Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I blow her hair out of my face and hold her, stroking, kissing her head, breathing her into me. “Tomorrow,” I whisper, “we get all your things from Kate’s.” She doesn’t protest. “On Monday, we tell Patrick, and I think you should be letting your parents know I’m more than just a friend.” I wait for what she might say to that.
I get nothing.
I’m not surprised. She’s dragging her feet, being non-committed on that front, and it isn’t because she’s dog-tired right now. So in the morning, we’ll talk about it. Make a plan. I need to meet her parents before I ask her to marry me. And if Ava blocks me meeting them, I’ll take matters into my own hands.
John will be delighted.
I peek down at her, seeing her face squished into my chest, her mouth open, but I don’t move her. Not yet. I wait another five minutes—five minutes that feels like five hours, before I start to peel her arms and legs away from me, taking the utmost care not to wake her, and remove her necklace carefully before I grab my phone from my suit jacket and head downstairs, stopping off at my study to put the diamond in the safe.
Leaving the penthouse, I lock the door behind me and go down to the foyer. “Mr. Ward.” Clive looks at me tiredly when I reach his desk. “May I recommend clothes?”
I laugh mildly at the old goat.
“What’s that on your chest?”
I look down, to the bruise Ava has put there. Marking me. “Nothing, Clive.” I look over my shoulder to the darkness outside. “The security is all working fine, right? The cameras, the alarms etcetera?”
“Always, Mr. Ward.”
I nod, turning back to him, but something catches my eye, moving outside. “What was that?”
“What?”
I’m off, running out into the darkness.
In my boxers.
“Fuck!” I yelp, as I crash into something.
A cart.
A fucking shopping cart.
“Dude,” someone yells, as it topples onto its side and bedding, bags, and fuck knows what else tips all over the car park.
I gather myself, shaking my head, taking in the scene. “Sorry,” I splutter, wincing at the pain in my shin, taking in the hairy man before me, his clothes big and utterly filthy.
“Mr. Ward.” Clive darts out, looking between me and . . . a homeless man? I scan the ground around me. His worldly possessions are strewn everywhere. “Oh no, not you again.” Clive grumbles.
“Who again?” I ask, looking between them.
“He keeps sneaking in when residents come in and out of the gates. Making a home for himself by the trash cans.”
“You folk sure do throw out some decent rubbish.” The guy starts picking up his things and I set his cart back on its wheels.
“For fuck’s sake.” I dump his duvet in the cart. “You shouldn’t be in here, mate.”
“Yeah, well, you do what you have to do to survive, mate.”
“I’m sure,” I say, going for my pocket for my wallet. Frowning.
“You supposed to be wearing clothes?” he asks, taking the handle of his cart.
I laugh under my breath and scrub a hand down my face. “Goodnight.” I leave Clive to see off the vagrant, wandering back into the foyer and returning to the penthouse, unlocking the door and letting myself in. And I stand there, laughing to myself. So fucking paranoid.
I look up the stairs, where she’s tucked up cozy and safe. Without me wrapped around her. I need to fix that. I also need to stop letting my imagination runaway with me.
I lock the door. Check it. Then go to join Ava in our bed.
36
I sleep like a baby, our warm, naked skin touching all night. To think I can have this every night for the rest of my life? Someone. Someone who’s mine. Someone no one can take away from me. I reach for my phone and seize the opportunity to catch another picture of her sleeping, her rich, dark hair fanning every inch of my chest.
I wake up the screen and point the camera down at her, smiling as I take a picture of her on me, then settle back and browse through my building collection of pictures. There’s nothing else on my phone since I met her. Just Ava. Ava walking, Ava running, Ava showering, cleaning her teeth, sleeping, eating, lost in thought. She’s beautiful in every single one.
Beautiful and mine.
Do it right.
I look at the time. Six thirty. I could call Kate and get Ava’s parents number. But I’m pretty sure I won’t win any brownie points if I call them at this time of day and introduce myself, then follow it up by advising them of my intention to marry their daughter. “Fuck it.” I wouldn’t win any brownie points if I did that at any time of day.
Doesn’t matter. I don’t want brownie points. I want Ava. They have to like me because Ava loves me. It’s the rules. I can win them over. No sweat. So why the fuck am I actually sweating? And my heart’s beating way faster than normal? Asking her dad? It’s a bit traditional, and Ava and I aren’t traditional. I pout. We’re better than traditional.