This Man Confessed (14 page)

I almost let an exasperated curse fall from my lips.

Her reply is instant again.

My fingers work fast across the pad as I look up to check that Sarah’s still being served.

I shove my phone back in my bag when Sarah approaches with a coffee, crossing my legs and maintaining a look of complete hatred. I do hate her. I hate everything she represents, but most of all, I hate her for inflicting pain on Jesse. I should stop thinking. I’m getting angrier.

She lowers herself and stirs her coffee gingerly, looking down at her cup. “I wanted to apologize for everything that’s happened.”

“You do?” I laugh.

She pauses and looks up at me nervously. “Ava, I’m so sorry. I guess I was a little shocked at your arrival.”

“Oh?” I say on a frown.

“I’ve behaved dreadfully. I have no excuse.”

“Except that you’re in love with him,” I say frankly, and her eyes widen in surprise. “Why else would you behave like that, Sarah?”

She looks away, and I think I detect tears in her eyes. Oh, she’s
really
in love with him. Have I underestimated this
issue
? “I’m not going to fob you off, Ava. I’ve been in love with Jesse for as long as I can remember.” She returns her eyes to mine. “It doesn’t excuse me, though.”

“But you whipped him.” I don’t get it. “Why would you do that to someone you love?”

She laughs mildly. “That’s what I do. I dress in leathers, hold a whip, and thrash men before I fuck them.”

I wince. “Okay.”

“Jesse was never interested in that.”

“But you’ve still fucked him,” I say candidly. Jesse has admitted that to me, and I know he was never whipped before that horrible day when I found them in his office. She must have been in her element, especially when she managed to entice me to The Manor to witness the whole horror scene.

She looks surprised. “Yes, but just once.” She’s definitely holding back tears. I’ve
really
misjudged this issue. “Funny, isn’t it? Even when he was smashed he didn’t want me. He’d take them all, but never me.”

I’m beginning to understand this now, even if I’m not overly happy about the reminder of Jesse’s history. He screwed all over the place, took anything, anytime…except Sarah. The Manor is full of willing women, none more than Sarah, and he never wanted her. “You were hoping he’d fuck you after you thrashed him?” The words turn my stomach. I feel sick again.

She shakes her head. “No, I knew he wouldn’t. He was too screwed up over you. I never thought I’d see the day when Jesse Ward would fall to his knees for a woman.”

“You mean you
hoped
you would never see the day.”

“Yes, I hoped. I also hoped that you’d run a mile when you found out about The Manor.”

I did run a mile, but I went back. I look at the woman across the table from me, and I feel sorry for her. I hate myself for it, but I do.

She frowns and returns to stirring her coffee. “After what you did, and seeing how he reacted to that, it made me realize how stupid I’d been. He deserves happiness. He deserves you. You love him despite The Manor, what he did, and his problem with alcohol. You love him in his entirety.” She smiles. “You’ve made him feel. I should never have tried to take that away from him.”

I’m sitting in a stunned silence, just staring at her, with not a clue of what to say in response. What do I say to that? “You want your job back.” So I say that.

Her eyes widen. “I don’t think that can happen, do you?”

No, it couldn’t. Despite her confession, I could never trust her or even like her. I can feel a little sorry for her, but I could never invite her back into our lives. “You must have seen him with many women. Why target me?” I ask, although I already know the answer to that question.

“You were different; that was obvious. Jesse Ward doesn’t pursue women. Jesse Ward doesn’t take women back to his home. Jesse Ward doesn’t
not
drink. You’ve changed that man. You’ve done what many women have tried and failed to do for many years, Ava. You’ve won The Lord.” She stands up. “Congratulations, Mrs. Ward. Take care of him. Make him happy. He deserves it.”

She leaves.

As I watch her back disappear out of Starbucks, I feel tearful again. I’ve won The Lord. I’ve changed him. I’ve made him stop drinking and fucking around. I’ve made him feel and love. And he does love. He loves really hard. Fiercely. I need to see him. I really need to see him. Damn Ruth Quinn and her demanding arse.

I jump up and race to the car park to collect my present, calling Kate on the way.

