We walk along, side by side, until we hit Piccadilly. I don’t know where we’re going, but I keep up with him. He makes no attempt to take my hand and he doesn’t speak. I’m getting more apprehensive by the second. I glance up at him and find his face is completely straight and he doesn’t return my gaze, although I know he knows that I’m looking at him.
‘Excuse me, have you got the time?’ A mature business woman asks Jesse.
He takes his hand from his pocket and looks at his watch. I wince at the sight of the marks on his wrist. His hand is still bruised from the beating he gave his car, and I’ve added to it. ‘It’s ten fifteen.’ He flashes his smile, reserved only for woman, and she pools on the pavement in front of him.
I’m spiked with immense possessiveness as she gushes a thank you. She is probably more Jesse’s age than me, the brazen hussy. You can’t possibly tell me that she doesn’t have a phone she could check. Everyone has a bloody phone these days, and why didn’t she ask that middle aged, overweight, balding, sweaty type in front of us? I roll my eyes as I wait for Jesse to take the initiative and lead on.
After he’s spent a few moments blasting the woman with his knockout smile, ensuring she gets the full on experience, he carries on his way, me following. As I look back, I see the woman glancing over her shoulder. How desperate and unashamed can someone be? I laugh to myself. I’m that desperate when it comes to Jesse, and I’m also completely unashamed.
We cross the road and approach The Ritz, and I’m stunned when the door is opened for us. Jesse signals for me to enter. We’re having brunch at The Ritz?
I say nothing as he leads me to the restaurant and we’re seated in the most obscenely regal space. This isn’t Jesse at all, and it certainly isn’t me.
‘We’ll have the Eggs Benedict twice, both with smoked salmon, both on granary, a cappuccino, extra shot, no chocolate and a strong black coffee. Thank you.’ Jesse hands the menu to the waiter.
‘Certainly, Sir,’ He picks up my fancy, fabric napkin and lays it across my lap and repeats the same carefully executed move on Jesse before backing away from the table. I gaze around at the affluent surroundings which is full of well-bred, wealthy folk. I feel uncomfortable.
‘How is your day going?’ he asks casually, with no hint of any emotion in his tone. This just increases my unease further, the question dragging me back to his dark presence across the swanky table. He removes the napkin from his lap and places it on the table, his face expressionless as he regards me.
What the hell I should say. It’s not even ten thirty and I’m already having a pretty exclusive day. So far, I’ve found out how old he is, used a vibrator, handcuffed him to the bed and left him there, and now I’m having a late breakfast in The Ritz. It’s certainly not your usual daily happenings.
‘I’m not sure.’ I answer honestly, because I have a feeling there are going to be a few more exclusives I can add to that list.
His eyes lower so his super lashes fan his cheekbones. ‘Shall I tell you how my day is going?’ he asks.
‘If you like,’ I whisper. My voice is full of all the nervousness I really feel. I’m not even confident that he wouldn’t cause a scene in the most posh hotel in London in front of the most posh people in London.
He sits back in his chair and hammers me with his potent green gaze. ‘Well, my morning run was waylaid by a challenging little temptress, who handcuffed me to our bed and tortured me for information. She then abandoned me, leaving me helpless and in desperate need of her.’ He starts fiddling with the fork at his place setting, and I wilt under his stare. He takes a deep breath. ‘I eventually got hold of my phone that she left just…out…of…reach…’ He pinches his thumb and index finger together. ‘And then waited for a member of my staff to come and free me. 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 and wanting to bend her over this wonderfully dressed table and fuck her into next week.’
I gasp at his crass words, spoken with no concern in the middle of the Ritz restaurant. Oh God, what must Big John think of me? I hope he laughed. He seems to find Jesse’s reactions and behaviour towards me quite amusing.
The waiter places our coffees down and we both nod a thank you before he backs away again.
I pick up my fancy – probably solid – silver spoon and start slowly stirring my coffee. ‘You have had quite an action packed morning.’ I say quietly. Of all the things I could have said? I glance up nervously and find him fighting a grin from his face. It makes me feel so much better. He wants to laugh, but he wants to be angry with me too.
