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“I’m sorry if I can’t get excited about attending a party where every time someone looks at me or speaks to me, I’ll be thinking they might want to drag me upstairs and fuck me.”
I flinch, dropping my silverware to my plate. “For fuck’s sake.” I shove it across the bar and wipe my mouth with my napkin, slamming it on the bar. “Ava, watch your mouth,” I snap, rubbing soothing circles into my temples. I open my eyes and find her pouting at her plate, sulking. There was absolutely no need for her sarcasm. She thinks I’d allow that? “No one will be doing any such thing because they all know you’re mine.” And if they don’t, I’ll make sure they do. “Don’t say things that make me crazy mad.”
“Sorry,” she grumbles sullenly. It’s a small relief, her tone and persona telling me she’s aware of how unreasonable she’s being.
“Please try and show a bit more willingness. I want you to enjoy yourself.”
She sighs, softening, and comes at me, climbing onto my lap and smothering me. I take it this means she’s sorry. “Forgive me?”
“You’re adorable when you sulk.”
“You’re adorableallthe time.” She kisses me. “Take me home.”
Oh God, yes. Let’s get out of here. I’m done sharing her for the day. “Deal. Up you get.” I rise, lowering her to the floor as I do, our mouths fixed, and I start planning our alone time. Sex, bath, sex, shower, sex, another shower, cuddles, more sex, kisses, more cuddles, more sex, another shower.
And then I might let her get ready.
“Oh, no,” Ava blurts, her mouth suddenly missing from mine, her eyes darting, thinking.
“What?”
“I’ve got to get some whiskey for Clive.” She looks at me, a million apologies in her eyes.
“Have you? Why?”
“It’s my peace offering. Can we stop somewhere on the way home?”
Is she serious? That old man doesn’t want peace, he just wants money.For fuck’s sake.If we weren’t passing a Tesco on route, Clive wouldnotbe getting his whiskey. Lucky for the old scrounge, there’s one ten miles down the road. “Clive’s earned well out of this and he didn’t even fulfil his brief.”
“How much did you pay him?” Ava asks as I walk us out of The Manor.
“Not enough for him to do the job properly.” I look back, my brow raised, and she smiles that God-glorious smile, making my dick twitch and my heart soar. “Don’t look at me like that when I’m in no position to take you, Ava.” I open the car door. “Get in the car.”
She stands taller, the signs of a protest coming.Not now, baby. I’m all out of patience today, and it’s a long night ahead of us.“What about my car?” she asks.
“I’ll get one of the staff to drop it off.” I help her into my car as I look over the roof, directly down the tree-lined driveway to the gates of The Manor. They’re closed, as always, until someone opens them.
How easy it would be toneveropen them again. To never be interrupted. I’m jarred by the thought. But...doesn’t all my stress, the altercations, my disagreements, lead back to The Manor? The ancient, handsome, sprawling building has always been my life. Like it was Uncle Carmichael’s. But he had a woman who welcomed the hedonistic lifestyle he chose to lead. Joined in. I do not, and I don’t want one. My purpose and passion now lie outside the gates of The Manor. I’m growing detached, feeling like I no longer need this place. But many do.
So the gates will continue to open.
31
The Tescoten miles down the road didn’t have the specific whiskey Clive’s apparently requested. Neither did the Asda ten miles away from there. Neither did the Sainsburys five miles from there. We’re now in a Waitrose three miles from the Sainsburys.
I could have gone to Scotland quicker and picked one up from the fucking distillery. “Just get him this one,” I say, holding up a bottle of Glenmorangie.
Ava examines the label, her frustration clear in all the lines on her forehead. “No, it has to be the Port Wood Finish. It’s a special one.”
Well, isn’t that obvious since we can’t fucking find it. I sigh and put the bottle back on the shelf, scrubbing my hands down my face and trudging slowly after her as she scans every shelf, high and low. I check my watch. At this rate, there will be no alone time at all. And that fucking sucks. “Ava, baby, I’m dying here.”
“I’ve got to find it,” she grates, her fists clenching as she turns a frustrated look my way. “I willnotgive up.”
For some reason, her words hit me harder than perhaps they should. She won’t give up. Isn’t that something I love so desperately about her? Grit. Determination. Commitment. Devotion. Whether that be to find whiskey or stay with me. They’re all things I also trulyneedfrom her.Does that determination drive me completely mad at times? Yes. But it’s something so equally beautiful about her as well. She’s amazing.
“Jesse?”
I blink, seeing Ava’s frustration has turned into a frown.