“What did she say?” she screeches down the phone before it’s even rung.

“Apologized.” I’m a little breathless. “Anyway, I’m keeping the baby.”

She laughs at me. “Of course you are, you stupid cow.”

I smile as I run to my car, keen to get my appointment with Ruth out of the way so I can get to Jesse.

“Ava!” Her smiley face almost irritates me.

“Hi, Ruth.” I practically push past her into the shell of a kitchen, doing a quick analysis. Everything looks like it’s on track. Nothing is jumping out as being a problem. “I can’t stay long, Ruth. I have another meeting.” I turn to face her.

“Oh? Coffee?” She looks hopeful.

“No, really. What’s the problem?” I ask, trying to prompt her along, but she doesn’t look like she’s in a hurry as she meanders over to a makeshift table and starts faffing with a mug.

“I’ll just make myself one, and we can go sit in the lounge where it’s less dusty.”

I screw my face up in frustration. “I’m sorry, Ruth. Can we rearrange?” I’m feeling panicky.

“Oh. It won’t take long.” She carries on about her slow business, while I shift impatiently behind her. “Did you have a good weekend with your parents?”

The question throws me, but I quickly engage my brain before I drop myself in it. “Oh. Yes, thank you.”

She lazily strolls over to the fridge to get the milk. “It’s funny. I was sure I saw you on Friday evening,” she says casually. “In a bar. What’s it called?” She pours the milk leisurely and stirs even slower. “That’s it. Baroque on Piccadilly.”

“Oh?” Shit! “Yes, I joined a few work friends. Nothing much. I left Saturday morning to visit my parents.” My fingers are twisting wildly in my hair. Why am I even lying to her? What I do and when I do it is none of her business.

She turns with a smile, but then her eyes fall on my left hand and there is no mistaking the eye bulge. I look at my diamond-adorned ring finger and suddenly feel uneasy. “You’ve never said you’re married.” She laughs. “I feel so stupid! There’s me, telling you to steer clear of all men, and all along you were married!” She actually starts blushing, and a horrible realization kicks in.

She’s gay! Oh no! That would explain it—all of the invitations to drinks, the persistent calling and meetings, and now her eyes bulging at my rings. She fancies me. Now I really do feel uncomfortable.

“Wait there.” She frowns. “I remember you saying you had a boyfriend.” Her frown deepens. “And you didn’t have any rings on last week.”

I shift on my heels. “I only recently got married.” I’m not going into this. “My rings were being resized.” I can’t look at her. She’s attractive, but not like that.

“Why didn’t you say?” She sounds offended.

Why didn’t I say? Lots of reasons! “It was a low-key affair. Just family.” Would she have expected an invite, or would she have tried to stop me? All this talk is making me want to get to Jesse even more. Should I tell her that I’m pregnant, too? By the look on her face, it would probably finish her off. “Ruth, I really must get going. I’m sorry to do this.”

She makes an obviously bad job of hiding her alarm and giving me a fake smile. “No, you go. It can wait.”

I’m relieved. Maybe this was the best thing that could’ve happened. Will she ease off on the persistent offers of drinks and meetings? I can’t believe I didn’t see this before. I don’t dwell on it for long, though. I’m itching to escape, and not just because I have a female admirer.

“Thank you, Ruth. We’ll rearrange.” I don’t hang around. I exit hastily and wave my arm over my shoulder as I do, running down the path and jumping into my shiny new car, nearly breaking down in tears when “Angel” hits my eardrums.

I frantically stab at the button on the intercom, but after a few agonizing minutes, the gates still aren’t opening, so I dive into my bag and retrieve my phone to dial him. It rings once.

“Ava?”

“The gates won’t open!” I sound distressed and crazy, but I’m going out of my mind with the need to see him.

“Hey, calm down.” He sounds equally anxious. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the gates! I’ve been pressing the button, but no one’s opening them!”

“Ava, stop it. You’re worrying me.”

“I need you,” I say and sob, finally giving in to the overwhelming guilt that’s been looming deep inside of me for days. “Jesse, I need you.”

