This Man Confessed (13 page)

“In a bikini?”

I laugh. “No, in a snowsuit. Of course in a bikini.” I’m really pushing my luck here, and I know it.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I’d like to go for a swim.”

“I’d like to strangle you,” he snaps. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Because you’re an unreasonable arse and you need to loosen up. You may be an old man, but I’m only twenty-six. Stop acting like a caveman. What’ll happen if we go on a beach holiday?”

“I thought we could go skiing.” He’s the one smirking now. “I’ll show you how good I am at
very
extreme sports.”

I grin and jump up to his body, my nose diving straight into his neck. “You smell luscious.” I inhale his yummy scent as he carries me out to the car, still wearing the short shorts.

We pull up at The Manor, and I’m quickly collected from my side of the car before being pulled up the steps and into the entrance hall. I hear the distant hum of chatting from the bar and smile when I see John approaching, looking ever the frightening mountain of a man.

“Ava would like to go swimming,” Jesse grumbles as John joins us.

The big guy looks down at me, his eyebrows peeking above his wraparounds. “You do, girl?”

I nod. “It’s hot out there.”

The small smile flashing across John’s face is an indication that he knows damn well what I’m doing. Yes, I’m trying to bash all unreasonableness out of my husband.

We pass the bar, and I spot Sam. I can’t see his face, but his body slumped on a stool is a clear indication of how he’s feeling. My best friend is an idiot. She’s running away from something good, just to reignite something that’s terribly bad.

As soon as we enter Jesse’s office, he drops my hand and goes straight to the integrated fridge. He pulls out a jar of peanut butter, immediately unscrews the lid, and plunges his finger in. John doesn’t bat an eyelid, instead taking a seat on the other side of Jesse’s desk while I look on with a smile. Jesse walks casually over to his chair and takes his seat, slipping his finger into his mouth and sighing. “What’s happening?” he asks John around his finger.

“Camera three is out. The surveillance company is scheduled to come sort it out.” John shifts in his seat and pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’ll chase them up.” He dials and puts his phone to his ear before standing and walking over to the window.

“Baby, you okay?”

I flick my eyes from John’s back to Jesse, finding a concerned look on his face. “Yes, fine.” I start toward his desk and sit myself down in the chair next to John’s. “Daydreaming. Sorry.”

His finger slips into his mouth again. “What about?”

I smile. “Nothing. Just watching you settle now that you have your peanut butter.”

He looks down at the jar and rolls his eyes. “Want some?”

“No.” My nose wrinkles in distaste, and he laughs, his eyes twinkling, his soft lines springing from his greens as he screws the lid on and slides the jar onto his desk. “How’s Sam?” I ask.

“Shit. He won’t talk about it. How’s Kate?”

“Not good.”

“What do you know? Why did she end it?”

I shrug as casually as possible. “Who knows.” I dare not even mention my brother. “It’s probably for the best.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Do you want to swim or stay with me?”

“What are
you
going to do?” I ask, eyeing up the piles of paperwork on his desk. I’ve never seen it so messy, and I know why. No Sarah. But I’m not feeling in the slightest bit guilty about it, even if it means Jesse’s desk looks like a bomb’s gone off on it.

He looks at the paperwork, too, and sighs. “This is what I’ll be doing.” He flicks through one of the piles.

“Why don’t you employ someone else?”

“Ava, it’s not that straightforward in this line of work. You have to know someone, trust them. I can’t just call the job center and ask them to send along someone who can type.”

Okay, now I
am
feeling a little guilty. He’s right. We’re talking about people of high society, people with high-powered jobs. Jesse has told me that they delve into the history of these people to determine their financial status and medical history, including any criminal convictions. I suppose there is a confidentiality issue. “I could help,” I offer reluctantly, even though I wouldn’t have the first idea where to start, but his overwhelmed expression as he scans the masses of paper on his desk is really nudging the guilt.

His eyes fly up. “You would?”

