I pull my arm free from Clive’s grasp and walk over to the concierge desk. ‘Where do you keep Mr Ward’s numbers?’ I ask, scanning the hi-tech display screens in front of me. I notice Clive’s mobile sat on the desk too.
Clive walks over with a befuddled look on his face. ‘It’s all linked to the phone through the system. Why do you ask?’
‘Do you have Mr Ward’s number on your mobile?’ I ask.
‘No Ava, It’s all pre-programmed into the system. Resident’s confidentiality and all.
‘Good.’ I yank out the wires leading from the phone system to the computer and drop them in a tangled mess to the floor where they meet Clive’s jaw.
I hear the poor old boy’s shocked mumbling on my way out and feel a small pang of guilt. That will be yet another repair bill falling on the doormat of the penthouse.
I jump in my car and instantly notice a little black device on the dashboard. I know what that is. I press the button and, like I knew they would, the gates to Lusso start opening.
The whole way to The Manor, I pray repeatedly that I’m not going to find Jesse with a drink in his hand. This will be the first time I’ve been back since my discovery of its offered activities, but my need to see Jesse is overriding any nerves or reluctance I have.
Chapter 15
I pull up to the gates and press the intercom. John’s gruff rumble comes over the speaker and I wave at the camera, but the gates are already opening. I start the long drive up the gravel driveway towards The Manor and as I pull up into the circle courtyard, I look up at the limestone house, looming centrally and seemingly screaming out loud what goes on behind those doors.
I pull in next to Jesse’s car and quickly check my face in the rear view mirror. Considering the events of the last few hours, the last few weeks actually, I don’t look too bad.
John opens the door before I reach it and offers me a small, reassuring smile. It goes nowhere near making me feel any better.
We walk into the imposing entrance hall together and past the stairs, restaurant and bar. I hear chatter and laughter, but I don’t bother looking. I’ve seen it all before, except now I know why they’re all here.
‘Has he calmed down?’ I ask as we reach the summer room. There are people scattered around the seating areas, drinking and talking, probably discussing what the evening could have in store for each of them. I’m assaulted by a dozen inquisitive stares, and I tense all over. Did they see Jesse raging?
‘Damn, girl, you affect that mother fucker.’ John laughs to himself, giving me a glimpse of that illusive gold tooth.
I let out a rush of breath in agreement, but he affects me too. Does John realise that? ‘My man is challenging.’ I muse.
John looks over at me and flashes one of his knock out, rare, all white and gold teeth smiles. ‘Challenging? That’s a word. I call him a fucking pain in the arse. I’ve got to admire his determination, though.’
‘Determination?’ I feel my brow knit. ‘Determination to be challenging?’ I quip.
John stops as we reach Jesse’s office. ‘I’ve never seen him so determined to live.’
I suddenly want to go back to the beginning of our walk to Jesse’s office so we can continue with this conversation. ‘What do you mean by that?’ I can’t help the confusion in my tone. That little statement has me really very confused. I can’t see any determination to live. All I see is determination to give himself a seizure with stress. He’s self-destructible.
My breath hitches in my throat.
He’s self-destructible. Jesse has said that before – when he took me on his bike, he said that. What did he mean?
‘Trust me, it’s a good thing.’ John looks at me affectionately. ‘Be easy on him.’
‘How long have you known him, John?’ I want to keep him talking.
‘Long enough, girl. I’ll leave you to it.’ He takes his mountain of a body and strides off down the corridor.
‘Thanks, John.’ I say to his back.
‘S’all good, girl. S’all good.’
I stand outside Jesse’s office with my hand hovering over the doorknob. John’s unexpected and volunteered information, albeit vague, has pricked my curiosity more. Was he really self-destructible? My mind is racing with thoughts of alcohol, dabbling, lack of leathers and scars. I turn the handle and walk, with caution, into Jesse’s office.
I’m immediately insulted by what I see. Jesse is sat in his big office chair facing Sarah, who is perched on the corner of his desk. The woman is a leech. A thud of possessiveness slaps me in the face, but it’s the bottle of vodka sat on Jesse’s desk that has me more fretful. I can fight off unwanted female attention, as long as it’s unwanted. The vodka is another matter entirely.