I can hear his labored breathing down the phone. He’s running. “Pull down the sun visor, baby.”

I look up through my tears and yank down the white leather, finding two small black devices. I don’t wait for his instruction. I press them both and the gates start to swing open. I throw my phone on the passenger seat and bang my foot down on the accelerator, immediately zooming forward. I’m crying hard now, painful, aching, heavy tears as I weave up the tree-lined driveway in a blur until I see Jesse’s Aston Martin come speeding from the other direction. I slam my brakes on and jump out, running at full pelt toward him.

He looks absolutely terrified as he flies from his car, leaving the door open, and sprints toward his crazy, hysterical wife. I can’t help it, I’m freaking him out, but this sudden clarity has sent me into a panic attack. I’ve lost control of my emotions. The cold-hearted bitch I’ve been is suddenly melting and letting me see things clearly.

Our bodies crash together, and I’m immediately engulfed by him, every hard muscle pushed up against me as I’m lifted and held tight to his body. I sob relentlessly into his neck as he paces around the driveway just holding me. I’m so stupid. I’m such a stupid, selfish, heartless cow.

“Jesus, Ava,” he says, panting into my neck.

“I’m sorry.” I still sound frantic, even now when I’m in his arms.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing. I just needed to see you.” I grip him tighter. I can’t get him close enough.

“Fucking hell, Ava! Please, explain!” He tries to release me, but I firm up my already iron hold, refusing to let him put me down. “Ava?”

“Can we go home?”

“No! Not until you tell me why the fuck you’re in such a state,” he shouts, battling with my clutching arms. I’m no match for him. He soon detaches me from his body and stands me in front of him, scanning every square inch of my figure as he holds the tops of my arms. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant.” I sob. “I lied to you. I’m sorry.”

He physically starts twitching and drops me, stepping back, his eyes wide, his frown line deep. “What?”

I brush my rolling tears away and drop my eyes to the floor. I feel so ashamed of myself. He’s no saint, but while he was trying to make life, I was thinking about destroying it.

“You make me so mad,” I whisper pitifully. “You make me mad and then you make me so happy. I didn’t know what to do.” It’s a feeble and pathetic excuse.

When a few silent moments have passed, and he still hasn’t spoken, I chance a glance at him. He looks in shock.

“Fuck! Ava, are you trying to get me sectioned?” His hands delve into his hair, and he looks up to the sky. “Are you fucking with my mind because I really don’t need this, lady. I’ve just got my head around you
not
being pregnant, and now you are?”

“I always have been.”

His head drops and so do his hands. They just dangle by his sides as he studies me closely, a disbelieving look on his face. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I don’t know. When I accepted it myself.” Maybe I was trying to make the most of dominant Jesse before he started treating me like glass again. I don’t even know. I’ve been so stupid.

“We’re having a baby?” He barely whispers the words. I nod my confirmation, and his eyes fall from mine to my stomach, lingering for a while. Then I see a tear trickle down his cheek. It enflames the guilt further, but when he drops to his knees, I lose complete control of my own weeping. I’m just standing and crying, watching his slumped body silently shedding tears in front of me. My natural response to my beautiful, neurotic man’s reaction is to walk straight to him and join him on the floor. My arms creep over his shoulders and hold him tight to me as he sobs into my neck, his hands drifting all over my back, like he’s checking that I’m really here.

“I’m so sorry,” I say quietly.

He doesn’t speak. He stands and lifts me with him before taking me to his car and depositing me in the passenger seat, remaining silent as he buckles me in. Taking his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he shuts the door before walking off and making a call while he moves my new car to the side of the driveway.

He returns and puts my bag between my feet before driving us home in complete silence.

H
e still hasn’t said a word by the time we pull up at Lusso. He gets out and collects me, walking me straight past a cautious-looking Casey and putting me in the penthouse elevator. I glance up at him, but he’s keeping his gaze pointed forward, not even meeting my eyes when I look at him in the reflection of the doors. When he opens the door into the penthouse, Cathy appears from the kitchen, her happy smile dropping away as soon as she notices her cheerfulness isn’t being reciprocated.

