Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 202638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1013(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 675(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202638 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1013(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 675(@300wpm)
‘Oh, you know. I went for a drink.’ She’s trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
I knew it! ‘Nice. Who with?’ I feign disinterest. It’s hard. I’m desperate to discover that our Sal – dull as dishwater, plaid skirt wearing, high necked bloused, office dogsbody – is a dominatrix or something.
‘I had a date.’ she says, maintaining her failing casual tone.
‘Really!’ I blurt. That came out so wrong. I didn’t mean to sound shocked, but I am.
‘Yes, Ava. I met him on the internet.’
Internet dating? I’ve heard nothing but bad things about it. They look like an underwear model on their profile picture, but when they turn up they are more akin to a serial killer. Sal seems quite happy, though. ‘Did it go well?’ I ask, biting into a chocolate digestive.
‘Yes!’ she screams. I nearly choke on my biscuit. I’ve never seen her so animated. ‘He’s perfect, Ava. He’s taking me out again tomorrow.’
‘Ah, Sal, I’m really happy for you.’
‘So am I!’ she sings. ‘I’m off now. Do you need anything before I go?’
‘No, you get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She dances out of the kitchen and I remain lent against the counter as I work my way through another three chocolate digestives. I should replace them with wine. I’ve had a mad day, and I’m not looking forward to stopping by Matt’s to collect the last of my stuff, but it will be a good job done and Jesse will never have to know. I’ve not forgotten his demand to not see Matt again.
I pull up outside and the first thing I do is look for Matt’s car. It’s not there. He can’t have forgotten; I only called this morning, and I can’t wait around for him because Jesse will be on the phone soon wondering where I am. I pull my phone out of my bag and dial his number.
‘Ava?’ he answers swiftly.
‘Matt, I’m at yours.’ I say flatly and with clear annoyance.
‘Ava, I’m so sorry. I would have called, but I was in a meeting I couldn’t get out of. I’m going to be at least an hour.’
I throw my head against my seat. I can’t wait for an hour. ‘Fine, tomorrow?’
‘I’m in Birmingham tomorrow and Wednesday. Can we do Thursday?’
I inwardly groan. I wanted to get this out of the way. ‘Sure, same time on Thursday.’ I hang up and toss my phone on the passenger seat in disgust. Irritating prick.
When I pull up outside Lusso, the gates open immediately. Jesse’s car isn’t here, which would explain why he’s not called to see why I’m not here yet.
I enter the foyer, weighed down with flowers and bags, and see Clive clicking various buttons on his high-tech surveillance system. I might just sit in one of the comfortable leather sofas and wait. What else can I do?
‘Hi, Clive.’
He looks up and smiles. ‘Ava, how are you?’
Rubbish! I’ve had a ridiculously busy day, I want to shower, get into my sweats and have a glass of wine. I can do none of those things, and I’m pissed off that Jesse’s made a big fuss about me being here and he’s not even here himself. ‘Tired.’ I mumble, heading for a big sumptuous sofa. I might fall asleep.
‘Here, Mr Ward left this for you.’
I look up and see Clive holding up a pink key. He left me a key? So he knew he wouldn’t be here and he didn’t even ring to tell me.
I walk over to Clive and take the key. ‘When did he go?’ I ask.
Clive continues clicking and switching while studying the monitors. ‘He dropped by at around five to leave you a key.’
‘Did he say when he would be back?’ I ask. Am I just expected to hang around and wait?
‘Not a word, Ava.’ Clive doesn’t bother looking up at me.
‘Did he ask you about the woman who stopped by?’
‘No, Ava.’ He almost sounds bored. No he didn’t, I know he didn’t because he bloody knows. And he’s going to tell me.
I leave Clive playing with his equipment and make my way up to the penthouse, letting myself in with my pink key and heading straight to the kitchen. I go to the fridge and yank the door open, being immediately confronted with rows and rows of bottled water. Oh, what I would do for a glass of wine. I shut the fridge door with more force than it deserves – it’s not the fridge’s fault there’s no wine in it. Will I ever have a drink again?
I sit myself on a barstool and gaze around the immense kitchen that I designed. I love it and never in a million years did I imagine I would have the opportunity to live here. Now I have, though, I’m really not sure about it. I love him, but I fear living with him will just encourage his controlling behaviour and challenging ways. Or would he be better? More reasonable?