He leads me out into the sunshine, where Tessa is directing people into various positions, but my mother is quickly repositioning bodies as we approach. I look across and see Kate being ravished by Sam, my eyes instantly darting toward Dan and finding what I knew I would. A filthy look. Is she doing this on purpose?
I look up at Jesse. “Please, just do what you’re told.” The more he plays up, the longer this will take and the more stressed my mum will get.
“If you promise me quiet time after.”
“I promise you quiet time,” I say on a laugh.
“Good. I hate sharing you,” he grumbles, and I smile. I know he does.
Jesse spends the next hour cooperating completely. He moves when asked, smiles when requested, and even releases me from the cuffs without complaint when I have some shots on my own. On the final click, I’m swiftly scooped up and carried back to The Manor.
It’s not long before we’re alone in one of The Manor’s suites—the suite where he cornered me and tried to seduce me, the suite where I got myself ready for our wedding. The door closes softly behind us, and I’m led to the grand, satin-adorned bed. He lifts me and crawls up the bed, settling me beneath him.
Now I’ve got a set of lustful greens gazing down at me. “Quiet time,” he whispers, dropping a soft kiss on my lips before his face burrows straight into my neck.
“You want to snuggle?” I ask, a little surprised.
“I do.” He nuzzles further. “I want to snuggle with my wife. Are you going to deny me?”
“No.”
“Good. Our marriage is getting off to the best start, then.”
So I let him snuggle. I absorb his weight, his smell, and his heart beating against my chest. I like quiet time, but as I gaze up at the high ceiling, my mind naturally wanders to the thoughts that have been lingering for weeks—the thoughts that I have tried my hardest to bat away. Impossible. The perfection of this moment, of our love for each other, is clouded by the reality of the challenges ahead.
There has been no contact from Mikael, so I assume he is still in Denmark. I’ve been spared that challenge for now. There’s been no sight of Coral, either, and Sarah has been kicked out on her arse after admitting to everything I absolutely knew she did. I’ve not heard from Matt, so he’s definitely got the message, but I’m still far too curious about his knowledge of Jesse’s drinking issue. And then there’s my period, which is due on Monday. I’ve never wished so hard for something.
Jesse would love to have me nailed to his side—he’s made that clear—and perhaps he thinks a baby would achieve that. He would see it as the perfect excuse for me to give up work, something else he would like to happen. But I love my job. I love spending my days designing and interacting with clients. I’ll battle with him on this…if I’m not pregnant. I’ve no idea what I’ll do if I am. I’ve been making him wear condoms for two weeks, and he’s demonstrated his disgust, but if I’m not pregnant, then I want it to stay that way.
“Will you do something for me?” I ask quietly.
“Anything.” His hot breath on my neck has my face turning into him, encouraging him to look at me. His head lifts from its hiding place, his hair now a disheveled mess, his greens finding my eyes. “What do you want, baby?”
“Can you please resist talking to Patrick about Mikael?” I brace myself for his scoff. I’ve managed to keep him from my boss, but with Patrick and Irene arriving later for the evening reception, I’m not sure Jesse can hold himself back.
“I agreed not to visit Patrick if you spoke with him. And I don’t believe you have.” He raises expectant eyebrows at me.
No, I haven’t, because I have no idea how to approach this. He was shocked enough to hear I was marrying one of my clients. I could hardly hit him with the news that I’m about to jump ship on Rococo union ’s most important client, the client who guarantees Patrick’s comfortable retirement.
“Give me until Monday,” I plead. “I’ll talk to him on Monday.”
“Monday,” he affirms, his eyes slightly narrowed. “I mean it, Ava. You’ve got till Monday, and then I’m stepping in.”
“Okay.”
He grunts a little, and then buries himself back in my neck. “When do I get to take you away?”
“I did warn you there would be no honeymoon for a while. You accepted that, remember?”
He lifts his head and points a scowl at me. “So when am I going to get my wife to myself? When am I going to be able to love her?”
“You always love me. When I’m not working, I’m with you. And you text and call me often enough, so I’m technically connected to you all day, anyway.” I need to approach this issue, too. He’s relentless.