Beneath This Man (This Man Trilogy)(91)

He pulls a grey t-shirt over his head and makes his way back into the bathroom while I stand in the middle of the room, wondering what the hell to do. I follow him again and find him brushing his teeth. His eyes flick to mine in the mirror. I feel anxious…uncomfortable.

‘Please speak to me.’ I plead. I can’t stand this.

He finishes brushing his teeth and splashes his face with water, before bracing himself on the edge of the vanity unit and taking a few deep breaths. I prepare myself for the storm, but it doesn’t come. He walks straight past me and into the bedroom.

I follow like a desperate soul. ‘Where are you going?’ I ask his back, as he makes his way to the door.

He stops and it’s a few moments before he turns dark, troubled eyes on me. ‘I need to sort some things out at The Manor.’ His voice is devoid of any emotion where as I’m close to wailing. I’m petrified.

‘I thought we were doing something this evening.’ I remind him desperately.

‘Something came up.’ he mutters and turns to leave. That something is, without a doubt, me. He’s going to drink.

‘You’re mad with me.’ I cry frantically. I don’t want him to go. He would usually insist on me going and I would fight him on it, but now I want to go with him.

He shakes his head and lets it fall slightly, but he doesn’t face me. I need to see his face. He walks out of the bedroom and I collapse to the floor and cry. I feel helpless and incomplete. All of this pain because I wanted to have the final say, all of this because I insisted on going out and proving a point. The only point I’ve proved is that I’m at a loss without him.

I drag myself up and across the room, collapsing onto the bed and finding my way to the place that smells the most of him. It’s a meager substitute for the real thing. Only he can make this better, make all of this go away. And worst of all, I know where he has gone, who will be there and what he’ll be doing. What am I supposed to do? I’m a mess, my face feels swollen and stingy with tears and my head hurts from too many disturbing thoughts. Will he crack open a bottle of vodka? I know that if he does, I won’t be seeing him anytime soon – not when he’s like that. I would rather not have him at all than have the hollow beast that is Jesse with a few bottles of vodka inside him. I never want to see that man again.

I sit up on the bed, suddenly remembering something. He’s not here, and I am…and I’m alone. I jump up and run into the bathroom, flinging open the cosmetics unit and staring at the masses of bottles, boxes and tubes. Starting my search, I shift the contents of the unit to the side, my shaking hands doing me no favours in executing the operation without knocking bottles over. A frustrated yell slips from my mouth, and in a temper, I sweep my hand through all of the shelves, knocking bottles flying all over the bathroom floor.

What am I thinking? He’s not stupid enough to hide them in such an obvious place. I leave the bathroom and run into the wardrobe, shoving my hands into every pocket of his suit jackets, inside and out, tipping his shoes upside down and searching through piles of neatly folded t-shirts. Nothing, but I’m not giving up. My pills are mysteriously disappearing and they have been since I met this man, and the first time was only a few days after I relented to his advances. What’s he playing at? He can’t want to get me pregnant, surely? If he does, he may very well get his way too. I can’t believe this.

I drop myself to the floor of the wardrobe, wiping my still streaming tears away. Is he trying to trap me? I proceed to hunt through his jean pockets, tossing them all over the wardrobe in a frenzy when I find nothing. The gold satin gift bag slips out as I yank a suit jacket down from a hanger, the contents spilling onto the floor.

Condoms.

We don’t need those.

He is trying to get me pregnant. Fucking hell!

I scramble up and fly down the stairs into his office, pulling out every drawer, sifting through rows of books and even looking behind the sodding pictures on the walls. Still nothing.

I fly around the penthouse like a madwoman, searching every drawer, cupboard, anywhere he could possibly hide them, but an hour later, still no pills. But I’ve made a massive mess. I halt when I hear my phone ringing in the distance and I track the sound until it cuts off and I’m stood in the massive open space, looking around desperately.

‘Fuck!’ I curse to myself, but then the text message tone starts bleeping and I follow it to the armchair where I found Jesse sitting earlier. I grope down the side and find my phone. The missed call is from my Mum. Oh God, has Dan been on to her already? I really cannot be talking to her now, a really uncharitable thought, but I don’t even know where I am myself to be able to tell her. My heart sinks when I see the text is from John.



