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“Ava,” he grunts, eyes on me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, wary, looking back at the big man as I take Ava into the bar. I put her on a stool and join her.
“S’all good.” He’s lying. What the fuck’s going on? Whatever it is, he clearly doesn’t want Ava to hear. “Caterers are in the kitchen,” he says, motioning that way, like I could have forgotten where they are. “And the band will be here at five to set up.” His head tilts. “Sarah has it all under control.”
Was that a dig? “Great,” I say quietly, watching as Ava keeps her attention elsewhere, watching various members of my staff working. “Where is she?” I return my attention back to John.
“She’s in your office sorting out the gift bags.” He reaches up to his shades and moves them down his nose a tiny bit, looking over the top of them at me. I find myself leaning back on my stool. What the fuck’s going on, and why does John seem to be in a foul mood with me?
I order some drinks and lunch, and Mario slides our two waters over. I cautiously turn my eyes back onto a looming John. He flicks his head, an order to get my arse in gear. Looks like it’s time to face the music. Would be helpful to know what track I’m walking in on, though. “Are you happy to stay here while I go and check on a few things?” I don’t know why the fuck I’m asking. I obviously don’t want Ava to hear whatever John has to say.
“Are you going to have Mario guard me?” she asks as I pour her water, a certain edge of sarcasm in her tone.
“No.” I throw John a filthy look when the miserable bastard laughs. “There’s no need now, is there?”
“I suppose not. Where is everyone?”
“We close during the day on anniversary night. There’s a lot to get ready.” I return her hands to her lap and drop a kiss on her forehead. “John?” Let’s get this over with. Whateverthisis.
“Ready when you are.” The sarcasm in this place today, though?
I curl my lip at John and give Ava a little more fuss, just...because. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Are you sure you’re okay here?”Please say no. Please insist I stay.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she pushes me off and faces the bar. Just like that. “I’m fine.”
“Clearly,” I mutter, reluctantly following John out of the bar, looking back, seeing she’s already engrossed in Mario’s bar skills.
The moment I’m in the foyer, John swings around, and I back up, cautious. He’s removed his glasses, a telltale sign that I’m in for it. “What the fuck are you playing at?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “What the fuck am I playing at?”
“You’re going to ask her to marry you?”
“Oh.” I reach up and scratch my head, looking around us, checking for listening ears. And then I wonder— “Wait, how the fuck do you know that?” I step back, getting the whole of his robust frame in my sights, as well as moving out of the reach of his boulder fist. “I’ve not told you.”
“You don’t need to when you’re spending one hundred grand in Harrods, you stupid motherfucker.” He turns and stomps away, and I chase his heels.
“I could have been buying anything. A car, a holiday, a—”
John stops abruptly and flies around, making me back up again. “Were you?”
“Was I what?”
“Buying a holiday, a car?”
No, I was buying a life.I stuff my hands in my pockets. “No,” I admit. “I was buying a ring.” Just putting it out there. Removing any room for misunderstanding.
I’m a dick.
“And the person whom you’re giving this ring to,” he says, his voice low. “When she agrees to marry you, it’s because she knows you inside out, right? She’ll say yes because your relationship is full of honesty and trust and faithfulness.”
Well, that’s pissed all over my Cornflakes, hasn’t it? “I...it’s...” I stall, chewing my lip while chewing over my approach. “I will...” I take a few breaths. “It’s going to...” I scowl. “Oh, do fuck off.” I barge past him. “She loves me.”
He laughs, and it’s torturous, following me through The Manor. “She doesn’t fucking know you.”
“She knows I love her. Immeasurably.”
“Yes, but for a marriage to work, stupid boy, it’s kind of essential for each party to know the person they’re supposedly loving, or it’s technically fucking fraud.”
