Beneath This Man (This Man Trilogy)(48)

I feel damned and blessed all at once for having found him.

I sigh wearily, putting my head in my hands in desolation, feeling the tears brimming and a lump in my throat forming. I thought I was beginning to find out what I needed to know but as time goes on, it’s becoming obvious that I haven’t, and with Jesse keeping his lips firmly shut, evading again, it doesn’t look like I’m going to find out anytime soon – unless I ask Mikael…

The door flies open and Jesse comes crashing in, looking like he’s been electrocuted. He’s visibly shaking and the main artery in his neck is bulging. While I’ve calmed significantly, he, it would seem, has not. He holds up something in his hand.

‘What the FUCK is this?’ He looks like he could spontaneously combust at any moment. I frown but then realise he’s holding up the flight details that Patrick gave me.

Oh Jesus, I’m in for it now.

Hang on a minute. That was in my bag. ‘You’ve been through my bag!’ I’m shocked. I don’t know why, he does it all the fucking time. He doesn’t look ashamed or apologetic. He just waves the paper in front of my face while his chest puffs in and out erratically.

I push past him and storm downstairs to my bag, hearing him follow me, his heavy breathing almost louder than his charging footsteps. I rip my bag from the floor and take it into the kitchen.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he shouts. ‘It’s not in there, it’s here.’ He thrusts the paper under my nose as I dump my bag on the island and start rummaging through it.

I have no idea what I’m looking for.

‘You are not fucking going to Sweden or Denmark or any fucking where, for that matter!’ His voice is somewhere between anger and fear.

I look at him. Yes, there is definitely fear in there. ‘Don’t go through my bag.’ I grind the words out through my incensed frustration and look at him accusingly.

He backs away a little and chucks the paper on the island while maintaining his infuriated glare. ‘Why, what else are you hiding from me?’

‘Nothing!’

‘Let me tell you something, lady.’ He stalks forward, getting his face right in mine. ‘I will die before I let you leave the country with that womanising prick.’ A wave of pure dread travels across his face.

‘He won’t be coming!’ I shout, slamming my bag down for effect. I don’t know that for sure and in actual fact, I suspect he probably will. He’s got a plan and a motive. But why?

‘Yes, he will. He’ll follow you there, trust me. He’s relentless in his pursuit of women.’

I actually laugh. ‘Just like you did?’

‘That was different!’ he barks. He closes his eyes and lifts his fingertips to his temples to start rubbing away the tension.

‘You’re impossible.’ I spit. I’ve lost the will to live.

‘And what are you doing taking vitamins?’ He scowls good and proper. ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

Is he winding me up? I grab the vitamins from my bag and throw them at his head. His eyes widen as he ducks stealthily out of the way and they crash against the wall before falling to the kitchen floor. I need to regain control. I’m losing it in a big way.

‘I bought the vitamins for you.’ I yell, and he looks at me like I could possibly be a fruit loop. I’m close.

‘Why?’ He looks at the pot on the floor.

‘You put your body through the mill. Have you forgotten?’

He scoffs. ‘I don’t need pills, Ava. I’ve told you.’ He stalks forward and grabs my arms, pulling me close to his face. ‘I am not a fucking alcoholic. If I drink now, it will be because you make me crazy mad!’ He shouts the last bit in my face.

‘You blame this all on me.’ I state. I’m not asking it as a question because he has already shouted it in my face.

He drops me and walks away. ‘No, I don’t,’ His hands yank on the back of his hair in frustration. ‘What else are you keeping from me? Business trips with rich Dutch men,’ He glares at me. ‘Cosy visits to the ex-boyfriend?’

‘Cosy?’ I splutter. He thinks seeing Matt was cosy? ‘You stupid fucking man!’

‘MOUTH!’

‘Get lost!’ I shout. He really is on another planet. If he knows me as well as he claims he does, then he wouldn’t be throwing such stupid insinuations around.

He throws his hands in the air in a Lord-give-me-strength gesture. ‘I can’t be around you right now,’ he bellows. He clenches his teeth, and I see the muscles of his jaw ticking. ‘I fucking love you, Ava. So fucking much, but I can’t look at you. This is fucked up!’ He stalks out of the kitchen.