“Is everything okay?” She assesses us both, then looks to Jesse for an answer, but he just hands me my bag and nods toward the stairs. I look at him, silently begging for some words. He doesn’t indulge me. He nods again.

“Boy?” Cathy prompts warily.

“Ava’s not feeling too well.” He lightly pushes into my back with his hand, urging me forward.

“Are you coming?” I ask.

“I’ll be up in a minute. Go.” He reinforces his words with a firmer push of his hand, and I leave him with Cathy.

As I’m passing Jesse’s sweet housekeeper, she reaches out and gently strokes my shoulder, giving me a small smile. “I’m glad you’re home, Ava.”

I return her smile. It’s a feeble smile. I feel uncertain and a little concerned by Jesse’s despondent state. “Thank you.” I make my way upstairs, entering the master suite and settling on the end of the bed.

My eyes are brimming with tears again as I clutch my knees to my chest and wait for him. I know that right now is when we’ll talk about this, now that we have
both
acknowledged what is happening, but in order to have a talk, both of us need to be speaking, and Jesse doesn’t look like he plans on saying anything. I have no idea what is going through that crazy mind of his and the strained atmosphere is pushing doubts back into me. I need reassurance, not silence, not time to talk my way back out of this.

My head snaps up when he enters the bedroom, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he goes straight to the bathroom. I hear the waterfall tap of the bath start pouring and his movements as he follows through on his usual bath time routine. We’re having a bath?

After way too long just sitting on the bed, listening to the water running and Jesse’s quiet activities, he eventually walks soundlessly into the bedroom. Taking my hand and pulling me up from the bed, he strips me down, removes my diamond and my Rolex before picking me up and carrying me into the bathroom.

He lowers me gently into the bath. “Is the water okay?” he asks softly, releasing me and kneeling by the side of the tub.

“It’s fine,” I answer, watching as he removes his suit jacket and unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt before pushing them up his arms. He collects the sponge and dips, then squeezes some soap on it and turns me away from him. He starts gliding it across my back in gentle, steady strokes.

I’m confused. “Aren’t you getting in?” I ask quietly. I want him to lay behind me so I can feel him, take comfort in him. I need that.

“Let me look after you.” His voice is low and unsure. I don’t like it.

I turn myself around to face him, finding glazed green eyes and a stoic expression. It pulls at my heart. I’ve really fucked with his mind this time. “I need you closer than this.” I reach up with my wet hand and lay my palm on his cheek. “Please.”

He watches me carefully for a few moments, like he’s deciding whether he should, but he eventually sighs and drops the sponge, then stands and slowly removes his clothes. Stepping in behind me, he lowers himself to cocoon me completely. I feel immediately better with his warm hardness cradling me, but I can’t see him, so I turn over and sit on his lap, encouraging his knees up so I can lean back and look at him. I take his hands and interlace our fingers, and we both watch in silence as we play with each other’s hands, our tangled fingers glimmering now and then when our rings catch the reflections of the water. It’s not a difficult silence anymore.

“Why did you lie to me, Ava?” he whispers, still watching our snaking fingers working together.

My movements falter for a few moments but don’t stop completely. “I’m scared.” He needs to know that this whole situation terrifies me.

“Of me,” he says simply. “You’re scared of me.”

“I’m scared of how you’ll be.”

“You mean more crazy,” he confirms, keeping his eyes on our entwined fingers.

“It wasn’t even definite and you were treating me like a priceless object.”

He exhales softly and takes both of our hands to his chest, resting them over his heart, but he still doesn’t look at me. “You also think that I might love our child more than you.”

The words make me go rigid. They’re the words I have refused to acknowledge every time they’ve whirled around in my head. I
am
worried that he’ll love our child more than me. Selfishly, yes; it frightens me to death.

“Would you?” I ask quietly. I’m not sure how he’ll answer. All I’ve got to go on is how desperate he is for a baby.

