This Man Confessed(70)

I sink into my seat, wondering what people might think. Shotgun, that’s what. A rush job because he’s knocked me up. My contentment waivers. And what about my parents and Dan?





John pulls up at The Manor, and I waste no time jumping down from his Range Rover and making my way up the steps.

“He’s in his office,” John calls.

“Thanks, John.” I head straight for the back of The Manor, passing through the summer room and smiling to myself at the sudden silence that falls. I cast my eyes across the gathering of women, all with drinks in their hands and all with sour faces. “Evening.” I smile brightly and receive a chorus of mumbles in return for my trouble. My smile widens at the thought of those faces souring further when they learn of my pregnancy.

As I approach Jesse’s office, the door opens and a man exits, looking tense but relieved all at once. It’s Steve. He looks different, fully clothed and without a whip in his grasp. I halt dead in my tracks, completely shocked, mainly because he’s in one piece. “Hi,” I stammer, the surprise clear in my tone.

His eyes lift and he smiles, a little embarrassed. “Ava.”

I’m staring at him, and I realize it’s rude, but I’m not sure what to say. There are no bruises or black eyes; he’s not limping and he doesn’t look like he’s just been offered burial or cremation. “How are you?” I ask, when my brain fails to give me anything better to say.

“I’m good.” He slips his hands into his jacket pockets, looking no less uncomfortable. “You?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” This is so awkward. The last time I saw him, he had me trussed up and was whipping the crap out of me. He was cocky and smarmy, but there is no trace of that man now. “You’ve been to see Jesse?”

“I have.” He laughs. “I’ve avoided it for long enough. I needed to apologize.”

“Oh.” My brain is failing me. He looks sincere enough, but if I was a man and I had Jesse vying for my blood, I think I would face the shame of groveling, too.

“I should apologize to you, too.” He stammers through his words. “Yeah…urm…I’m…I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. I’m the one who’s embarrassed now. I asked him to whip me. It’s me who should be feeling remorseful for setting him up for certain annihilation. “Steve, I shouldn’t have asked you. It was wrong of me.”

“No.” He smiles, but this time it’s a sweet offering. “I’d been walking a fine line for too long, getting carried away, losing respect for the women trusting me. You actually did me a favor, but, of course, I wish I’d never hurt you.”

I smile back. “I’ll accept yours, if you accept mine.”

He pulls his car keys from his pocket and starts to pass me. “Accepted. I’ll see you.”

“See you,” I call, watching his back disappear down the corridor.

I push through Jesse’s office door and find him on his knees in the middle of the floor, my mind suddenly awash with painful memories. But he’s fully dressed in his suit and there are piles and piles of paperwork spread on the floor in front of him. He looks up, and my heart constricts at the exasperated look on his beautiful face.

“Hey.” I shut the door behind me, and his look changes from mentally exhausted to contented in a split second.

“Here’s my beautiful girl.” He sits on his arse, knees bent and with his feet flat on the floor, opening his arms. “Come here. I need you.”

I walk slowly over. “Need me, or need me to sort all of this out for you?”

He pouts and waves him arms impatiently. “Both.”

I sit myself between his thighs and shuffle back until my back is pressed to his front. His arms wrap around my shoulders and his nose goes straight into my hair, taking a long, loud inhale. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“Good, I don’t like seeing you poorly.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been underhanded and knocked me up,” I retort dryly, earning myself a nudge of his leg. “I saw Steve leaving.”

“Hmm,” he hums in my ear, nibbling at my lobe.

“Did you offer burial or cremation?” I grin to myself when I’m nudged again.

“I offered him an olive branch, actually. Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.”

I’m pretty speechless. I would’ve put my life on the imminent demise of the poor Steve. “What’s made you so reasonable?”

“I’m always reasonable. It is you, beautiful girl, who’s the unreasonable one.”

I don’t bother challenging him. I don’t even bother scoffing or laughing, but his little comment has just reminded me of something. “What’s so reasonable about having my car stolen? And how did you manage it without any key?”