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“Why do you ask?”
I close my eyes, my head heavy, my fingertips ironing out the creases on my forehead. How do I answer that? Do I tell her I’ve recently acquired a woman whom I’ve become a little obsessed with, and I’m concerned that her slimeball husband will find out and exact revenge? Would Ava be attracted to him? Lord, she’s getting her knickers in a twist overmyage, and I know Van Der Haus is at least mid-forties. But he’s got that smooth, suave thing going on. And an accent. All refined and gentlemanly. I inwardly pout. I can be a gentleman.
When I want to be.
One thing’s for sure, though. He won’t be a snitch on me in the bedroom. So why am I starting to sweat? “I ask because I don’t want The Manor being dragged into your mudslinging match in court.” Because make no mistake, she’ll be trying to rinse him dry. Do I need to remind her of the contract?
“Don’t worry. I would like to retain my membership, thank you.”
My lip curls. Great. “So?” I prompt.
“He doesn’t know you tied me up, gagged me, and fucked me from behind, no.”
I flinch in my chair. “Good to know,” I murmur, beginning to feel drained already, and I’ve only been here five minutes. “Good talking.” I hang up and pull up Ava’s number. Call her. Just to hear her voice. Just to level out my mood. I look down at my Rolex. It’s only been an hour since I left her. Too much?
I drop my forehead to my desk, giving it a good whack, my phone clenched in my fist. I give that a good whack on the desk too. All she had to do was spend the day with me. It’s not too much to ask.
There’s a knock on the door, and someone strolls in. I remain slumped over my desk, but I manage to lift my head a bit to see who. John looks over his glasses at me. Shakes his head. And leaves without a word.
I pull my laptop closer. Flowers. Send her flowers. Loads of flowers. I need to constantly send her flowers or books or... anything, just to remind her I’m here. Or one flower. The flower that reminds her of me.Understated elegance.I smile, relaxing back in my chair, seeing her in my mind, gazing at me as she accepted the single calla. How much more will she accept? The flowers, yes. My body, yes. This unrelenting need to see her every day? I hope so. My Manor? I gaze around my office, my eyes falling on the cabinet that’s still loaded with alcohol. My history? I swallow, my hand naturally resting on my lower stomach.History, Ward. It’s all history. And it’ll stay that way.
I dive back on my laptop to order the flowers, looking up when Sarah strolls in, her eyes on her phone. I snap my laptop shut. “You’re here,” she says without looking up.
“I’m here,” I confirm, wishing I fucking wasn’t. “What’s happening?”
She glances my way. Definitely recoils. “You look... stressed.”
I stand and round my desk. It’s this place. Obviously I can’t deal with it when I’m sober. “I’m moving today,” I say lamely, passing her. “A lot on my mind.” I haven’t once thought about the fact that I’m moving today. Not once. I need to call Cathy. “How are the rooms coming along?”
Sarah follows me, her heels clicking the floor. That irritates me too. “All of the beams are now reinforced. What about the designs? How are they coming along?”
Good question. I need Ava back here, and not just to design. Close. Keep her close. She’s young, beautiful, ambitious. It’s only a matter of time before a more suitable match comes along and sweeps her off her feet. A younger, unbroken man. I frown. Not happening. “Great,” I lie, as we pass through the summer room. “And the anniversary party?”
“Invites have gone out.”
Our annual glamorous shindig/gigantic orgy is four weeks away. I’ll confess to Ava before then. Tell her what this place really is, and then she can come. Be my date. Obviously, she won’t leave my side. Or step foot in the communal room. I nod agreeably to myself. Four weeks. I can do that.
“How was last night?” Sarah asks as I take the stairs.
I look over my shoulder, finding what I knew I would. Curiosity. “The launch? You should know, you were there.” I round the gallery landing, heading for the new wing. I am not talking to Sarah about Ava. I might say something I regret like yesterday and be forced to apologize by guilt.
“She doesn’t know what goes on here, does she?”
My teeth scrape together. “Not yet.” If she laughs, I can’t promise I won’t lose my shit. “But she will,” I add, wondering how the fuck I’m going to tell Ava. She thinks I’m a hotelier, for fuck’s sake.
“Planning on keeping her around, then?”
I stop just shy of the entrance to the new wing, turning to face Sarah. “I need you to back off.”
Her face softens. That pisses me off too. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“I don’t need you to look out for me, Sarah.” I motion up my tall, well-built frame. “I’m a big boy, in case you haven’t noticed.”
She looks at me tiredly. “You’re vulnerable.”
I laugh. “What?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re a bloody millionaire, Jesse. And she’s a lot younger than you.”
