Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
‘The car is this way.’ he shouts from behind me. I stop and carefully carry out an about turn before marching back in the other direction. There is little point in trying to get away. I’m tipsy, and he’s determined. ‘I don’t like your dress.’ I hear him snarl from behind me.
‘I do.’ I counter, walking on.
‘And why is that?’ He catches up with me. It’s not hard. I’m drunk and in heels.
I stop and swing to face him. ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t!’ I shout, drawing a little attention from passers-by.
‘You’re right!’ he yells back at me.
‘Good! Is that the only reason you’re pissed, or is it because I’m drunk, or is it because I kissed another man?’
‘All of the above but kissing another man gets the fucking gold!’ He’s shaking with anger.
‘You had your hand on another woman’s arse!’
‘I know!’ He glares at me, and I glare right back.
‘Why? Getting bored of keeping it for just one woman?’ I screech, and then tense, looking around to see who has heard my little outburst. I’m relieved to see our friends have all escaped the scene. I could have chosen to rebuke him on his possessiveness or jealousy but no, I pick his sexual history.
He narrows his dark green eyes on me, his lips forming a straight line. ‘You fucking asked for it, woman!’
‘Me? How?’
‘You left me! You promised you would never leave me!’
We stand opposite each other, staring each other down like a pair of circling wolves, neither one of us backing down. We both have cause for grievance. Of course, mine is the stronger argument, but I’m not prepared to stand in the middle of the street all night, just to prove a point. I’m not as stubborn as he is.
‘You shouldn’t have taken it upon yourself to decide my future.’ I say more calmly and carry on towards the car, staggering slightly towards the kerb. I’ve no idea where it is parked, but I’ve no doubt some directions will be barked at me soon enough.
‘You’re a fucking pain in the arse.’ he snaps. ‘And I was thinking about our future.’ He scoops me up from behind and carries me in his arms.
‘Jesse, put me down.’ I complain weakly. My meagre attempt to wriggle free is really quite pathetic.
‘I’m not putting you down, lady.’
I give in. My body is weak, my mind even weaker and my throat sore and raspy from too much shouting. I let him carry me to the car and deposit me in the passenger seat, not even kicking up a stink when he leans over to buckle me in. He mumbles incoherently as he pulls the hem of my dress down and then slams the door. I’m aware of him getting in the car, and I’m vaguely aware of the pleasant sounds of Ed Shearan, but then mental exhaustion overwhelms me and I can no longer find the energy to yell at him. My forehead hits the passenger window, and I stare blankly at the bright lights of London by night, flashing past the window.
* * *
‘Oh dear!’ I hear Clive’s disapproving tone as I come round, bobbing up and down in time to Jesse’s strides. ‘Should I get the elevator for you, Mr Ward?’
‘No, I’ve got it.’ Jesse voice vibrates through me. ‘Fucking dress is ridiculous.’ he mumbles as he calls for the lift and steps in when it opens immediately.
I come to in his arms, and then writhe to free myself. I seem to have dropped a stage of drunkenness and gone from drunk and defiant to simply difficult. ‘I can walk.’ I snap.
He scoffs and lowers me to my feet, but only because there’s nowhere for me to escape and there are no cars that I can walk in front of. The elevator door opens, and I’m the first to exit whilst fishing around in my clutch for my keys. I find them remarkably quickly, considering my disorientated hands, but getting the right one in the lock is another matter, entirely. I close one eye to try and focus as I slowly guide the key towards the lock. I hear him grumbling under his breath behind me, but I ignore him and carry on trying to insert the key. He must get fed up of waiting because there is suddenly a hand wrapped around my wrist, holding it steady and guiding it to the lock successfully.
The door opens, I kick my shoes off and trample through the colossal open space, taking the stairs carefully. When I reach the top, I don’t veer left to the master suite, instead taking a right and letting myself into my favourite spare room. I collapse in the bed fully dressed and without taking my make-up off, a clear indication of thorough exhaustion and drunkenness. I don’t let it concern me for long, though. My eyes close of their own accord, and I feel myself slipping into a drunken slumber.