This Man(183)

‘No, no, no. I clean. The communal room is closed for cleaning.’ She shoos us back towards the door.

‘Chill out, Senorita,’ Kate laughs. ‘Her boyfriend owns the place.’

The poor woman recoils at Kate’s harshness, giving me the once over before bowing. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She shoves her spray in her apron and clasps my hands in her tanned wrinkled fingers. ‘Mr Ward, he not say you come.’

I fidget uncomfortably on the spot at the woman’s panic, throwing Kate a disgusted look, but she doesn’t notice. She’s too busy looking around at the colossal room we’re stood in. I smile reassuringly at the Spanish cleaner, who’s got herself in a bit of a pickle over my presence.

‘It’s fine, really.’ I assure her. She bows again, moving off to the side, leaving Kate and me to try and comprehend our surroundings.

I gaze around, and the first thing that strikes me is how beautiful the room is. Just like the rest of the house, this room has been lavished with beautiful materials and furniture. The space is huge, easily spanning half of the entire buildings floor area, and as I look around, I realise it backs onto its self, circling around the stairwell. We’ve entered the centre of the room, so it’s even bigger than I originally thought. The ceiling is high and vaulted, with wooden beams stretching from end to end and over-elaborate, gold chandeliers hanging between them, offering a hazy glow of light. The room is dominated by three arched, Georgian sash windows, dressed in crimson, with Austrian blinds edged in gold jute braid. Miles and miles of gold silk, piped in crimson braid, is softly gathered and held in place at the sides by simple gold ombres. The deep red walls provide a dramatic backdrop for elaborately dressed beds that are positioned around the room.

Beds?

‘Ava, something tells me this isn’t a function room.’ Kate whispers.

She starts to wander off to the right, while I remain frozen in place, trying to grasp what I’m looking at. It’s an immense, super luxurious, communal bedroom – The Communal Room.

The walls are free from paintings, allowing space for various gold metal frames, hooks and hoists. They all look innocent enough, like extravagant wall hangings, but as my mind starts to recover from its shocked state, the significance of the room and its contents start to filter into my brain. A million reasons try to distract me from the conclusion I’m slowly drawing, but there is no other explanation for the devices and contraptions surrounding me.

The delayed reaction finally crashes down. ‘Fucking hell,’ I whisper to myself.

‘Watch your mouth.’ His soft voice rolls over me.

I fly around and find him stood behind me, watching quietly, his hands in his jean pockets, his face completely expressionless. My tongue is like lead in my mouth as I search my brain for something to say. What can I say? My head is invaded with a million memories of the last few weeks. All of the times I’ve brushed things off, ignored things or, more to the point, been distracted from things. Things he’s said, things other people have said – things I thought odd, but didn’t pursue because I was distracted by him. He’s been distracting me this whole time. He’s been going out of his way to keep all of this from me. What else is he keeping from me?

Kate appears in my peripheral vision. I don’t have to look at her to know she’s probably displaying a similar facial expression to me, but I can’t drag my eyes away from Jesse to be sure.

He flicks his gaze in Kate’s direction, smiling at her nervously.

Sam barges into the room. ‘Oh, fucking hell! I thought I told you to stay put!’ he shouts, fixing Kate with a furious glare. ‘Damn you, woman!’

‘I think we need to go.’ Kate says quietly, walking towards Sam and taking his hand to lead him out of the room.

‘Thank you.’ Jesse nods at them before returning his eyes to me. His shoulders are slightly raised, signaling his tenseness. He looks really worried. He should be.

I hear the hushed, angry whispers of Kate and Sam as they take the stairs, leaving us alone in the communal room.

The communal room. It all makes sense now. That crucifix downstairs is no wall art. The strange grid-like contraption in the suite was no antique. The women sauntering around the place like they live here are not business women. Well, they might be, but not while they’re here.

Oh God, help me.

I watch as Jesse teeth start a good work out on his bottom lip. My strained heartbeats are quickening by the second. This certainly explains the thoughtful moments he’s been drifting in and out of over the last few days. He must have known I would find out? Was he ever going to tell me?