I shrug and grab the first piece of paper I can lay my hands on. “An hour here and there, I suppose.” I scan the text in my hands. It’s a bank statement. At least I think it is. The figures look more like international telephone numbers. I glance up at him. He’s grinning.

“We’re very rich, Mrs. Ward.”

“Fucking hell!”

“Ava…”

“I’m sorry, but…” I try to focus on all of the digits but lose my place. “This sort of stuff shouldn’t be lying on your desk, Jesse.” It has his account numbers on it and everything. “Wait…Did Sarah look after your finances?”

“Yes,” he says quietly.

I bristle. I don’t trust the woman. “Do you have any idea where your money is? How
much
there is?” I place the paper back on his desk.

“Yes, look.” He takes the piece and points at it. “I have this much and it’s in this bank.”

“You have just one account? What about business accounts, savings, pensions?”

He looks a little alarmed, and almost irritated. “I don’t know.”

I gape at him. “She did everything? All of your accounts?” I don’t like that thought at all.

“Not anymore,” he grumbles, throwing the paper back down. “But you’ll help?” He’s smiling again.

How can I not? This man is stinking rich and has no idea where and how any of his money is stored. “Yes, I’ll help.” I grab a pile and start sifting through, but then I have a very worrying moment of realization. My head snaps up, finding a contented face staring straight at me. “I said I’d help; that’s all. A few hours here and there, Jesse.”

He visibly sags at my words. “But it’s the perfect solution.”

“For you! The perfect solution for you! I have a career. I am not giving it up to come here every day and file paperwork!” The cheeky swine. He wants me to replace Sarah as his office girl. Not a chance. “And anyway”—I dump the pile back on the desk and stand—“I don’t know how to lash a whip, so I think I’m a little underqualified.” I don’t know why I said that. It was unnecessary and really quite spiteful.

He’s shocked. He’s sitting far back in his chair with a mixture of disbelief and anger on his face. “That was a little childish, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

John joins us again and breaks the uncomfortable silence. “They’ll be an hour.” He slips his phone back in his pocket. “Before I forget, we’ve had a further three memberships cancelled.”

Jesse’s eyebrows raise in curiosity. “Three?”

“Three,” John confirms as he walks toward the door. “All female,” he adds, leaving the office.

I watch as Jesse’s elbows hit his desk and his face falls straight into his palms. I feel rotten. I make my way around his desk and push him back in his chair before sitting on his desk in front of him. He watches me as he chews that lip. “I’ll sort all of this out,” I indicate the paperwork everywhere. “But you need to get someone on this. It’s a full-time job.”

“I know.” He clasps my ankles and pulls them up so my feet are sitting on his knees. “Go for a swim. I’ll make a start on this, okay?”

“Okay.” I study him closely and he studies me studying him.

“Go on, beautiful girl. Spit it out.” He’s smiling a little.

“They’re withdrawing their memberships because you’re no longer available to fu—” I bite my tongue. “To have sex with.” That makes me immensely happy and it’s obvious.

“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?” He narrows his eyes on me. “I can see this pleases my wife.”

I shrug, but I can’t hide my pleasure at this news. “What’s the ratio of women to men?”

“Members?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Seventy thirty.”

My mouth drops open. I remember Jesse saying there were roughly fifteen hundred members. That’s a thousand women who are potentially after my Lord. “Well,” I say, brushing off my shock. “You might have to turn The Manor into a gay club.”

He laughs and dangles my feet back off the desk. “Go take a swim.”

The changing rooms are empty. I wriggle into my bikini, remove my diamond, retie my hair high on my head, and stuff my things in one of the wooden lockers. In all of the time I’ve been with Jesse, I’ve never used the spa and sports facilities, but I’m reliably informed that there’s no skinny-dipping allowed, so I’ll brave it and put Jesse to the test at the same time. I wander through the area, looking for any sign of life, but it’s completely deserted. It’s lunchtime on a Sunday. I would have thought it would be a peak time for members to utilize this part of The Manor.