He sighs. ‘Ava, don’t ever do that to me again.’
I disintegrate on my yellow throne. ‘You were crazy mad.’ I breathe on a long, relieved exhale.
‘I was way, way past crazy mad, Ava.’ He reaches up and starts circling his temples, as if trying to rid himself of the memory.
‘Why?’
He pauses mid-rub. ‘Because I couldn’t get to you,’ He says it like I’m stupid. He must catch my look of confusion because he moves his fingers to his forehead and rests his elbows on the table. ‘The thought of not being able to reach you actually made me panic.’
What?
‘I was in the room!’ I blurt a bit too loudly. I take a quick glance around to make sure I’ve not drawn any attention from the posh clientele.
He scowls at me. ‘You weren’t in the room when you left!’
I lean across the table. ‘I left because you threatened me.’ This is most definitely not a conversation for the plushness of The Ritz.
‘Well, that’s because you made me crazy mad.’ He widens his eyes at me. ‘When did you get those handcuffs?’ he asks accusingly as his palms hit the table, the bang silencing the other diners surrounding us.
I sit back in my throne and wait for them to continue with their conversation. ‘When I left work yesterday. You kind of pissed all over my plan with your retribution fuck.’ I grumble moodily.
‘Watch your mouth. I pissed on your plan?’ he asks incredulously. ‘Ava, let me tell you, nowhere in my plan was it written that you would have me restrained and at your mercy. So, it is you who pissed all over my plan.’
We both cease all speaking of plans, retribution fucks and handcuffs when the waiter approaches with our food. He places it in front of me first and then Jesse, swiveling the plates around so the presentation – which looks more like art – is at its best position for us to admire before we attack it with our knife and fork. I smile my thanks.
‘Is that all, Sir?’ The waiter asks Jesse.
‘Yes, thank you.’
The waiter removes himself from the table and leaves us to resume our inappropriate conversation.
I sink my knife into my dish. It looks too good to eat. ‘You should know your temptress is extremely pleased with herself.’ I say thoughtfully as I wrap my lips around the most delicious piece of granary toast, topped with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce.
‘I bet she is.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘Does she know how crazy in love with her I am?’
I melt on a sigh. I’m in The Ritz, eating the most incredible food and I’m looking across the table at the most devastatingly handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on – my devastatingly handsome man. All mine. I am back to basking in the sun on Central Jesse Cloud Nine. ‘I think she does.’ I confirm.
He turns his attention back to his dish. ‘She had better not just think.’ he says sternly.
‘She knows.’
‘Good.’
‘What’s the problem, anyway?’ I ask. ‘Thirty seven is nothing.’
His eyes flick to mine. He looks almost embarrassed. ‘I don’t know. You’re in your mid-twenties and I’m in my mid to late-thirties.’
‘So?’ I watch him closely. He really does have a complex about his age. ‘It bothers you more than it does me.’
‘Maybe.’ He fights a smile from his lips. I can see he is relieved at my lack of concern. I shake my head, returning to my dish. My arrogant playboy has an insecurity, but I love him all the more for it.
We eat in a comfortable silence, the waiter checking if everything is to our satisfaction at regular intervals. How could it not be? When we’re done, he clears our plates swiftly and Jesse asks for the bill.
‘So, when are we going dress shopping then?’ he asks before taking a sip of his coffee.
I let out an exasperated breath. I’d forgot about that. I know if I defy him on this, I’ll be promptly ejected from Central Jesse Cloud Nine. I shrug. ‘You don’t have to come.’ I can shoot to House of Fraser anytime on my travels.
‘I want to come and anyway, I owe you a dress, remember?’ He smirks, and I’m swiftly reminded of the dress massacre. He only wants to come so he can make an appropriate selection, and that means I’ll probably be wearing ski pants and a roll neck jumper.
‘Friday lunch?’ I try, failing miserably to sound upbeat.
His frown line jumps into position. ‘That’s cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it?’