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 need to see Kate,” Ava mumbles, slipping down from her stool. Fucking hell, she’ll face-plant if she walks anywhere. I quickly reach for her and stop her going, and John laughs.
“I think I may have just seen her disappear upstairs with Sam.”
Oh, so the arrangement is going ahead? He didn’t mention Drew, and something tells me not to either. “Do you want to go and say goodbye?” I ask, and she shudders.
“No.” She frowns and peeks past me to the foyer where the stairs lead to all things hedonistic. “Take me home.”
“With pleasure,” I say, seeing her now practically falling asleep where she sits. I turn to John. “I won’t be in tomorrow.”
“Because you’re meeting her parents, right?” he says quietly.
“They live in Cornwall, John,” I reply on a whisper, looking back at Ava. “I can’t just pop by for a cuppa. But I promise I’ll meet them before I ask Ava.”
“Make sure you do.”
I look at Ava on the stool, checking the distance. “It was Mike who called the police,” I say quietly, and John nods, looking pretty fucking savage. If I were Mike, I wouldn’t only be avoiding me.
“And Steve Cooke,” he says, reminding me of that problem to deal with.
Fuck it all to hell. Can’t I have just one day away from shit? But a loose member isn’t the kind of member we should have around. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Talk to him. If he doesn’t listen, he goes.”
“Right. Let me know when he’s next in.” Please don’t be tomorrow. “We’ll have a chat with him.”
John nods, reaching past me and knocking Ava from her semi-conscious state. “Night, girl.”
“Night, John,” she mumbles, flopping down from the stool. “Night, Mario.” She falls into my side, and I pluck a giftbag off the bar as I lead her out, the first to leave the anniversary party in . . . ever. Because I have something to go home to, and it beats the hell out of this place.
I get her into the car, her body now useless, all her energy spent on fighting off the women of The Manor. And God, did she do me proud. I shut the door and look up at the front of the building, the old, limestone bricks illuminated, every window glowing. It looks so beautiful. Full of beautiful people doing not so beautiful things. Love is beautiful. And there is none of that within the walls of The Manor.
Only unrequited.
Only unhealthy love.
Only momentary lust that can’t truly satisfy lonely hearts.
I always felt like I needed this place. And now I feel like I’m growing detached. It’s something in my way, along with all the other things in my way. And I could be rid of it.
I nod, thoughtful, surprised I’m having these thoughts as I round my car and slip in behind the wheel. But The Manor was Uncle Carmichael’s baby. He turned an old, dilapidated manor house into a luxurious resort for the sexually adventurous, and all it’s really brought is heartache and pain. I realize that now.
“I’ve had the best day,” Ava slurs, part tiredness, part drunkenness.
“Baby, I’ve had the best day, thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me for?” she asks.
“For letting me remind you.” I start the car and drive slowly down the driveaway, beneath the trees, between the spotlights that light the way. I look up into my rearview mirror, watching The Manor get farther away. Until I pass through the gates and it’s gone completely. At least, gone from sight. From my life? I’ve clung to The Manor all my life. It’s oddly been a lifeline and at the same time, my absolute downfall. I can feel my hold on it slipping, and I’m doing nothing to stop the detachment setting in.
I absentmindedly reach for Ava’s hand and clasp it, entwining my fingers with hers, holding on.
I would sacrifice anything in this world for her.
Even The Manor.
I look across the car and see her eyes are closed. Snoozing.
I feel like I’ve wasted too much time. No more. But like John has said, and for which I am grateful, I must do this the right way.
35
I pull through the gates and park up, turning off the engine and looking at her. Absolutely dead to the world. Has been since we pulled out of the gates of The Manor.
Ejecting myself, I round the front of the car and gather her into my arms. “Jesus fucking Christ,” I whisper, trying to get her limp body out of the seat without disturbing her.
“Watch your mouth,” she mumbles, circling her arms around my neck and holding on.
“Or else what?” I ask over a light laugh as I walk us into Lusso. But my amusement dies when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I stop, turning to face the glass doors with Ava in my arms, scanning the darkness outside. “What the fuck is that?” I ask quietly, a coldness creeping through my veins, cooling them.