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)
‘I want to come and anyway, I owe you a dress, remember?’ He smirks, and I’m swiftly reminded of the dress massacre. He only wants to come so he can make an appropriate selection, and that means I’ll probably be wearing ski pants and a roll neck jumper.
‘Friday lunch?’ I try, failing miserably to sound upbeat.
His frown line jumps into position. ‘That’s cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it?’
‘I’ll find something.’ I finish the most scrumptious coffee I’ve ever had.
‘Put me in your diary for Friday afternoon…all afternoon.’
‘What?’ I feel my brow knit.
He takes a wad of notes out of his pocket and puts five twenties in the leather bound book that the waiter has just left. One hundred pounds for breakfast? That’s my new dress!
‘Make Mr Ward a Friday afternoon appointment. Say, one-ish.’ His greens are dancing with delight. ‘We’ll go dress shopping and there will be no rush to get ready for the party.’
‘I can’t book out my whole afternoon for one appointment!’ I splutter in disbelief. Mr unreasonable is back.
‘You can and you will. I’m paying him enough.’ He stands and makes his way to my side of the table. ‘You need to tell Patrick that you’re living with me. I’m not pussy footing around him for much longer.’
Am I living with him? I stand, taking the hand he has offered, and let him lead me out of the restaurant. No, he won’t pussy foot around. He’ll just keep trampling him instead. ‘It will make things awkward.’ I try to reason. ‘He won’t be impressed, Jesse. And I don’t want him to think that I’m slacking instead of working if I should have any business meetings with you.’
‘I couldn’t give a fuck what he thinks. If he doesn’t like it, then you’ll retire.’ he says, marching on, dragging me behind him.
Retire? I love my job, and I love Patrick too. He’s joking. ‘You’re going to trample him, aren’t you?’ I say warily. My man is like a Rhinoceros.
The valet hands him his car keys and Jesse slips him a fifty. A fifty? Just for parking and returning his car? Granted, it is a very nice car, but still.
He turns into me, grazes his palm down my cheek and circles his nose on mine. ‘Are we friends?’ His minty freshness hits me like a bulldozer.
‘Yes,’ I submit, but judging by the last few minutes’ conversation, I don’t expect we will be for long. Retire? ‘Thank you for breakfast.’
He smiles. ‘Anytime. Where are you going now?’
‘The Royal Park.’
‘Near Lancaster Gate? I’ll take you.’ He presses his lips hard onto mine and pushes his hips gently forward.
I gasp.
He can’t thrust me outside The Ritz! I hear him laugh at my shock before he pulls me towards his car. The valet opens the door for me, and I smile sweetly before climbing in. After Jesse has slid in behind the wheel and given my knee a quick squeeze, he roars off into the mid-morning, London traffic at his usual alarming speed. I wonder how many points he has on his license.
So, I’ve just had a business breakfast with Mr Ward, of which the only business we discussed is crazy stuff. ‘What am I going to tell Patrick?’ I turn and look at him. Oh, he is so handsome.
‘What, about us?’ He flicks his eyes to me. His frown line is firmly in place.
‘No, about our business breakfast. What have we discussed?’
He shrugs. ‘Tell him we’ve agreed fees and I want you at The Manor on Friday to finalise the designs.’
‘You make it sound so simple.’ I sigh, sitting back in my seat and looking across the parks.
He places his hand on my knee and squeezes. ‘Baby, you make it sound so complicated.’
Jesse screeches up outside The Royal Park and waves a delighted looking valet away when he approaches to collect Jesse’s car.
‘I’ll see you at home.’ He wraps his palm around the back of my neck and yanks me over to him, taking his time to say his goodbye. I let him. I could crawl all over him. Sod the valet stood close by, looking longingly at the DBS.
‘Six-ish.’ I confirm as he kisses the corner of my mouth.
He grins. ‘ish.’
I know it’s not the right time to approach the subject, but it’s going to eat away at me for the rest of the day. He can’t be serious, surely? ‘I can’t retire at twenty six.’
He sits back in his seat, the stupid, sodding cogs kicking into action. It worries me instantly. He is serious. ‘I told you, I don’t like sharing you.’
‘That’s stupid.’ I blurt, which was obviously wrong, judging by the scowl that has just flashed across his face.
‘Don’t call me stupid, Ava.’
‘I wasn’t calling you stupid. I was calling your ambitious intention stupid.’ I argue quietly. ‘I’m never going to leave you.’ I reach over and slide my hand across the back of his neck. Does he need re-assurance on this?