This Man (41 page)

‘Yeah,’ He glances down at his phone.

‘It’s ten to two, mate.’

Jesse doesn’t thank him. Instead, he releases my hand, throws his arms around my shoulder and pulls me into his side, placing his lips gently on my temple. I look up at him, shaking my head in dismay. He’s trampling. His upper body is puffing, and short of banging his fist on his chest, he may as well be pissing up the side of my leg.

James watches, all wide eyed, as Jesse leads us away from him. I’m completely speechless. He’s just made reference to our relationship as little more than fucking, and now he’s marking his territory. I’m so confused by all of this. If I had the courage, I would just come outright and ask him.

Why can’t I do that? I know why. I’m worried about what he might say. These shallow waters are becoming trickier to navigate the more time I spend with this man.

As we near my office, he stops and gently presses me up against the wall with his body. He lowers his face to mine, his hot, minty breath warming my cheeks.

‘Why would you not want your ex to know you’re fucking another man?’

There we are. Fucking! ‘No reason, it’s just not necessary.’ I say quietly.

He reaches up, grasping my wrist to pull my hand down from my hair. ‘Now, tell me the truth.’ he demands softly.

How has he picked up on my bad habit so quickly? I’ve known my Mum, Dad and my brother all of my life, and Kate since secondary school. They’ve earned the right to this knowledge.

‘Answer me, Ava.’

‘He asked me to get back together with him.’ I drop my eyes. I can’t look at him.

Not that I should care. After all, I’m only fucking him.

‘When?’ He grinds the words through clenched teeth.

‘It was weeks ago.’ I feel his hand tighten around my wrist as my muscles flex to raise my fingers to my hair. I’m so bad at lying.

He tips my chin up with his free hand so I’m forced to look at him. I’m not at all comfortable with the blackness burning in his eyes. ‘When?’

‘Last Tuesday.’ I whisper.

His eyes narrow as he starts chomping on his bottom lip. What’s he thinking? ‘He was your something important that came up, wasn’t he?’

Oh…dear.
He’s going to go spare. I watch as his chest puffs in and out, slowly and controlled. I’m not frightened – I know he won’t hurt me. I’ve seen his reaction and subsequent prevention methods to a few bruises on my arse, but he’s just so intense in his reactions and approaches.

‘Yes.’ I admit quietly. I physically feel the ice air emanate from him at my answer.

‘I need to get back to work.’ I add. I need to remove myself from this situation.

His sludgy eyes bore into me. ‘You won’t see him again.’ It’s another demand.

This lunch hour has been a massive eye opener. He wants complete control of me, and I get absolutely no say in it – none at all. Is this what I want? My head is a riot of mixed feelings and doubts. Why did I have to go and fall in love with the ultimate, unreasonable, challenging control freak?

I wait patiently for him to release me from his grasp. I have no idea what to say.

Is he waiting for my confirmation to his demand? Should I give it? I’m not likely to see Matt again, not after his performance, but should I have to give my word to a man that I’m, apparently, fucking?

He watches me carefully for a considerable amount of time before his forehead meets mine and his lips move up, pressing against my brow. ‘Go to work, Ava.’ He steps back. I don’t hang about. I leave him on the pavement and walk back to my office as fast as my shaky legs will carry me.

Pushing my way through the office door, I’m met by Tom and Victoria’s inquisitive faces. I must look as terrible as I feel. I hope they don’t start asking questions about Mr Ward, or about anything, actually. I think I’ll fall apart. I shake my head at them both as I make my way to my desk.

Sally walks out of the kitchen with a tray full of coffees. ‘Ava, I didn’t realise you were back. Do you want a tea or coffee?’

I want to ask her if she has any wine stored away in the kitchen, but I refrain.

‘No, thank you, Sal.’ I murmur, earning me a what-the-hell-is-going-on look from Tom and Victoria.

I focus my full attention on my computer screen, trying to ignore the ache dwelling deep inside me. Jesse has some serious issues with control – or power, as he calls it. I can’t do this – I can’t expose myself to guaranteed heartbreak. That’s exactly where this is heading.

My mobile rings and I’m grateful for the distraction from my turmoil. It’s Mr Van Der Haus. Is he back? ‘Hello?’

His light Danish accent rolls down the telephone. ‘Hello, Ava. How did you find The Life Building? Ingrid has advised me your meeting went very well.’

