He fights a smile, knowing damn well what he’s doing. ‘Don’t go to work.’
I knew this was coming. ‘Please, don’t.’
He pouts. ‘Don’t you want to fall into bed and let me pay special attention to you all day?’
I could think of nothing better, but if I relent on this, I’m fully aware that I’m setting a rod for my own back. He can’t keep me to himself all of the time, although I know he doesn’t think that his ambition is unreasonable. ‘I have to work.’ I say, clenching my eyes shut when he turns his lips into my ear.
‘I have to have you.’ He circles his tongue lightly in my ear.
Oh God, I need to escape now! ‘Jesse, please.’ I wriggle in his embrace.
He scowls at me in the mirror. ‘Are you denying me?’
‘No, I’m delaying you.’ I reason, wriggling harder and turning myself around in his arms. I push him down to his back and lay on his front, pushing my lips onto his. His arms fall above his head as he moans around my kiss. ‘I need to work, God.’
‘Work me. I’ll be a very grateful client.’
I pull back and smile. ‘You mean to say that instead of busting a gut keeping clients happy with drawings, plans and schedules, I should just jump into bed with them?’
His eyes turn black. ‘Don’t say things like that, Ava.’
‘It was a joke.’ I laugh.
I’m flipped over and pinned under his body. ‘Do you see me laughing? Don’t say things that will make me crazy mad.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I blurt quickly. I need to cop on to his zero tolerance approach to lighthearted jokes that suggest me with another man.
He shakes his head and lifts himself from my body, strolling off to the wardrobe. I sit up and take the loss of distraction as an opportunity to concentrate on finishing my make-up. I’ve really upset him.
An unexpected and very unwelcome image of Jesse with another woman jumps into my head. I do my own little head shake. It’s like my sub-conscience is giving me a taste of my own medicine. I screw my face up in disgust and throw my eyeliner into my make-up bag. It worked. I feel my flesh prickling with possessiveness.
After smothering myself in coco butter, I slip my lace underwear on and my red shift dress.
‘I like your dress.’
I swing around and my eyes are assaulted by a devastatingly handsome, navy suited beast. I sigh in appreciation. He is just too bloody perfect and he’s not shaved. I swoon on the spot. He looks like he’s got over his little strop.
‘I like your suit.’ I counter.
He grins and finishes straightening his grey tie before pulling the collar of his white shirt down. If I was any other woman and I found out about The Manor and the God who owned it, I would join too.
I’m being distracted again. I throw my bag on the bed, retrieve my phone, sweep some gloss across my lips and grab my shoes, all under his watchful eye. I have another futile rummage through my bag for my pills, but I know I’m searching in vain.
‘Lost something?’ He splashes some aftershave on.
Oh, that smell. ‘My pills.’ I grumble with my head practically in my oversized, leather shoulder bag. I run my fingers around the stitching of the lining to check for rips.
‘Again?’
I look up at him and smile apologetically. I feel stupid, and I’m not relishing the thought of visiting Doctor Monroe again. I need to sort that today before I miss anymore.
‘I’ll see you later.’ He lands me with a chaste kiss on my cheek and leaves me to carry on searching for rips in the lining of my bag. What a nightmare. Maybe I should just get the jab and save myself all of this embarrassment.
I freeze on the spot, my brow furrowing, my mind jumping the gun…I think.
No, he wouldn’t. Why ever would he?
Chapter 9
As I walk into the foyer, I find Clive rubbing the cuff of his jacket on the marble desk, buffing it to a shine.
‘Morning, Clive.’
‘Good morning, Ava.’ he says happily.
I return his cheeriness with an over-the-top smile. ‘Clive, I don’t suppose you could show me the CCTV footage from Sunday, could you?’
‘No!’ he blurts quickly, suddenly becoming busy and frantically typing on his keyboard.
I eye him suspiciously, but he won’t look at me. I don’t believe this. Jesse has beaten me to it. He knew I would ask Clive. ‘Has Jesse spoken to you?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head and keeps his eyes down.
‘Of course.’ I sigh, turning and walking out of the foyer. The Lord is cute, and I’m suspicious.
‘Oh, Ava!’ I hear Clive coming after me. ‘Maintenance rang. The door is on order, but it’s coming from Italy so it may be a while.’ He walks besides me.
‘You should call Jesse and let him know.’ I carry on walking, and he carries on flanking me.
‘I did, Ava. Mr Ward advised me that I should consult with you on anything regarding the penthouse.’
I skid to a halt. He said what? ‘I’m sorry.’ I sound confused.
Clive looks nervous. ‘Mr Ward, he….urh….he said you live here now and anything concerning the penthouse should be run past you.’
‘Oh, he did, did he?’ I grind. I shouldn’t sound so menacing. It’s not Clive’s fault. ‘Clive, do me a favour. Ring Mr Ward and tell him I don’t live here.’
Clive looks like I’ve just told him that he has two heads. I’m fuming. He moves me in under the persuasion of a sense f**k followed by a reminder f**k, and then expects me to become Molly mop? No amount of sense or reminder f**king will work in his favour this time.