Stepping into the huge glass building, I scan the area, finding all of the Jacuzzis, the huge pool, and the sun loungers are empty. It’s eerily quiet, the only sound a distant hum of water pumps. Laying my towel on a wooden sun lounger, I gingerly take the first step into the water and sigh. It’s tepid. Lovely. I wade down the rest of the steps, push myself into the water, and start a breast stroke to the other end of the pool.

I’m relishing in the calmness and quiet as I swim length after length, no one joining me, no one venturing in to use the Jacuzzis, and no one coming to relax on a sun lounger. But then I hear movement, and I stop midlength to see who appears from the entrance that leads to the changing areas. Jesse emerges, wearing a loose pair of black swimming shorts. I sigh in appreciation, and he blasts me with his smile, before diving straight in, his body stretching out, making minimal noise or splashing as he slips below the surface. I float in the middle of the pool and watch the shadow of his tall body approaching me under the water until he’s right in front of me, but he remains submerged beneath me.

Then I feel his palm wrap around my ankle, and I squeal as I’m yanked under the water, just catching a lungful of air before I disappear, my eyes naturally clenching shut. His lips meet mine, his arms surround me, and he rolls us around under the water, our skin slipping all over each other, our tongues dancing wildly.

My lungs scream a thank-you when we surface, my legs clenching around his waist and my arms around his shoulders. I try to grab ahold of my bearings and attempt to open my eyes, and when I do, I’m greeted by a dirty great big grin. I know he can’t touch the bottom himself, so he must be treading water frantically with my dead weight clinging to him. You would never know it, though. He looks like he’s just floating effortlessly in front of me.

I push his wet hair from his face and match his grin. “You closed the pool, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shifts me around to his back and starts swimming to the side.

“I don’t believe you.” I rest my chin on his shoulder. “You couldn’t stand the thought of me in a bikini and others seeing. Admit I’m right.” I’ve got my Lord worked out.

He reaches the edge of the pool and pulls me from his back, pushing me up against the side. “I love the thought of you in a bikini.”

“But for your eyes only?”

“I’ve told you before, Ava. I don’t share you with anyone or anything, not even their eyes.” He slides his hands down my sides and onto my thighs. “Just for my touch,” he whispers. It makes me immediately clench my thighs as he leans in and kisses me gently before scanning my face. “Just for my eyes.” His finger slips into the side of my bikini bottoms, and I hold my breath as he strokes me softly. “Just for my pleasure, baby. I know you understand me, don’t you?”

“I do.” I shift in front of him and drape my arms over his shoulders.

“Good. Kiss me.”

I dive right in and show my appreciation with a long, hot, passionate kiss that draws a low moan from each of us. His hands shift to my waist, his big hands circling me completely as he holds me tight, and we kiss for the longest time—there in the middle of the pool, just me and him, drowning in each other, consuming each other, loving each other.

Everything that happens between us is a result of the potent, sometimes poisonous, love we share. It pushes us to behave erratically and unreasonably. In reality, we’re probably level pegging in the crazy department, or maybe I’ve overtaken him. What I’m planning definitely qualifies me as crazy. And if my crazy husband finds out, then I’ve no doubt I will see him tip over the edge of craziness.

I
love you.”

The low whisper makes me smile as I roll over and blindly grab at him. “Hmmm,” I hum, pulling his body down to mine.

“Ava, it’s seven-thirty.”

“Sleepy sex,” I demand, my hand drifting down his thigh until I find what I’m looking for. I grasp him loosely.

“Baby, I’d love to, but when you wake up properly, you’re going to fly into panic and leave me halfway finished.” He grabs my hand and pulls it up to his face, kissing my fingers sweetly. “It’s Monday morning. It’s seven-thirty.”

My eyes open, seeing his wet face suspended over mine. He’s had a shower, which means he’s been for a run, which means it’s late. I bolt upright, and he quickly moves to avoid being head-butted. “What time is it?”

He smiles fondly. “It’s seven thirty.”