He’s ringing from Denmark to ask me this? Could it not wait until he’s back?

‘Yes, very well.’ I don’t know what else to say.

‘I do hope that lovely little head of yours is swimming with ideas. I’m looking forward to meeting upon my return to the UK.’

He’s called me from Denmark. He’s referring to my head as pretty. Oh, please don’t bless me with another inappropriate client. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with the one I’ve got.

‘Yes, I got your email too. I’ll have some schemes ready for you.’ I’ve practically finished the mood boards and drawings. It just came to me all of a sudden – at a moment when my brain wasn’t consumed with a certain other client.

‘Excellent! I shall be back in London next Friday. Can we meet?’

‘Yes, of course. Any particular day?’

‘I will have Ingrid contact you. She arranges my diary.’

I pout to myself. How lovely to have one person dedicated to organising your life. I would benefit from one of those at the moment. ‘Okay, Mr Van Der Haus.’

I hear him tut. ‘Ava, please. It’s Mikael.

Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, Mikael.’ I hang up and sit at my desk, tapping my tooth with my fingernail. I really don’t know if he’s just being super friendly or
super friendly.
He took my decline to dinner pretty well, so am I reading too much into this? This is Jesse Wards fault, or do I have
easy
written on my forehead? I instinctively reach up and rub my head. Christ, I’m a mess.

I retrieve my drawings for The Life Building, spread them out on my desk, and grabbing my pencil, I start making notes. I hear the office door open in the background, but I don’t look up. I’m on a roll with additional ideas. It’s a welcome, and very needed, distraction.

‘Ava,’ Tom calls. ‘It’s someone for youhoo!’

I look up, nearly falling off my chair when I see Jesse stood, bold as brass, at the front of the office. Oh, good God, what is he doing?

He walks, with complete confidence, over to my desk – all godly in his faded jeans, white t-shirt and ruffled hair. I notice Tom and Victoria tapping their pens casually on their desks as they follow his path to me. Even Sall has paused mid-fax, looking slightly confused. He lands at the foot of my desk, my eyes travelling up his body to meet his green gaze, the semblance of a smug, satisfied smile tickling the corners of his mouth.

I’m not sure what to make of this. He left me, not half an hour ago, with shaky legs and a mind racing in confusion. The shakes have returned, except my whole body is trembling now, and my mind’s a disorder of chaos and uncertainty. What’s he trying to prove here?

‘Miss O’Shea.’ he says softly.

‘Mr Ward.’ I greet hesitantly. I look at him questioningly, but he’s giving nothing away. I glance across the office, spotting three pairs of eyes flicking towards me at regular intervals.

‘Aren’t you going to ask if I would like a seat?’

I snap my eyes back to Jesse. ‘Please,’ I indicate one of the black tub chairs on the other side of my desk. He pulls one out, lowering himself slowly into the chair.

‘What are you doing?’ I hiss, leaning across my desk.

He smiles that self-assured, melt-worthy smile. ‘I’m here to settle an invoice, Miss O’Shea.’

‘Oh,’ I lean back in my chair. ‘Sally?’ I call. ‘Can you deal with Mr Ward, please?

He would like to settle his outstanding account.’ I watch as Jesse shifts in his chair slightly, throwing me a critical look.

I’m not being defiant. It’s not my job to take payment; I wouldn’t know where to start.

‘Of course,’ Sally calls. I see realisation hit her. Yes! It’s the same man that screamed at you down the phone, bulldozed the office and sent you flowers.

Apparently, I drive him crazy! I throw her a don’t-ask-just-do look, prompting her to scuttle off towards the filing cabinet.

‘Sally will look after you, Mr Ward.’ I smile politely.

Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up, his frown line jumping into position. ‘Only you.’ he says softly, for my ears only. He makes no attempt to remove himself from my desk.

He just sits there – all casual and relaxed, regarding me closely as Sally farts around at the filing cabinet.

Hurry up!

I nearly snap my pencil when I hear the familiar thump of Patrick’s heavy feet from behind me. This day just keeps getting better and better.

‘Ava?’

Glancing nervously up, I see Patrick stood at the side at my desk, looking at me expectantly. I wave my pencil in the general direction of Jesse. ‘Patrick, this is Mr Ward. He owns The Manor. Mr Ward, meet Patrick Peterson, my boss.’ I throw Jesse a pleading look.

‘Ah, Mr Ward, I know your face.’

