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)
“Why the fuck is Sarah showing around the copper who was here last night?”
My mobile slips again, hitting the floor again. “Fuck it,” I yell, yanking at the bandage around my hand and pulling it off, my hand throbbing. I stuff it in my jean pocket and pick up my phone gingerly as I enter the code. “He’s a member, but probably not for long once Sarah’s done with him.”
“A member? Why the hell are you letting in people who’ve pissed us off?”
“Whose manor is it?” I ask. “And what happened with you and Victoria? I thought you were dating?”
“I don’t date, Jesse.”
“I believe you took her out to dinner.”
“I took her out for dinner and asked her to join me at The Manor. It didn’t go down too well.”
I chuckle, and Drew hangs up, the moody fucker. I start pacing the small space as I’m carried to the penthouse, and I squeeze through the doors the moment the gap is big enough, locating my key on the ring as I hurry to the door. Bursting in, I slam it behind me and stand, scanning the room. “Honey, I’m home,” I call, grinning to myself. I poke my head into the kitchen, check the terrace, and when I find both empty, I take the stairs three at a time, hoping I find her exactly where I left her. On the bed, drenched in lace.
I fall into the bedroom. The bed’s empty.
The bathroom. Empty.
“Ava?” I yell, proceeding to check every other room, my nerves becoming more frayed by the second. I’m getting worked up, unable to reason with the dormant fear rising inside, John’s words crowding my head. I force my legs to take me back to the bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed, gazing around. Listening. She’s not here. I gulp down the giant lump in my throat, wiping at my forehead while I dig my phone out of my pocket, repeating the same mantra over and over. Be cool. Be cool. Be cool. But she’s run too many times, and this feeling that descends every time she’s not where I expect her to be is unstoppable. She never mentioned leaving the penthouse. She never said anything about having to go anywhere. Surely, given she knows how I react to her disappearing, she would have. I dial her, and the fact she answers first time completely escapes me. So does her chirpy tone.
“Where the fuck are you?” I yell, standing and circling the room.
There’s a moment of silence before she retorts, “I’m with my brother,” evidently pissed off. I can give no time to that either. “Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I blurt, my voice high. “I get home and you’ve run out.” And she’s telling me to calm down?
“Fucking hell,” she says quietly.
I’ll give her fucking hell. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“I’ve not run out. I’ve come to meet my brother.”
I recoil. She didn’t mention meeting her brother. So she knew she had plans and didn’t tell me?
“He’s back from Australia,” she goes on. “I was supposed to see him yesterday, but I got a little caught up elsewhere.”
“I apologize for inconveniencing you.” I need to get off my high fucking horse.
“Excuse me?”
I ignore her and get to what I need to know; how much time have I got to kill before I get her back? “How long will you be?”
“I said I would spend the day with him.”
“Day?” I blurt. All fucking day? “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your phone interrupted me,” she says, almost tiredly, as I fight to get my breathing under control. “And you were sidetracked with problems at The Manor.”
Sidetracked? I’m never sidetracked from Ava. It’s fucking impossible, and there’s half my problem. She’s a constant on my mind, and I’m beginning to resent anything and everything that stops us being together. I never thought I could resent The Manor. Coral, yes. Freja, yes. Sarah, yes. But never The Manor. And now, her brother too. It hurts that while I seem to spend every moment away from her itching to get back, Ava’s quite content to have a life detached from me. She’s my be all and end all. Clearly, I’m not hers. “Where are you?” I ask, this time gently, falling to my back on the bed.
“I’m at a café.”
Vague. What, does she think I’ll track her down and drag her back? “Where?”
“It doesn’t matter where.” She’s giving me nothing. Not risking it. “I’ll be back at yours later.”
Later. Fuck me, that sounds like a long fucking time. What the hell am I supposed to do with myself until later? This is dependency of a different kind. And so completely unhealthy too. Fuck. “Come back to me, Ava.” I sound desperate. Can I help it? No.
“I will,” she says, soft and pacifying. It works to an extent, but it won’t bring her home any faster. I know I’m being a little unreasonable. But this feeling, the constant dread, the fear. It’s as strong as my love. As uncontrollable.