopefully, beg for my forgiveness. I’m still thinking of all the ways she can apologize.
We’re shown to a table at the far end of the restaurant, and I scan the menu fast and order fast, refraining from sending the waiter on his way when he takes his sweet, motherfucking time dressing our laps with the napkins. He eventually fucks off.
“How’s your day going?” I ask, interrupting her taking in our surroundings. There’s only one thing in The Ritz right now that should have Ava’s attention, and he’s right here, brooding as he dumps the napkin back on the table in a messy pile.
She watches me carefully, like she’s assessing the merits of bolting and getting out of the firing line. But she won’t bolt. And if she does, I’ll rugby tackle her to the ground. The Ritz be damned. I’m not cuffed now, and Ava is obviously nervous as shit about my freedom. “I’m not sure,” she whispers.
I smile to myself as I contemplate the sparkling silverware. “Shall I tell you how my day is going?”
“If you like.” Her voice wobbles, her fingers fiddling nervously with the tablecloth. If I like? God, she doesn’t want to know what I’d like right now. All over this table. Me banging an apology out of her. Showing her that my age doesn’t matter because there’s no one in this town who can fuck like I can fuck. And though I’m no expert and have screwed it up more times than I care to remember, I need to show her that no one will ever love her like I can love her. But I’m too mad right now, so we’ll stick with fucking because, worryingly, I’m apparently better at it.
I nail her to the chair with my laser stare. If I like? “Well,” I begin, keeping my hands under control, flat on the table. “My morning run was waylaid by a challenging little temptress who handcuffed me to our bed and tortured me for information.” My eyes narrow of their own volition, and Ava’s lips straighten. I don’t know much right now, but I do know that Ava will never handcuff me to a bed ever again. “She then abandoned me, leaving me helpless and in desperate need of her.” Is she hearing this? Desperate. Judging by her shrinking, seated form, she’s taking note. “I eventually got hold of my phone.” I show her an inch of space between my thumb and finger. “Which she left just . . . out . . . of . . . reach . . .” My hand throbs, as if to shout its displeasure too. “I then waited for a member of my staff to come and free me.” Best not mention Sarah. This grievance is mine and dragging her into it will give Ava a grievance. “I ran fourteen miles in my personal best time to expel some of the pent-up frustrations that she presented me with, and now I’m looking at her beautiful face, wanting to bend her over this wonderfully dressed table and fuck her into next week.”