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Mike sneers at John as he backs out of the room with Sarah. Everything about my oldest friend’s persona tells me he doesn’t want to leave. And he won’t. He’ll wait outside because that’s John through and through. Protective. Loyal. My rock. I give him a nod, telling him I’m good. “I won’t be long,” I assure them both. I have a feeling this is a waste of my fucking time, and I have far more important things to be dealing with. John nods, closes the door, silent and brooding, and I redirect my attention to the prick making himself at home, leaning back on my couch.
He points to the cabinet. “Not going to offer me a drink?”
My jaw stiffens, and I cast my eyes across to the alcohol still holding court. “Want a drink?” I ask, strolling over. It’s barely midday. He doesn’t want a drink, but he’ll have one.
“Vodka,” he says, and I close my eyes, reaching for the bottle. People say you can’t smell vodka. It’s bullshit. I unscrew the cap and pour, shutting off my sense of smell. “One cube of ice,” he adds.
Opening the mini-fridge, I pull out one cube, dropping it into the glass. The disturbance of the liquid makes the smell waft up. “Here,” I say, turning and walking across my office to him, my arm outstretched, keeping the devil’s juice as far away as possible.
Mike smirks knowingly as he accepts. “Not joining me?”
I ignore him and sit on the couch opposite, fighting to keep my temper in check. “Talk,” I order shortly.
“I hear you’re dating.”
I stare at him with every ounce of malice I feel. “I’m not here to talk about Ava.” I can feel a threat coming, and I’m suddenly so fucking glad she refused to come. This isn’t going to end well. My mood was already in the gutter. This arsehole is going to send it into the sewer.
“Ava,” he muses, looking at his glass as he rolls his wrist, making the ice drag around the inside. Her name coming out of his mouth feels like nails down a chalkboard. “A little birdy told me she doesn’t know about The Manor.”
“A little birdy like who?” Who else am I going to decimate once I’ve seen to Mike?
He smiles. It’s cunning as fuck. “People talk, Ward.”
“Then people should learn to keep their mouths shut.” I get up to restrain my increasingly tense muscles before I dive across the table and strangle the fucker. “You wanted to talk, Mike. So fucking talk.”
“I want you to assure me my wife won’t be coming back.”
“Done,” I say. “And while I’m at it, I’ll revoke your membership too.” I’m done with both of them.
He’s off the couch in a heartbeat. “I’m keeping my membership.”
“Wrong.”
There’s a kerfuffle outside my office, and the door flings open. Sam stands on the threshold taking in the scene, John hovering behind him. “Okay?” I ask.
“Ava’s here,” he pants, and I freeze.The fuck?How? “Jesse?” Sam says, poking me from my inertness. “Ava is here, man.”
I snap to life, being assisted back to reality by the sound of Mike’s cackling laugh. “Who let her in?” I ask, charging past Sam and John, running down the corridor. “Who the fuck let her through the gates?”
“Don’t know,” Sam says.
“Where is she?”
“In the bar.”
But when I land in the bar, Ava is nowhere in sight, and I inhale, fearing the worst. I back out of the room slowly, casting my eyes up the curved staircase.
And I know.
I just fucking know.
Dread builds with every step I take, my pace gaining as I go, and when I reach the bottom of the staircase to the communal room, I peer up, seeing the doors open. Rosa appears, looking stricken with worry.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ward,” she mumbles as she rushes past my static form. I take in air and climb the stairs, feeling heavy and despondent, and when I breach the entrance, I find her standing stock-still in the center of the room, silent, gazing around. As if I need to remind myself what surrounds us, I look too. Ropes. Suspension grids. Every piece of bondage gear imaginable, and also some she probably could never imagine. She looks so wrong in here. So out of place, and for the first time in my adult life, I feel out of place too. I don’t want to be in here.
“Fucking hell,” she says quietly, and I swallow hard.
“Watch your mouth.” It’s all that comes to me. All I’m capable of as I stand here staring at the back of the woman I love, wondering how many moments I have left in her presence. Any peace I’ve had will be taken away... because I’m gutless.This woman deserved truth, not omissions.How can we possibly come back from this?