His eyes lift slowly, revealing a sadness I’ve never seen before. “Do you feel that?” He flattens my palms on his chest and holds them there firmly. “It was made to love you, Ava. For too long it was useless, redundant, not required. Now it’s gone into overdrive. It swells with happiness when I look at you. It splinters with pain when we fight. And it beats wildly when I make love to you. Maybe I go overboard with my love, but that’s never going to change. I’ll love you this fiercely until the day I die, baby. Children or not.”

I’m crippled more than ever before. It really isn’t possible for me to love this man more. “I never want to be without your fierce love.”

He reaches up and slides his hand around the base of my neck, pulling me down so our foreheads meet. “You won’t be. I’ll never stop loving you hard. It’ll only get harder because every day that passes we create more memories. Memories I’ll treasure, not memories I want to forget. My mind is being filled with beautiful images of us, and they are replacing a history that lingers. They’re chasing away my past, Ava. I need them. I need you.”

“You have me,” I breathe, shifting my hands up to his shoulders.

“Don’t ever leave me again.” He kisses me gently. “It hurt so badly.”

I sit up on his lap and pull him up with me, wrapping my arms tightly around him and pushing my mouth to his ear. “I’m crazy in love with you,” I whisper. “Fiercely, too. That’s never going to stop.” I kiss his ear. “End of.”

His head turns into me, catching my lips. “My heart’s swelling.”

I smile a little as he reinforces his happiness with his kiss, drifting back down in the tub until I’m sprawled across his chest. We just kiss, for a long, long time. It’s gentle and sweet, but it’s what we both need right now. Pure, unapologetic, powerful love. It’s potent. It cripples us both.

He pulls back and encases my face with his hands. “Let me bathe you.”

“But I’m comfy.” I just want to lie on his chest and stay until the water cools and I’m forced to vacate the giant tub.

“We can be comfy in bed and you can fall asleep in my arms where you’re supposed to be.”

I frown. “It’s not even midafte—” I halt. “I’ve not gone back to work!” I start to scramble off him to call Patrick, but I’m swiftly restrained and pulled back down to his chest.

“I took care of it. Unravel your knickers, lady.”

He turns me around in his lap and retrieves the sponge from the water.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’re ill.”

“He’ll be sacking me soon.” I sigh and lean forward, dropping my heavy head between my propped-up knees and letting Jesse soak me all over with lazy rubs and squeezes of the sponge. The silence is comfortable, my mind serene. I close my eyes and absorb the love that’s flowing into me from our contact through the sponge. That’s how powerful it is. It can battle through any obstacle that’s placed between us, be it an inanimate object, such as a simple sponge, or a living, breathing person, such as a Coral or a Sarah…or a Mikael. Nothing can tear us apart…only us.

When he’s looked after me for a while, he wraps me in a towel and sits me on the vanity unit. “Stay there,” he orders gently before dropping a chaste kiss on my lips and leaving me with a furrowed brow.

“Where are you going?” I call after him.

“Just wait.”

I hear him rummaging and the crumpling of paper, and he’s soon standing in front of me again, holding up a paper bag with slightly raised brows. “What’s that?” I ask, pulling my towel in a little more.

He takes a deep breath and opens it up, thrusting it toward me so I can take a peek. I throw him inquisitive eyes and lean forward to look in the bag, quickly bolting upright on a shocked gasp when I register the contents. “You don’t believe me?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches in, pulling out a pregnancy test. “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you have a paper bag with—” I grab it and tip it upside down, emptying the little boxes into the sink next to me. I start picking them up and chucking them on the counter. “One, two, three… eight! Why do you have eight pregnancy tests?” I wave one of the boxes under his nose.

He shrugs sheepishly and bats the box away. “There are two in a box.”

“Sixteen?” I blurt.

He starts opening one of the boxes. “Sometimes they don’t work properly. They’re just backups.” He slides a stick out and takes it to his mouth, ripping off the plastic packaging before he thrusts it at me. “You have to pee on this bit here, look.”

I watch him pull the cap off and point to the only nonplastic part of the stick. “I did one at the doctor’s, Jesse. Why won’t you take my word for it?”

His lip slides straight between his teeth and starts to receive a nervous chew. “I do take your word for it, but I need to see for myself.”