Patrick puts his hand out.

‘We met briefly at
Lusso
.’ Jesse says as he stands and clasps Patrick’s hand.

Did they?

I see the pound signs ping into Patrick’s delighted, pale blue eyes. ‘Yes, you brought the penthouse.’ he chirps joyfully.

Jesse nods his confirmation. I notice Patrick isn’t so worried about his outstanding bill now. Sally approaches with a copy of Jesse’s invoice and jumps a mile when Patrick snatches it from her dainty, pasty hand. ‘Have you offered Mr Ward a drink?’ he asks a stunned Sally.

‘I’m fine, thank you. I’ve just come to settle my account.’ Jesse’s husky tones reverberate through me as I sit, stuck like velcro to my chair, watching the polite exchange going on before me.

How can he be so calm and collective?

I’m sat here, tense from top to toe, twiddling my pencil nervously in my hand and keeping my mouth firmly shut. It must be obvious that I’m uncomfortable, but Patrick seems oblivious.

Patrick waves Sally away. ‘You shouldn’t have rushed in just for this.’ He flaps the outstanding invoice in the air.

I scoff, following it up with a cough to disguise

my

reaction

to

Patrick’s

casualness regarding the invoice he huffed about, only a few hours ago. He’s changed his tune.

‘I’ve been away. My staff overlooked it.’ Jesse explains. I release a thankful rush of air.

‘I knew there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Was it business or pleasure?’

Patrick

sounds

genuinely

interested. I know different. He’s mentally calculating how much money he might be able to make out of Jesse. He’s a dear man, but he’s mad about turnover.

Jesse turns his eyes on me. ‘Oh, definitely pleasure.’ he says categorically.

I shrink further into my swivel chair, feeling my face turning a thousand shades of red. I can’t even look him in the eye.

What is he trying to do to me?

‘I’d like to make some appointments with Miss O’Shea while I’m here. We need to get a quick turn around on this.’ he adds surely.

Ha! I very nearly remind him that he, supposedly, doesn’t make appointments to fuck me. But if I did that, I suspect I would firstly get the sack, and secondly, receive a sense fuck to rival all others. So, I keep my mouth firmly shut. Appointments? This man is impossible.

‘Absolutely,’ Patrick rumbles. ‘Are you looking for a design, or a design consultation and/or project manage?’

I roll my eyes. I know the answer to this question. After my perfectly exasperated eye roll is executed, I lift my eyes to Jesse and find him watching me, clearly struggling to maintain his serious face.

‘The whole package.’ he answers. What the hell does that mean?

‘Super!’ Patrick claps his hands together. ‘I’ll leave you with Ava. She’ll take good care of you.’ Patrick offers his hand and Jesse takes it, keeping his eyes right on me.

I’ve never been in a more difficult situation in my life. I’m sweating, fidgeting and sat so far back in my chair, I’m probably blending in with the leather.

‘I know she will,’ He smiles, turning his green pools back to Patrick. ‘If you give me your company bank details, I’ll arrange an immediate bank transfer. I’ll also make an advanced payment on the next stage. It will save any future delays.’

‘I’ll get Sally to note them down for you.’ Patrick leaves us, but I don’t relax.

Jesse sits back down in front of me, his irritatingly handsome face displaying an abundance of joy at my nervousness. The full package? Definitely pleasure? I should bash him around the head with my paper weight!

Dragging myself out of my dumbstruck state, I shift all of the drawings that are littering my desk and pull my diary over.

‘When are you free?’ I ask. I know I sound highly unprofessional and terse, but I don’t care. He’s taking his power trip too far now.

‘When are you?’

I look up, finding a green, satisfied stare. I lean in. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ I spit, rather immaturely.

‘What about screaming for me?’

My eyes widen in shock. ‘Neither.’

‘That may make business a little tricky.’

he pouts, his lips dancing at the corners.

‘Will it be business, Mr Ward, or pleasure?’

‘Pleasure, all the way.’ he answers darkly.

‘You do realise that you’re paying for me to have sex with you,’ I whisper on a hiss. ‘That, in effect, makes me a hooker!’

I watch as a flash of anger passes over his face and he shoots forward in his chair.

‘Shut up, Ava.’ he warns. ‘And just so you know, you will be screaming later,’ He leans back again. ‘When we make friends,’

I sigh heavily. It would be better, all-round, if I dropped this contract, right now.