“Jesse!” I jump up and run into the bathroom. “Why didn’t you wake me?” I flick the shower on and turn to the sink, loading my toothbrush with toothpaste.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.” He leans on the door frame and watches me frantically scrubbing my teeth. He’s grinning, no doubt at my little fluster.

“Never…bother…’fore.” I spit around my mouthful of paste.

His grin widens. “Pardon?”

I shake my head on an eye roll and return to the mirror, finishing up and rinsing out. “I said it never bothered you before.” I step in the shower and make a quick job of washing my hair and shaving before stepping out and practically running into the walk-in wardrobe. I stand and stare at the rails and rails of clothes, mostly all with tags still attached. It’s too much like hard work trying to choose; there’s way too much, so I yank down my old red shift dress.

By the time I’ve rough dried my hair, haphazardly slapped on my makeup, and landed downstairs, Jesse is suited up and collecting his car keys.

“I’ll take you.”

“Where’s Cathy?” I eye him up. All of him. That’s my husband.

He frowns a little. “I don’t know. It’s not like her to be late.” Grabbing my hand, he starts leading me from the penthouse.

We make our way down to the foyer of Lusso and as we approach the concierge desk, I see Cathy leaning up, chatting with Clive. I grin and look up to Jesse, but he ignores me, even though he knows damn well I’m looking at him and probably what I’m thinking, too. “That would explain,” I say on a little laugh.

“They’re just talking,” Jesse grumbles, leading on.

“They look very friendly.” I watch Cathy fidget and giggle as Clive entertains her with words and hand gestures.

She spots us. “Oh! I was just on my way up!”

“No problem.” Jesse doesn’t sound impressed, and he doesn’t stop. I, however, would love to hang around and see the developments. My grin widens as I pass, and Cathy and Clive both blush profusely. “I’m out of peanut butter,” Jesse calls back crossly.

“There’s a whole box of it in the cupboard, my boy. Do you think I’d let that run dry?” Cathy sounds irritated by Jesse’s critical comment. It makes me laugh, especially when Jesse starts grumbling under his breath.

“Don’t be so moody. They’re only talking,” I rebuke him as we emerge into the sunshine and Jesse slips his Wayfarers on.

“It’s not right.” He shudders and releases my hand.

I start rummaging through my bag for my own shades. “Ooh, she might be inviting him up when we’re not there. I did notice the sheets in the spare room were a little…ruffled.”

“Ava!” he yells as he points a screwed-up face of displeasure to the heavens. “Don’t!”

I laugh. “Stop being ageist.”

“I’m not.” His disgusted face disappears immediately. He’s grinning now.

“What are you smirking at?” I ask.

He removes his shades and closes the distance between us, stooping down so our noses touch. “I’ve bought you a wedding present.”

“You have?” I rest my lips on his. “What?”

“Turn around.”

I pull back and watch his delighted eyes as he nods over my shoulder, so I slowly pivot and stand for a few moments, scanning the car park for whatever I should be looking for. His arm appears over my shoulder and dangles a set of car keys in my face. It’s then I spot a dirty great big, bright white, sparkly wheeled Range Rover Sport. Or tank—whichever.

Oh no!

I can’t even think of any words. I squint as the keys are jangled in front of me, like he doesn’t realize that I’ve clocked my present and he’s trying to hint further. No need. I can see it. And I hate it!

“Over there,” he prompts, jangling the keys again.

“You mean that spaceship?” I ask dryly. I’m not driving that thing, no matter how many countdowns or sense fucks I get as a consequence.

“You don’t like it?” He sounds hurt.

Oh shit, what do I say? “I like my Mini.”

“It’s not safe.” Now he sounds affronted. He makes his way around me and looks down at my shocked face. “This is safer.”

I can’t help the incredulous look my face is naturally morphing into. “Jesse, that’s a man’s car—a John car. It’s fucking huge!”

“Ava! Watch your fucking mouth!” He scowls at me. “I got it in white. That’s a lady’s color. Come on, I’ll show you.” He takes my reluctant shoulders and leads me over to the giant snowball. The closer I get, the more I hate it. It’s far too showy. I love my Mini. “Look.” He opens the door…and I gasp.