I feel a little offended, although I have no right to be. “How long have you had these?”

He pouts and shrugs guiltily, dropping his eyes. He doesn’t need to say. I put my hand out and his eyes lift. They are sparkling again.

“Give.” I nod at the stick and watch as his lip slips through his bite and he smiles. He really
really
smiles. I think this smile even tops his one reserved only for me. I quickly bat away the silly pang of jealousy that stabs at me because of it and jump down from the unit. “Some privacy, please.”

He recoils, a look of disbelief on his face. “I’m staying!”

“I’m not peeing on a stick in front of you!”

He sits down on the floor in front of me, his towel gaping open and revealing…everything. “Move me.” He’s fighting a smug grin from his lush lips.

“I’ll use another bathroom,” I retort haughtily as I sidestep him to exit the bathroom, but I yelp as my ankle is grasped and I’m suddenly trying to pull a dead weight to escape. “Jesse!” I tug my leg, but it’s completely hopeless. I turn to find him lying on his stomach, now with both palms wrapped around my one ankle.

He’s looking up at me with adorable, shimmering eyes, and he’s pouting. “Humor me, baby. Please.” He actually bats his long lashes at me.

I try my hardest to restrain my smile. “Can you at least turn around?”

“No.” He jumps up and whips his towel off, his beauty hitting me like a sledgehammer. “Does this make you feel better?” He holds his arms to the sides, and I can’t stop my appreciative gaze dragging down his solid loveliness.

I sigh happily. “No, that just distracts me,” I muse, continuing to drink him in—all of him. Every wondrous, magnificent, sickeningly perfect inch of him. I reach his face. His eyes have smoked out, and I know mine have, too. “You wield that physique unfairly.”

“Of course I do. It’s one of my best assets.” He reaches forward and yanks my towel off. “It comes a close second to this one.” His eyes leisurely skate down my nakedness, and he sighs to himself. “Just perfect.”

“You won’t say that when I’m fat and swollen,” I grumble, suddenly realizing that I will, in fact, get fat and swollen. “And if you say there will be more of me to love, then I might divorce you.” I snatch the towel up and rewrap myself, ignoring his obvious annoyance at my concealing his best asset.

“Don’t say the word ‘divorce,’” he threatens, taking my hand and leading me to the toilet. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll eat for two, too.” He’s looking down at me with a smirk.

“Promise you won’t leave me when I’m unable to reach your cock with my mouth because my belly is in the way.”

He throws his head back on a laugh. “I promise, baby.” I’m turned around and positioned in front of the toilet. “Now, let’s pee on some sticks.”

I hitch up my towel and reluctantly lower myself to the toilet, while Jesse crouches in front of me. I hold the stick between my thighs and release my bladder.

“There.” I pull my hand out and hand him the test, and he takes it, immediately giving me another. “What?” I ask, frowning at the new stick.

“I told you, sometimes they don’t work. Quick.” He thrusts it forward.

My head rolls back in complete exasperation, but I take the stupid stick and repeat the same routine, only to finish and have another one shoved at me. “Jesse, come on!”

“One more.” He removes the lid.

“For God’s sake.” I snatch it on a scowl and shove it between my thighs. “That’s it!” I drain the rest of my bladder, making sure it’s completely empty so I physically
can’t
pee on any more sticks. “There.” I yank some tissue from the roll and sort myself out while he takes all three tests to the unit and places them neatly in a row.

Despite my irritation, I can’t help smiling as I watch him standing there, naked and bent slightly, bracing his hands on his knees and getting his face up close and personal with the tests.

“Are you okay there?” I ask, joining him and copying his position in front of the unit.

“I think they’re broken. We should do some more.” He makes to shift, but I grab his arm.

“It’s been thirty seconds.” I laugh. “Here, wash your hands.” I take his hands and hold them under the tap while he keeps his eyes on the test.

“It’s been longer than that,” he scoffs. “Much longer.”

“No, it hasn’t. Stop being neurotic.” I resume knee brace in front of the unit, as does he.

Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I meet his sideways glance, my lips curving at the corner. He raises defensive eyebrows at me.