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“Do you feel sick?” she asks, head cocked.
“No, not yet.”
“Do you want to stop now before you do and save some room for the well-balanced meal I’m making you?”
Well-balanced? I don’t need well-balanced food. I just need tobewell balanced. “Why, baby,” I coo, slowly placing the lid back on my vice. “Are you nagging me?”
“No.” She snorts, horrified. “I’m asking you a question.”
She’s nagging. I quite like it. She’s cooking me dinner, and she’s nagging me. Both turn me on. But more than that, how easy this is, us in our home, just being normal, turns me on more. “I like your sweatshirt,” I whisper, nibbling at my lip. I bet I can make her change her mind of the food versus loving matter. “I like black on you.” It adds a sultry edge to her never-ending elegance.
“You do?” she asks, coy.
“I do.”
“It’s Monday tomorrow.” Her shoulders straighten in an act of assertiveness.
I frown at her random statement, stowing away my palms by folding my arms. “And?”
“And...nothing. I was just wondering what you might have planned.”
Oh. Her question wasn’t random at all. It’s Monday, therefore the start of a working week. I’ve only just got her back, and now I’m going to lose her to the demands of her job? And, more worryingly, clients. Has Van Der Haus been in touch with Ava? Should I be worried? “What haveyougot planned?” I ask, testing the waters.
“Work,” she replies, all too vague for my liking. What work? What clients? And the anxiety returns. How am I going to deal with this? It’s quite simple, really. I just need to ensure The Manor’s renovation takes up all of Ava’s time, make sure it’s financially appealing for Peterson, and hope he disperses her other clients to other staff. Peterson will be easy to convince. Ava, however, is another matter entirely. How do I approach this?
“Don’t even think about it,” she says, snapping me from my plotting. I blink and look up, not liking the warning on her face. “I’ve important meetings to keep.”
With whom?“Just one day?”Until I figure out the solution that works for both of us.
“No,” she answers quickly. Too quickly. “You must have lots to catch up on at The Manor.”
“I suppose so,” I mutter, accepting that enforcing anything to do with Ava’s work right now isn’t going to do me any favors.
“Oh, Clive said there was a woman here earlier.”
I still for a moment, frantically trying to find my poker face. A woman? “He did?”
“He said that she was trying to get up to the penthouse,” she goes on, while I fight to keep my eyes from widening in worry as she studies me.What the fuck?“She wouldn’t give her name and you didn’t answer your phone when Clive tried to call you. Blond woman. Mature. Wavy hair.”
“I’ll have a word with him,” I say quickly, looking past her to the oven. “Is my well-balanced meal ready yet?”
“Who was it?”
“No idea.”
She’s watching me too closely as she slips down and checks the veg. Christ, I’m breaking out in a sweat here. What the fuck is Clive playing at? Clive and I clearly need to have a few words about appropriate discourse with the lady of the house. I go to the drawer and collect some cutlery.
“You really don’t have any idea?”
I cringe at the wall, my brain working too slowly. “Ava,” I breathe, plastering on a smile as I go back to the island.Think, think, think.“I really have no idea.” Blond woman. Mature. Wavy hair.Freja Van Der Haus.Why can’t she just fuck off back to Denmark and take her ex-husbandandmy problems with her? “But I assure you, I will speak to Clive and see if I can establish who she was.” I’ve bought myself some time, but how much? Freja will soon have it confirmed Ava and I are together. I could revoke her membership. Problem is, I don’t know if she cares. When I spoke to her a couple of hours ago, she was apparently worried about me. But then she hit me with the news that Van Der Haus knows she’s been in my bed. Then she was asking questions about Ava. What? Was she checking we’re still together before she enlightens her husband on that too?Jesus fucking Christ.“Now, feed your man.”
Ava scowls, though it’s playful, and relents with the interrogation—thank God—serving up the chicken. It smells divine, and I’m suddenly starving. And desperate to move the conversation along. I load my fork and dive right in, humming my approval. “How was your day with your brother?” How long do I have to share her with him? I remember Ava mentioning he was living the dream in Australia. Good. So he’ll be fucking off to continue living the dream very soon.
“Fine.” She joins me at the island and starts working her way through her food.
“Just fine?” I ask. “This is really good.”
She smiles, though it’s light. “We had a great day. We did Madame Tussauds and went to dinner at our favorite Chinese.”
