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Ava wastes no time tucking in, tilting her head as she cuts into an egg. “You should know your temptress is extremely pleased with herself.” On a cheeky grin, she pops her fork in her mouth and slips it out on an erection-provoking pop.Fuck. I can’t be mad with her anymore. It’s a waste of our time. She’s learned her lesson, I’ve learned mine. I’ll be disposing of all handcuffs at The Manor and maybe sending out a mug shot of Ava to all sex shops.Do not serve this woman.Besides, it seems after copping a load of Ava’s diary, I have bigger problems on my plate, and since I’m now perfectly reassured that Ava’s not skipping town since she found out there’s a solid eleven years—soon to be twelve—between us, I should get on and deal with the next shitstorm. I’ll start with crowding her.
She has information she deemed vital to our relationship. So, yes, she’s pleased with herself. “I bet she is. Does she know how crazy in love with her I am?”
She disintegrates in an instant, her chewing slowing, her eyes shimmering as she admires me across the table. Her view has nothing on mine. “I think she does.”
“She had better not just think,” I say, finally starting my brunch.
“She knows.”
“Good.”
“What’s the problem, anyway? Thirty-seven is nothing.”
What about thirty-eight? Two years off forty. And nothing? She should live thirty-seven years ofmylife. It feels like centuries. A long, painful torture, each day spent in a smog of women and drink to try and make them pass faster and easier. But now I have Ava? I don’t want to miss a moment. What I would do to rewind my life and meet her so much sooner. I frown to myself. But if I’d met Ava after Lauren, she would have only been seven. I feel green all of a sudden. Seven? It sounds so fucking wrong. I look up at Ava. The twenty-six-year-old goddess. What’s the problem? “I don’t know.” I shrug. “You’re in your mid-twenties, and I’m in my late thirties.”
“So?” she says, studying me as I squirm. “It bothers you more than it does me.”
Easy for her to say. And how the fuck was I supposed to know that at the crack of dawn when she was getting her kicks out of torturing me? “Maybe,” I muse, returning to my plate, my mind returning to Ava’s imminent meeting with Van Der Haus.
Your age doesn’t matter. She loves you.
It’s both a relief and a worry, because if thirty-seven isn’t an issue for her, then maybe mid-forties isn’t either, and that’s exactly where Freja’s ex-husband is. Don’t tell me Van Der Haus meets with all the interior designers of his projects. No. He has an army of staff to do that and feed back to him. I’m not worrying over nothing. This is something. Van Der Haus knows who I am. He knows his wife has frequented the rooms of my manor. That was enough for him to hold a grudge. Now he also knows his wife was in my bed. If he finds out I’m seeing Ava? His ego would never take it. Or does he already know? Has Freja disregarded my threat? Is that why he’s called a meeting with Ava today? These are all questions Freja could answer, if she would only take my fucking call.
My stressed sweat is very real. “So, when are we going dress shopping then?” I blurt after the waiter clears our table, grappling for my coffee to dampen my dry mouth.
“Friday lunch?” she suggests, looking less than enthused.
“That’s cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it?” She’ll find a dress in an hour on her lunchbreak? I remember the last time she found a dress on her lunchbreak. The dress didn’t live long.
“I’ll find something.”
“Put me in your diary for Friday afternoon,” I say as the bill lands. “Allafternoon.”
Her frown is so cute. “What?”
I pay, watching her across the table as she slowly figures out what’s going down here. Me. Taking the power. She can’t deny me. Sheowesme.
“Make Mr. Ward a Friday afternoon appointment,” I reiterate. “Say, one-ish. We’ll go dress shopping and there will be no rush to get ready for the party.” Heaven.
“I can’t book out my whole afternoon for one appointment,” she protests. And Miss Unreasonable is back.
“You can and you will. I’m paying him enough.” I rise from my chair and push it tidily under the table. “You need to tell Patrick that you’re living with me.” I give her an expectant look. “I’m not pussyfooting around him for much longer.”
She accepts the hand I offer, impatience adorning her face. She has absolutely no chance of a win today. “It will make things awkward,” she argues, letting me lead her out. “He won’t be impressed, Jesse. And I don’t want him to think that I’m slacking instead of working if I should have any business meetings with you.”
I hope he does give her a hard time. It’ll only happen once. She’ll quit, I’ll set her up in business so she’s her own boss with no one to please but me, and all will be right in my world. “I couldn’t give a fuck what he thinks. If he doesn’t like it, you’ll retire.”
“You’re going to trample him, aren’t you?”
I smile but don’t answer. I don’t need to. I swap a fifty with the valet for my keys and turn into Ava. “Are we friends?”
She melts into my chest, her face nuzzling into my hand on her cheek. “Yes. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Anytime.”Allthe time. Maybe I could take her for lunch now. Or to The Manor to continue with her work for me. I know I’m hoping in vain. “Where are you going now?” I ask, latching on to my lip. Yes, I sawwhoshe’s meeting. Problem is, it sent my vision red so I couldn’t seewhereshe’s meeting him.
“The Royal Park.”
“Near Lancaster Gate?” I ask, and she nods. “I’ll take you.” I quickly attach my mouth to hers, kissing her with force, thrusting my groin forward, eliminating any chance of her protesting. I’m taking her. End of. What I don’t know yet, though, is what the fuck I’m going to do once I’m there.
