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“It’s knocking on ten thirty,” someone else says. “You joining us?”
“No.”
“Love the giftbags.”
“Great night as always.”
I nod, not looking, just pushing my way through.
“Who’s the hotty in lace?”
I turn my deadly glare on to someone—I’ve no fucking clue who—and he steps back, his eyes wide. “Off limits.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” I pull my jacket in and take two more steps.
“Jesse, you look dashing this evening.”
“Thanks.” I dip, letting a woman—again, no idea who—kiss my cheek.
Sam cheers my arrival as I lower to my chair, but Ava does not. I feel her eyes drilling into me as Sarah looks at me in question. She won’t be happy that I’ve bailed Coral out. So I won’t be telling her.
Now, I need to apologize to my girl and get on with the night. I squeeze her knee under the table. “Forgive me?”
“Who was that?”
“No one for you to be concerned about. How is the food?” She’s barely touched it.
“It’s good,” she says, definitely short. “You should eat.”
The moment she says that, a plate is lowered in front of me. I collect my fork, keeping hold of Ava, and eat with one hand, picking at the salmon, feeling the thorny atmosphere between me and Ava. I keep dodging Sarah’s curious looks, and Kate is glaring at me too.Should I have gotten John to handle Coral?Fuck, I don’t know.
John makes it back to the table and gestures it’s taken care of, and I feel Ava stiffen under my hold, taking more wine. Every sip feels like a giantfuck you. But I don’t bite. Instead, I shower her with attention. She doesn’t reciprocate, her mouth tight. Denying me.
I look at her, finding narrowed eyes and a slightly twisted mouth. She’s punishing me. “Are you holding back on me?” I helped a woman out. What the hell was I supposed to do? Leave all hell to break loose?
“Yes,” she replies, straight-up and curt. “Are you?”
“Hey,” I snap before I can stop myself, getting as worked up as Ava. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I realize my hand has tensed, therefore my hold has tightened on her knee, so I loosen it as Ava looks at me in disbelief.
“Let’s see what your reaction would be if a mystery man pulled me away from you for over an hour.”
Um. Let’s not. All the men that could want to pull Ava away from me want totakeher away from me. Okay, Coral wants me, but what makes Ava’s point moot is the simple fact that none of the women who want me could ever turn me against Ava. Sadly, I can’t say the same about me. And doesn’t that amplify my frustration in this moment when I should definitely be working to ease her worry.
I talk myself down, taking a few breaths, and do something pretty fucking shameful. But as I have said a thousand times, I will wield this power unapologetically. I know this is a conversation we need to have—I can’t deflect from who Coral is forever—but now is not the time.
I stroke up Ava’s thigh, watching her chest push out subtly. “Ava, please don’t say things that will make me crazy mad. I’ve told you not to worry so you shouldn’t. End of.”
She snarls, and it’s fierce. “Stop kissing all the women,” she hisses petulantly, turning back to the table, therefore away from me. But she’s not pissed off with me right now. No. She’s pissed off with herself because her body is reacting, and she desperately needs to stay mad with me. She’ll do her best, I’m sure. As will I to knock her out of her bad mood.
So I continue to play havoc with her senses, stroking her gently over her lace knickers, discreetly watching her battle her instinct to succumb to her desire.Stubborn woman.I leave my dessert untouched but down my coffee. I have a feeling I’m going to need some energy to keep my patience.
And I’m right. Ava pretty much ignores me for the rest of dinner, often trying to remove my hand from between her legs. I don’t let her. She laughs and talks, but never with me. She’sreallymaking a point, and unreasonable as it might be, since the reason she’s behaving like a brat is because of me, I’m getting annoyed. But an argument isn’t going to help. Persevere. I look around the table, seeing everyone talking, but I’m not hearing them. Just observing. In the decades these parties have been held, marking the anniversary of The Manor, I have not once been sober. I was always the first in the bar. Always the first to leave the table after dinner. Always the first to venture upstairs, various eager, female members following me.
Which is why said female members are not pleased. They don’t appreciate the changes in me.
And neither in this moment does Ava. I look at her, still defiantly refusing to look at me.