It gets worse.

White … everywhere. White leather steering wheel; white leather gearstick; white leather seats. Even the carpets are white.

I look up at him, my deluded husband, and shake my head, but I can’t be ungrateful. He looks so pleased with himself. “I don’t know what to say.” I really don’t. “You could’ve just bought me a watch or a necklace or something.” I wish he had bought me a watch or necklace or something.

“Jump in.” He ushers me forward.

I gasp. Oh no! Stitched in the headrest of the front seat is “Mrs. Ward.”

Now that’s going too far. “I am not driving this!” I blurt, before my brain filters the insulting declaration.

“You fucking are!”

Well, that just got rid of any guilt I had and now I’m really digging my heels in. “I am not! Jesse, it’s way too big for me!”

“It’s safe.” He picks me up and places me on the driver’s seat. I feel small. “Look.” Reaching in, he presses a button and a compartment pops open, revealing a computer screen. “Everything you’ll need. I’ve loaded all of your favorite music.” He grins, pressing a button, and Massive Attack seeps through all of the millions of speakers. “You can think of me.”

“I think of you every time you call and I hear that track.” I jump out. “I want your car. You can have this.” I signal to the gleaming heap of metal.

“Me?” A worried looks passes over his face. “But it’s a bit…” He runs his eyes over my present. “…girly.”

“It is, and I know your game, Ward.” I look inside and my mind conjures up images of baby seats and child booster seats…and a pram in the boot. I turn and storm off toward my lovely little Mini, in which there is no chance of squeezing a pram in the boot.

I’m stunned when I make it into my car without any Jesse-style intervention. I look in the rearview mirror as I settle in my seat and see him leaning against his own car with his arms folded over his chest. I ignore the heavy glower on his stunning face and start my Mini, quickly reversing out of the space and heading for the gates. “Impossible man,” I mutter to myself, reaching up to smash the button on the little black device that will open the gates.

It’s not there.

“What!” I yell disbelievingly to absolutely no one. “Fucking hell!” I slam my brakes on and jump out, finding the glower has morphed into a dazzling smile.

“Planning on going somewhere?”

“Oh, fuck off!” I yell across the car park, grabbing my bag from the front seat and leaving my car exactly where it is, driver’s door open. I stomp my angry heels toward the pedestrian gate, but I’m not lucky enough to avoid a Jesse-style intervention this time. I’m swiftly grabbed and hoofed back to my shiny new wedding present.

“Will you watch your fucking mouth!” He places me in the driver’s seat and puts the seatbelt on me before whipping the keys to my Mini from my hand. “Why do you have to defy me on absolutely everything?” He starts transferring all of my keys onto my new car key ring.

“Because you’re an unreasonable arse!” I shift irritably in my seat. “Why can’t
you
take me to work?”

“I’m already late for a meeting because my wife won’t do as she’s told.” He grabs the back of my neck and yanks me forward. “Anyone would think you’re after a retribution fuck.”

“I’m not!”

He grins and hits me with a full-on, hot, melt-worthy kiss. A long one—one of those kisses that bashes all of the obstinacy right out of me. “Hmmm, you taste delicious, baby. What time are you finishing work?”

I’m released and, as ever, breathless. “Six.”

“Come straight to The Manor and bring your files so we can finalize the orders for the new rooms.” He pushes another button, lowering the driver’s window, before shutting the door and leaning in. He looks so smug. “I love you.”

“I know,” I mutter, turning the key in the ignition.

“Have you spoken to Patrick yet?” he asks, halting my strop and reminding me that I have yet to fulfill his request.

“Move my car!” I snap, not knowing what else to say.

“I’ll take that as a no. You’ll speak to him today.” It’s not a question.

“Move my car,” I repeat touchily.

“Anything you want, lady.” His eyes are giving me a thorough warning, but I ignore it.

“Where the hell am I going to park this thing?”

