AllFreeNovel
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Creeping through the lounge.
Wearing the gray dress that puts the one involved in the dress massacre to shame.
What the ever-loving fuck?I very nearly bite my fucking finger off. “You’re not fucking wearing that!” I yell, taking her in, top to toe, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open.Jesus fucking Christ.“A—”
She’s off like a gazelle, making her escape, and I flinch when the front door slams, shaking the penthouse. “Ava,” I bellow, going after her. “She’ll be the fucking death of me,” I hiss, flinging the door open, just as the elevator doors meet in the middle. I catch a glimpse of her. Smug. Waving. I’ll kill her. Slowly. And that dress is getting shredded while she watches. I look between the elevator and the door that leads to the stairwell, torn over which will get me to her the fastest. “Fuck it.” I head for the stairwell and punch in the code to let me through, flinging myself down the first few flights before I meet another door with another code. “Fuck’s sake,” I hiss, fumbling with the keypad. As soon as I’m through, I race down like a whirlwind, breaking out into the foyer and sprinting through, catching Clive’s alarmed face, his hand in midair holding a phone.
“Mr. Ward,” he says, following me as I tear past. “No clothes again today?”
I break out into the low evening sunshine, spotting her running toward her car. “Get your sweet fucking arse back inside,” I roar, not slowing my pace, racing toward her. She stops and pivots. Could be me, but she looks amused. Not for long. I dip as I approach, tackling her low, flipping her up onto my shoulder, and turn and walk her back toward the privacy of our home. Of all the dresses, of course she chose this one.
I snarl at thin air and grab the hem, yanking it down her thighs, not caring how rough I am. The damn thing will be in a million pieces soon anyway. “It’s just my fucking luck that I go and fall crazy in love with most impossible woman in the fucking world,” I grumble as she chuckles, bouncing up and down on my shoulder as I stride back into Lusso. “Evening, Clive.”
He doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing this time. “Mr. Ward. Hello, Ava.”
“Hi Clive,” she chimes, as happy as a pig in shit.
“I’m at a fucking loss,” I mutter, wondering how I knock this irritating bad habit out of her. I enter the code in the elevator. She’ll put me in an early fucking grave.
“Have you still not got that code changed?”
I scowl at the doors as they close, feeling her small hands sliding past my boxers. She thinks that’s the end of it? “Shut up, Ava.”
“Are we friends?”
“No.” I smack her arse hard, jolting her on my shoulder, making her squeal. “Don’t fuck with me, beautiful girl,” I warn. “You should know by now, I always win.”
“I know,” she sighs, accepting what we both know is bullshit. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” I smile a little, turning my face into her thigh, breathing her skin into me. Soothing. A balm. “But you’re a fucking pain in the arse.” The doors open, and I pace out, taking us back into the penthouse and setting her on her feet.
Flicking her hair out of her face, she turns and struts away with extra sway, my eyes stuck to her arse as she takes the stairs. I definitely caught the terribly concealed smug look on her face. She knew the outcome of this whole situation. She knew I’d chase her down. And she still put the dress on anyway. Anyone would think she likes it when I’m... assertive.
“I guess I’ll go find something more suitable to wear,” she says as she reaches the top, looking over her shoulder, coy. Teasing. What the fuck is she playing at? “By sir’s standards.”
I lower my head, looking at her through slightly narrowed eyes. “I think I’ll come and supervise.”
She smiles, all wide and bright, reaching behind to unzip her dress and watches as I follow her up the stairs into the bedroom. She isn’t playing fair. She tosses her clutch on the bed and disappears into the dressing room, and I dump my arse on the edge of the bed, feeling moody, listening to her huff and puff her way out of the gray dress. I eye her purse, listening out for her, as I pull it close and get her mobile out, set on texting her parents’ number to my phone. Except I can’t. Because it’s asking me for a PIN. “The fuck?” I whisper, tapping at the screen. She locked her phone? Why? “You really piss me off.” I slam it back in her bag, just as she appears at the door, half out of the dress, grinning. Of course, she thinks the dress is still my issue.
“I do?” she asks, letting the material fall down to her stomach, revealing lace-covered boobs and a beautiful bruise skimming the seam. I pout as she backs up.
“Don’t bother hanging it back up,” I grumble, shifting on the bed, uncomfortable. I hear her laugh, then a few clangs and clatters, a few more huffs and puffs.
My eyes fall to the bedside table, seeing something that shouldn’t be there. My forehead heavy, I look away when Ava appears in a lovely pink dress, which is of a far more acceptable length.
She looks down her front, patting down the slightly puffy skirt. “Is this okay?”
“It’s fine.” I point at the nightstand. “What the fuck is that doing there?”
She looks to where I’m pointing. “Oh.”
Jaw ticking, I reach for her ring. “Come here,” I order, and she does, immediately holding out her hand. I slip it back on her finger. “Never take it off again.”
“I was moisturizing. I forgot to put it back on, that’s all.”
“Yes, because you were too busy plotting how you were going to send your husband to the brink of insanity.” I look up at her, finding one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows arched.
“You’re not my husband.”
