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Ava’s work friend, Tom, bowls through the door. “Mr. Ward.” His eyes ping-pong between Ava and me.
I clear my throat. “Tom.”
“I’m just going for a business meeting with Mr. Ward,” Ava says, looking at Tom in a way that suggests he should keep his gob shut. I can’t help but laugh. It’s laugh or fly off the handle.Shit. How the hell do I stop her meeting Van Der Haus?
“Oh, I see. A business meeting, huh?” He winks and Ava rolls her eyes, exiting sharply.
I close the door and join Ava on the pavement. I feel her look at me, wariness leaking from every one of her lovely pores. I know she’s expecting me to seize her hand. Maybe even throw her over my shoulder. But no.
I start walking, a nice, leisurely stroll, and she falls into line beside me, constantly peeking up at me as we go. Naturally, I’m itching to touch her, feel her, but with each second I deny us both, her caution grows. And so does her need. I can feel the magnet between us straining to bring us together, and it is taking everything in me and more to resist it. I peek down at her. She’s having the same battle. Anger. Desire. It’s conflicting.
“Excuse me, have you got the time?” a woman asks.
Why, yes. Yes, I do.And I bet you’re wondering what else I have.I flash the woman a deliberate, inviting smile, willing her to indulge me. I look down at my watch. “It’s ten fifteen,” I say, sensing Ava’s irritation. Her annoyance. She’s jealous. I love it. So I spend a few more moments indulging my admirer, smiling, as she edges past and Ava waits for me to finish proving my point. Happy I have, I slowly carry on, feeling the woman staring at me as I go.
I spot the valet I’ve not long left my car with, and he tips his hat as the door is opened for us. I swoop my arm out in gesture for Ava to lead on, and she frowns, entering slowly, looking around with an awe she can’t hide. Yes, we’re having brunch at The Ritz while I make you sweat and then, hopefully, beg for my forgiveness. I’m still thinking of all the ways she can apologize.
We’re shown to a table at the far end of the restaurant, and I scan the menu fast and order fast, refraining from sending the waiter on his way when he takes his sweet, motherfucking time dressing our laps with the napkins. He eventually fucks off.
“How’s your day going?” I ask, interrupting her taking in our surroundings. There’s only one thing in The Ritz right now that should have Ava’s attention, and he’s right here, brooding as he dumps the napkin back on the table in a messy pile.
She watches me carefully, like she’s assessing the merits of bolting and getting out of the firing line. But she won’t bolt. And if she does, I’ll rugby tackle her to the ground. The Ritz be damned. I’m not cuffed now, and Ava is obviously nervous as shit about my freedom. “I’m not sure,” she whispers.
I smile to myself as I contemplate the sparkling silverware. “Shall I tell you howmyday is going?”
“If you like.” Her voice wobbles, her fingers fiddling nervously with the tablecloth. If Ilike? God, she doesn’t want to know what I’d like right now. All over this table. Me banging an apology out of her. Showing her that my age doesn’t matter because there’s no one in this town who can fuck like I can fuck. And though I’m no expert and have screwed it up more times than I care to remember, I need to show her that no one will ever love her like I can love her. But I’m too mad right now, so we’ll stick with fucking because, worryingly, I’m apparently better at it.
I nail her to the chair with my laser stare.If I like?“Well,” I begin, keeping my hands under control, flat on the table. “My morning run was waylaid by a challenging little temptress who handcuffed me to our bed and tortured me for information.” My eyes narrow of their own volition, and Ava’s lips straighten. I don’t know much right now, but I do know that Ava will never handcuff me to a bed ever again. “She then abandoned me, leaving me helpless and in desperate need of her.” Is she hearing this?Desperate. Judging by her shrinking, seated form, she’s taking note. “I eventually got hold of my phone.” I show her an inch of space between my thumb and finger. “Which she left just...out...of...reach...” My hand throbs, as if to shout its displeasure too. “I then waited for a member of my staff to come and free me.” Best not mention Sarah. This grievance is mine and dragging her into it will give Ava a grievance. “I ran fourteen miles in my personal best time to expel some of the pent-up frustrations that she presented me with, and now I’m looking at her beautiful face, wanting to bend her over this wonderfully dressed table and fuck her into next week.”
Her mouth falls open. She’s shocked? I bet she is nowhere close to the level of disbelief I felt when I opened my eyes this morning. I look down at the lovely, decorated table. And around the restaurant. Why the fuck did I bring her here?
Two coffees appear, and I frown down at the foamy head. That’s exactly how my dick probably looks right now. Frothing. I shift in my chair, uncomfortable, as Ava slowly stirs her coffee, looking up at me. “Youhavehad quite an action-packed morning.”
Action-packed? Fuck me, I must have lost ten kilos, had ten heart attacks, swore more in one day than in my lifetime, and sweated buckets. I never want a repeat. “Ava,” I say over a sigh, “don’t ever do that to me again.”
“You were crazy mad.”
“I was way,waypast crazy mad.” I have to start rubbing soothing circles into my head, massaging away the headache that’s threatening.
“Why?” she asks, and I stop, frowning.
She needs me to explain? “Because I couldn’t get to you,” I snap, and she recoils. She really doesn’t get it, and that’s not good. I can’t believe I have to say it, but I will. If it saves me future heart attacks, I absolutely will. “The thought of not being able to reach you actually made me panic.”
“I was in the room.” She laughs, and then shrinks, making herself small, peeking around nervously.
“You weren’t in the room when you left.”
Her embarrassment vanishes, and coming up the rear fast, overtaking, is annoyance. I’m staggered. She thinks she’s got a right to be mad too? “I left because you threatened me.”
“Well,” I grate. “That’s because you made me crazy mad. When did you get those handcuffs?” I smack the table hard, and the silverware jumps up from the cloth and lands with a clang.
“When I left work yesterday.” She snarls. I swear, one more sign of insolence and I absolutely will give everyone in this restaurant a front-row seat to a sense fuck. “You kind of pissed all over my plan with your retribution fuck.”
“Watch your mouth,” I snap, glancing around, ready to apologize to the lovely people in The Ritz for her disgusting language. “I pissed onyourplan? Ava, let me tell you”—I lean forward, threatening, and meaning to be—“nowhere in my plan was it written that you would have me restrained and at your mercy. So it isyouwho pissed all overmyplan.” I lean back and hold my hand over my mouth, coughing when the waiter delivers our brunch.
“Is that all, sir?” he asks.
“Yes.”Fuck off.“Thank you.”
