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)
She turns seething eyes onto me, her mouth straight and tight. “Don’t go through my bag.”
“Why, what else are you hiding from me?” I discard the paper and move away, truly concerned she might swing for me.
“Nothing,” she shouts, her fists clenching the leather and squeezing, slamming it down again. She’s imagining the bag’s me.
“Let me tell you something, lady.” I risk getting closer, since she’s using her handbag as her outlet for now. I push my face close to hers, hoping she feels the white-hot anger. “I will die before I let you leave the country with that womanizing prick.”
“He won’t be coming!”
The bag gets another brutal beating, and I laugh on the inside. “Yes, he will. He’ll follow you there, trust me. He’s relentless in his pursuit of women.” Is she that fucking naïve? Clearly she is, which is why it’s crucial I keep her out of the reach of that bastard’s charms. Next, he’ll be inviting her to stay at his swanky Scandinavian home. Taking her skiing. For dinner. Will she try to convince me he’s just a client then?
“Just like you?” she asks over a laugh, and I frown, rewinding back through the conversation. Relentless. Pursuit. Is she insinuating I’m like Van Der Haus? That I’d cheat on my wife? If I had one.
Jake clears his throat in heaven. Fuck off! “That was different.” Lord, someone find me some calm before I explode.
“You’re impossible.”
No, not me. Us. We’re impossible, because she will never understand. “And what are you doing taking vitamins?” I ask, keen to get to the bottom of that matter too. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
She jerks back, like she’s been hit with an arrow, her questioning face somewhere between disbelief and rage. She moves fast, hauling something at my head. Fuck. I dodge the flying object, looking behind me when it crashes into the wall, missing my head by a whisker.
“I bought the vitamins for you,” she screams, pulling my eyes back to her. She’s seriously lost the plot.
“Why?”
“You put your body through the mill,” she says, breathless. “Have you forgotten?”
Forgotten? No, I’m still fucking suffering for it. I clench my battered hand and scowl. “I don’t need pills, Ava,” I say, incensed. She thinks a few pills can fix me? How many fucking times do I need to tell her? There’s only one thing in this word that can fix me, and she seems determined to break me more. “I’ve told you.” I take hold of her hands, pulling her close, and she breathes into my face, her head retracting back, her eyes darting. “I am not a fucking alcoholic,” I say calmly. “If I drink now, it will be because you make me crazy mad.”
“You blame this all on me,” she whispers, and I flinch, ashamed, releasing her and walking a few paces away.
“No, I don’t.” It’s everyone, not just her. “What else are you keeping from me?” I ask. “Business trips with rich Danish men? Cozy visits to the ex-boyfriend?”
“Cozy?” She more or less chokes. “You stupid fucking man.”
“Mouth!”
“Get lost!” Her words are hissed, her face red, her tone truly venomous. Clearly, I’m not going to get an answer. Clearly, she thinks there’s nothing wrong with leaving the country with another fucking man. I can’t deal with this kind of irrationality. I feel volatile. Unhinged. It’s not supposed to be like this. She’s supposed to be my cure, but all I’m feeling is agony again, and I can’t even fucking mask it with a drink.
“I can’t be around you right now,” I yell, feeling helpless. Hopeless. “I fucking love you, Ava. So fucking much, but I can’t look at you.” I have to leave. Get away from her, and that’s something I never dreamed I’d feel. “This is fucked up.” I walk out, slam the door, and call the elevator.
My foggy vision clears long enough for me to see the state of the man in the reflection of the doors.
Before I put my fist into his face on a roar.
The pain, the noise, the mess of glass spraying, adds that touch more chaos to my world. I abandon the elevator and take the stairs, my fist throbbing, my feet moving fast. Get away. Leave.
As I push my way into the lobby, I find Clive polishing the table between the chairs. Does this guy have a home? A life? “Mr. Ward,” he says when he spots me. I keep up my pace, dipping into my pocket and pulling out some notes.
“Don’t let Ava leave,” I say, slipping a wedge into his hand as I pass. What a ridiculous request. “Or call me if she does.”
“You can rely on me, Mr. Ward.”
I fall into my car, start the engine, rev it hard, and reverse out of my space, skidding up to the gates that aren’t opening fast enough, shaking my damn hand. I only make it to the end of the road before my car starts beeping. Great. Not only is my mood low, but so is my car on fuel. “God damn it,” I breathe, turning left instead of right, heading for the nearest fuel station to fill up.