He’s fine, but you should probably come.



My heart lifts a little at the first part of the message, and then sinks just as quickly. I should probably go? Is John playing tug of war with Jesse and a bottle of vodka? I fly up the stairs and run into the bathroom to scrub my face and attempt to generally sort myself out. It’s no good, I look like I’ve been wailing and no amount of make-up or washing will sort my glazed eyes out. After retrieving my keys, I make a hasty run for my car, ignoring Clive as he calls after me.





Chapter 30




The drive to The Manor is a blur of visions and memories. Visions of Jesse staggering and slurring, and memories of finding him unconscious on the terrace, all unwelcome, but a repeat performance highly likely. I can’t go through that again. I can’t watch him do that to himself again – not because of me. I might not be able to control his unreasonableness, but I can prevent him from slowly killing himself.

I’m not surprised when I pull up to the gates and they open immediately. John must be looking out for me. My descent up the driveway is fast and frantic in my desperation to get to him and stop the inevitable. I find The Manor’s door open and run through the entrance hall, ignoring the noise coming from the bar and restaurant. The summer room has been returned to its former relaxing space of sofas and chairs scattered across the vast area, members gathered, chatting and drinking. Silence falls, all conversation halting, when I run through. I’m sure if I paid attention, there would be many vicious, scowling faces pointed straight at me, but I don’t have the time or inclination to stop and soak up the resentment. I don’t need to look. I can feel it heavy in the air.

As I approach the door to Jesse’s office, I hear a thundering crack that makes me jump. What the fuck was that? I hold the door handle and look behind me, but find the corridor empty. I turn the handle of the door and push it open.

‘Ava!’ Big John’s loud rumble travels down the corridor, halting my progression, but I can’t see him. ‘Fucking, mother fucker! Ava, wait!’ He appears, moving faster than I would think possible for such a mountain of a man, his glasses in place as he hurdles towards me like a steam train. ‘Jesus, woman, don’t go in there!’

I look at the frantic beast rocketing towards me in slow motion and jump at the sound of another ear piercing snap. It pulls my attention from John’s booming voice and towards Jesse’s office. What is that? I push the door open a little further until the full room comes into view.

Oh Jesus Christ!

I stagger forward on a loss of a few dozen beats of my heart. What the fucking hell is going on?

‘No!’ John crashes into me and grasps me around my waist. ‘Ava, girl, you can’t go in there.’

I lose all feeling as I stare at the hideousness before me and then fight with the incredible strength of John, who’s trying to haul me out of the room. I don’t know how, adrenaline perhaps, but I break free from John and fall into the room as Sarah raises the evil looking whip that she’s holding and brings it thrashing down on Jesse’s back. My stomach jumps into my throat, and I feel John’s warm palm wrap around the top of my arm.

‘Ava, darling,’ John’s voice is the softest I’ve ever heard it. ‘You don’t need to see this.’

I shrug him off and stand trying to piece together the scene unfolding before me. It’s hard, even though time has slowed and every tiny detail is perfectly clear to me. He’s naked, except for his jeans, and kneeling on the floor, his head dropped limply. He hasn’t even looked up. Sarah is standing behind him, kitted out in black leather trousers, a leather bodice and a thigh high leather boots, looking as evil as the whip in her hand.

I can’t move. I’m completely rooted to the spot. My legs are shaking, my heart beating so fast it might escape my chest, and I can’t open my mouth. What is happening?

Sarah glances up at me, a look of deep satisfaction on her face as she slowly raises the whip again. I want to scream, tell her to stop, but my mouth is dry and not responding to my brains commands. Her pouty face screams pleasure at subjecting Jesse to this wicked torture and, no doubt, having me here to bear witness to it.

She brings the whip crashing down on Jesse’s bare flesh again, and he arches his back, throwing his head back, but he doesn’t make a sound.

The loud scream echoing around the room is me.

His head snaps up as my cry seeps into his ears. I’m struggling against John again, who has regained his hold on me. ‘Let go of me!’ I fight harder, twisting my body in his grip, clawing and hitting him.