They look up at me in unison, and she flashes me a fake, insincere smile. Then I notice a bag of ice resting on Jesse’s hand. I was right to have a touch of the green eyed monster. They look, in Jesse’s words, very cosy.
Now there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these two have had a sexual relationship. It’s written all over her face. I feel sick, jealous and dangerously possessive.
The brazen interloper makes no attempt to shift her toned arse off Jesse’s desk. She just sits there, relishing in the obvious tension her presence is causing, but it’s the impostor in clear bottle form that I’m more threatened by. I can deal with her. I’m in no mood for silly games with ex-sexual conquests.
I look at Jesse, and he meets my gaze. He’s still in his charcoal trousers, but the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up. His dirty blonde hair is a glorious mess on top of his beautiful head, but despite him in all of his loveliness, he looks fearful and uneasy. I don’t blame him. I’ve just walked in on him looking cosy with another woman and with a bottle of the evil stuff in front of him. It’s my worst nightmares wrapped into one.
He slowly turns his chair with his feet, away from the interloper and towards me.
‘Have you had a drink?’ My voice is even and strong. I feel anything but.
He shakes his head. ‘No.’ he answers in a quiet voice.
I’m uncertain whether his voice is small because of the woman or because of the vodka. He drops his head slightly, and the silence is awkward, but then Sarah rests a hand on Jesse’s arm and I want to dive on the desk and yank her hair out. Jesse flinches and snaps his eyes to mine.
Who the fuck does she think she is? I’m not naive enough to believe that she is trying to be a supportive friend. ‘Do you mind?’ I look directly at her so there’s no mistaking who I’m talking to.
She looks up at me questioningly, but makes no attempt to remove her hand from Jesse. I’m suddenly furious with myself for allowing another woman the opportunity to comfort him, especially this woman. That’s my job. Jesse pulls his arm away and her hand falls to the desk.
‘Excuse me?’ she splutters, which only serves to fuck me off more.
‘You heard me.’ I flash her a don’t-fuck-with-me glare and she smirks an almost undetectable smirk. She knows that I know her game. That should make our relationship a lot easier.
Jesse flicks his eyes nervously between the two women having a stand-off in his office. God bless him, he’s keeping his mouth firmly shut, but then the cheeky bitch only leans down and kisses him on the cheek, letting her lips linger there for longer than is really necessary.
‘Call me if you need me, sweetie.’ she says in the most ridiculous seductive voice I’ve ever heard.
Jesse stiffens from head to toe and looks at me, all wide eyed and with an alarmed look plastered all over his handsome face. He’s right to be anxious, especially after the barrel of shit he’s just thrown at me because of a male client and an ex-boyfriend. Matt and Mikael would be a mass of body parts if the boot was on the other foot.
I grab his office door and open it wide before fixing my eyes on the blonde, larger than life tramp. ‘Goodbye, Sarah.’ I say with optimum finality.
She looks at me with a cocky, self-assured, pouty face and slides off Jesse’s desk, sauntering across his office at a leisurely pace while giving me the eyeball. I hold her cocky face with my own take no prisoners’ stare, all the way to the door that I’m holding open for her. As soon as her six inch platform heels are over the threshold, I slam it behind her and silently hope it collided with her toned arse.
Now, let’s deal with my challenging man. I’m suddenly filled with determination to sort this shit out. Seeing him sat there with Sarah has made something perfectly clear to me.
He’s mine…end of.
I turn to face him. He hasn’t moved from his chair, the bottle of vodka is still sat in the middle of his desk like the proverbial pink elephant that it is and he’s chewing his bloody lip, cogs steaming.
I nod at it. ‘Why is that there?’ I ask assertively.
‘I don’t know.’ he replies. His face is tortured and it kills me to be on the other side of the room from him.
‘Do you want to drink it?’
‘Not now you’re here.’ His quiet words register loud and clear.
‘You walked out on me.’ I remind him.
‘I know.’
‘What if I hadn’t of come?’ That’s the operative question here. I’m re-visiting the same thing over and over in my mind. He behaves like this is a piece of pie, constantly reassuring me that he doesn’t need a drink as long as he has me, but now I find him keeping company with a bottle of vodka because we’ve had words. Okay, it was more than words, but that’s not the point. I can’t worry like this every time we quarrel. It doesn’t escape my notice that the vodka wasn’t the only thing he was keeping company with.