He starts laughing and strolls off to move my car before jumping in his DBS and screeching out of the car park.

After driving around the nearest car park for an age, I finally find two spaces to straddle. Bursting through the office door, the first thing I see is a bunch of calla lilies spread on my desk and as I get nearer, a little box.

“Darling!” Tom’s croon doesn’t distract me from the small box.

“Morning,” I greet, taking a seat and picking it up. “You okay?”

“Chirpy chirpy. You?” Tom sounds curious now and that
does
have my eyes dragging away from the box as I remember the last time I saw him.

“I’m good.” I brush it off and watch as his face spreads into a cheeky grin.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. God, that man can do a sexy brood!” He starts fanning his face with a coffee coaster. “Hot!”

I scoff and turn my attention back to the box. What’s he bought me now? “Who delivered this?” I ask, holding the box up.

“Flower girl.” Tom shrugs and returns to his computer, leaving me to unwrap the neatly covered gift box. I sigh when I open it up and come face to face with a graphite and gold Rolex. It’s the women’s equivalent to Jesse’s and stunning, but more responsibility.

“Wow!” Sally gushes as she catches sight of the contents. “Wow, wow, wow! That’s beautiful!”

I smile at her enthusiasm and take it from the box, slipping it over my wrist. It really is. “I know,” I say quietly. “Thanks, Sal.” I move the flowers from my desk and slip the box into my bag.

“Would you like a coffee, Ava?” Sal heads for the kitchen.

“Please. Where are Patrick and Victoria?”

“Patrick has a personal meeting and Victoria is on a site visit.”

“Oh, okay.”

After putting my flowers in water, I get stuck into my work, preparing my file to take to Ruth Quinn’s, and then printing off all of the details for the obscenely expensive beds that Jesse wants made for The Manor.

At ten o’clock, I abruptly come over all queasy and disappear into the toilet to try and throw up, but it’s just not happening. I slump on the toilet, feeling hot, bothered, and tearful. I need to chase up my hospital appointment. Suddenly a little determined, probably because of how crap I feel, I exit the toilets to do exactly that, but I’m soon halted midresolute march when the main office comes into view and I clock someone sitting in one of the tub chairs opposite my desk.

Sarah.

I don’t feel ill anymore. I feel angry. What the fucking hell is she doing here?

“Ava?”

I bristle further at her voice. “Sarah,” I say flatly. She’s looking rather understated, her hair softer than usual and her boobs tucked neatly behind a substantial cropped jacket, the short dresses sidelined for a respectful knee-length matching skirt. “Why are you here?” I ask.

“I was hoping we could talk.” She shifts in the chair uncomfortably, her usual cocky demeanor nowhere in sight.

 “Talk?” I ask cautiously. “About what?” I’ve got nothing to say to this woman.

She glances around the office, as do I. Tom is looking curiously across at the strange woman who’s sitting at my desk. “Perhaps I could buy you a coffee?” she asks, returning her eyes to mine.

While I should be telling her where to go, curiosity is getting the better of me. I walk over to my desk and grab my bag. “I have half an hour,” I say curtly, leaving her behind and walking out of my office. My heart is pumping too fast for my liking. I thought I’d seen the back of this whip-wielding witch, and now that I’ve clapped eyes on her again, all of the torment and drama she’s caused is fresh and clear in my mind. All I can see are lash marks on Jesse, his tortured face, and my pitiful body draped over him. She has a nerve.

I walk into the nearby Starbucks and settle in a chair. I know my face is plastered in a look of contempt as she approaches the table, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it. I want her to know how much I hate her.

“Would you like a drink?” she asks politely. This is not the Sarah I know and despise.

“I’m fine.”

She smiles a little. “Well, I think I’ll get one. I don’t think the management would be very happy about us taking up a table. Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I watch her go quietly to the counter, ensuring she’s busy ordering before I pull my phone from my bag to text Kate.

She replies immediately. Granted, it wasn’t the sort of text that you could cast aside with the intention to reply soon.