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And yet I’m not sure I’m strong enough to stay away from her.
3
I walk backto my office in a bit of a daze, wishing I could relive every second of the past hour on repeat. The darkness feels like it’s swiftly closing in again. I close the door and stare at the couch where she sat. Approaching, I collect the glass she drank from, seeing her nude lipstick on the rim. “Ava O’Shea,” I say quietly, heading for my chair and lowering into it. I set the glass in the center and study it for a while, my mind mush. Then I get my phone from my pocket and pull up the photo. The photo of her literally running away from me. The thought is as depressing as fuck, and I cast my eyes across to the drinks cabinet. I feel nothing. No pull. No temptation. Drink is an escape. It makes me forget, and right now, I have something I really don’t want to forget.
I pull up my contacts and dial Chris Clements, my estate agent. He answers on the first ring. “Mr. Ward,” he says, thrilled to hear from the man who’s earned him a heap of commission.
“Chris, how are you?”
“All good, my friend. All good.”
Friend? Ten million bought me a penthouse, it didn’t buy Chris a friend. “I want to see Lusso again,” I tell him, and I immediately sense his worry.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is fine.” I smile as I reach for the glass and start turning it slowly on the spot. “Don’t worry, I’m not pulling out. I want to show my housekeeper around.”
“Name your time.”
“I was thinking Sunday.”
“Not a problem.”
I nod, happy. “I’ll confirm a time once I’ve spoken to her.”
“Just let me know.”
“Thanks, Chris.” I hang up and rake a hand through my hair. It’s the weekend. What will she be doing? Where will she be going? Who with? I fall into a daydream and walk my way through my meeting with Miss O’Shea, analyzing every look, every word, every move. Could I have played it differently? Absolutely, yes. Was I capable of playing it differently? Categorically, no.
I could change my approach now. But the question is, will I get the chance?
The deep ache inside gives me my answer. So does another quick look at the picture of her running away.
I swipe up my keys and head out, passing John as I stalk through the summer room. “Everything okay?” he asks my back.
No. “Fine,” I call, passing the bar. “I won’t be around tonight.”
“What?” John blurts after me, uncharacteristically shocked.
“What?” Sarah asks, appearing before me, looking as if she’s stumbled across alien activity.
“What?” Sam and Drew say in unison, pausing on their way up the stairs.
I reach the door and turn, finding a peanut gallery of surprise. I smile my signature smile, if only to reassure them I’ve not been possessed. Although, there’s definitely something weird hijacking me. “I’m sure you’ll survive without me.” I wink at the boys, slip on my Ray-Bans, and break free of The Manor, taking the steps fast and jumping into my Aston. I rev the engine hard and pull off, kicking up the gravel behind me. My phone is ringing before I make it to the gates.
“What’s going on?” Sarah asks. “Where are you going?”
“I’m staying at my own place for a few nights.”
“Why?”
Good fucking question.“Sarah, let me breathe, will you?” I say as diplomatically as I can. If she’s not trying to make me surrender to her fucking whip, she’s suffocating me with her egocentric smothering. I’m not sure which is worse, to be honest. But, as I remind myself repeatedly, along with John, she needs to fuss over me. She needs that and her whip like I need alcohol and sex, and God help anyone who tries to take my escape away. “I’ll be back,” I assure her. “I have a few things to do.” I pull onto the main road and put my foot down, heading toward the city.
“Like what?” she asks, quite rightly. She’s not stupid. She takes care of most of my affairs. It’s something else she needs, another form of containing me. But, again, I have to let her have it. The alternative isn’t an option. She also saw my face, my persona, in the entrance hall of The Manor, probably even watched me give a woman a flower. And now I’ve gone AWOL. She’ll be having me sectioned.
“I’m moving a week tomorrow. I have a few things I need to set up in the city, and Cathy wants to see the new place. I may as well stay at my rental.”
“Right,” she replies, very quietly. Suspiciously.
