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I need to work on my distraction tactics. “What?” I ask, trying not to show my impatience.
“When I went to The Manor on Sunday,” she says, her lips pursing. “The gates opened without me pressing the intercom and the front door was ajar.”
“Oh.” Doesn’t she just want to forget last Sunday ever happened, because I’m sure as shit I do? “The gates malfunctioned, apparently.” I can hear the hesitation in my voice. I’m skeptical, I admit. The gates have never malfunctioned. “Sarah had it sorted out.” I kiss her again, keen to get back to where we were, but Ava pulls away, and I scowl, pissed off. Not only with her.
“That’s very convenient. Did the manual front door malfunction too?” She tilts her head, and it is one hundred percent condescending.
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.” But she has a valid point, although I refuse to burden Ava with Sarah’s possible transgressions. I’m well aware of the friction between them, and I can’t expect Ava to appreciate the situation, because she doesn’t know the story.For fuck’s sake. “What would you like to do today?”
I don’t like her sudden awkwardness, or the fact she’s eyeing me, like she could be weighing up what to say. Whatever it is, I’ll do it. “Well, there’s just one thing I have—”
My phone screeches, and I curl a lip at it. “For fuck’s sake.” I swear, if John hits me with more problems, I can’t promise I won’t pack our things and fuck off to another country. Somewhere quiet, where no one can spoil our bliss. I move Ava off me and get up, taking the call outside the bedroom. “John?”
“The immigration police have been in touch again.”
“You’re kidding?”
“You’ve known me for decades. Have I ever played jokes?”
“Didn’t we sort it out last night?”
“We might have, had you not been so welcoming.”
I roll my eyes. “It was early hours of the fucking morning. What did they expect, welcome drinks, canapes, and a show? They’ve seen all the paperwork for the staff in question.” I sigh. “They’re trying to warrant the money and time they’ve just tossed down the drain on a wasted raid.” And at the same time, waste my fucking time.Fuckers.
“But for the sake of getting them off our backs, let’s play nice, yeah?”
I grunt my answer.
“And what the fuck have you said to Sarah?” he asks. “She’s been on the verge of tears since you left in the early hours.”
I wince, and I hate myself for it. Guilt. Always the guilt. “She’s sticking her nose where it’s not wanted.”
“She’s worried about you.”
I scoff. Worried? She should be happy for me. Happy I’m not spending my life in a constant state of drunkenness. Sarah’s spent years mothering me, fussing over me, being the only consistent woman in my life. Now she’s not, andthat’swhat’s bothering her. She’s being possessive. She doesn’t like not knowing where I am and what I’m doing. I’m ignoring the reasons why. I can’t ignore the guilt, though. “Fucking hell,” I breathe, slapping my palm into my face and pulling it down. Fuck, that hurt.Stupid hand.“I’ll sort it.”
“Make sure you do. I don’t need to remind you that your manor runs like clockwork because of that woman. Including making sure all the correct paperwork is in place, you get me? Show some fucking gratitude.”
“What, like letting her at me with her whip?” I ask, because we both know that’s what she really wants. As well as my heart.
“Motherfucker,” he rumbles, hanging up on me.
“Back to the real world,” I say quietly, my head dropping back on my shoulders. This isn’t how I wanted to start my day with Ava, and I’m pissed off about that. “Fuck it,” I hiss, returning to the bedroom. “I’ve got to go to The Manor.” I head into the bathroom and collect a towel from the pile, throwing it over the top of the glass pane, keen to get this out of the way so I can crack on with my new life.
“Is everything okay?” Ava calls.
“It will be, get ready.” I flip on the shower and step into the stall, washing myself roughly, my mood low. Until I look up and see Ava standing naked in the doorway. And there she is. The cure to all the things. I flick my head, and she wanders over, joining me. But what’s with that look of apprehension?
She claims the shower gel and sponge. She’s going to wash me. Care for me. No. I claim them and turn her away from me, taking a moment to take in every wet, naked inch of her back before I start to soap her up. She’s quiet, and I’m definitely not imagining her tenseness.
“Jesse?”
I forsake washing her and dip, kissing her shoulder before resuming cleaning, hoping it’ll loosen her up. “Ava?” I whisper in return.
“I really don’t want to go.” She rushes over the words, tensing further, and I pause, staring at the back of her head.
The Manor. It’s always going to be a problem for her, and that’s a major problem for me, because it’s not going anywhere. “Can I ask why?” Is it the memories? The women? The sex? All of it?