I hear the front door slam and moments later, an almighty crash. I run out to the penthouse foyer and Jesse is nowhere to be seen, but the mirrored door of the elevator is shattered into a million pieces. Through my derangement, I instantly think of what further damage he has done to his poor hand. Then, I cry. Hopeless, howl at the moon, blubbering. I feel completely helpless and out of control. I feel like I’m being tested, like he is trying me to see if I have the strength to get him through this total mess and on top of that, I’m battling with the incessant niggling thought that it’s me who has made him like this. It’s not healthy.

I walk back into the big open living area and see all of my bags placed in a neat row at the side of the stairs. What should I do with them? Am I staying?

I leave them and not knowing what else to do, I go and sit myself on a sun lounger on the decking area and cry to myself – loud, shoulder shaking, pouring tears crying, while I try to find some direction and guidance. I’m coming up with nothing between my relentless tears. I’m staring into space and feeling nothing but abandoned. Familiar feelings, all of which I never wanted to feel again, are flooding back into me – the empty feeling, the lost, lonely and dejected emotions that had me residing in the lowest levels of hell while Jesse wasn’t in my life. How have I come to need him so much? How has this happened to me? He’s walked out, and now I’ve got a good idea of how he felt when I did the same to him. It’s not a nice feeling. I feel like a massive part of me is missing.

It is.

The thought of him not being around makes my heart jump into my throat, makes my breath hitch and panic attack me. This is hopeless. I take myself back into the penthouse, upstairs to the master-suite and have a shower. I stand under the sprays of water absentmindedly soaping myself. Everywhere I turn, I see us – me and Jesse on the vanity unit, against the wall, on the floor, in the shower. We’re everywhere.

I get out, suddenly needing to escape the reminders of our intimacies. I flop on the bed, but soon shoot back up into a sitting position, panic invading my entire being. The times we have been apart he’s had a drink. Will he have a drink now? My hearts starts a painful gallop in my chest, working its way up to my mouth. The thought of Jesse mixed with alcohol is enough to have me dashing down to the kitchen to get my phone.

As I enter the kitchen, I get a waft of something smelling really good. Oh! I run to the oven and turn it off, grab my phone and dial John.

His low rumble seeps down the phone after the first ring. ‘He’s here, Ava.’

‘The Manor?’ I’m so relieved but at the same time, I wonder what he’s doing there.

‘Yeah,’ John sounds regretful. It makes me straighten up.

‘Should I come?’ I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m on my way back up the stairs to get dressed.

He hums down the phone. ‘Probably, girl. He went straight to his office.’

I hang up and scrape my wet hair up before shoving my discarded work clothes back on. My car keys. Jesse hasn’t given me my car keys back. I fly downstairs and dive into the boxes of my belongings, praying I’ll find the spare set. Eventually, I lay my hands on them.

I get to the smashed elevator and punch the code in, at the same time thinking that Clive won’t be happy. Since I’ve been here, the maintenance bill must have gone through the roof.

I run through the foyer in my heels and notice Clive knelt down behind his desk. I swiftly pass him without a word. I’ve no time for him this evening. The poor man will wonder what he has done to upset me.

‘Ava!’ I hear him yell after me. I wouldn’t stop, but it sounds like something is seriously wrong. Maybe the mystery woman has been back.

‘What’s up Clive?’

He runs towards me in a panic. ‘You can’t go!’

What’s he talking about?

‘Mr Ward,’ he pants. ‘He said you mustn’t leave Lusso. He was very insistent.’

He what? ‘Clive, I haven’t time for this.’ I carry on my way, but he grasps my arm.

‘Please, Ava. I’ll have to call him.’

I don’t believe this. He’s got the concierge performing prisoner guard duties now? ‘Clive, it’s not your job to do this,’ I point out. ‘Please, let go of my arm.’

‘Well, I did say as much myself, but Mr Ward can be very insistent.’

‘How much, Clive?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ he says quickly, re-arranging his hat with his spare hand. He couldn’t look guiltier if he tried.