Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
He reaches up, grasping my wrist to pull my hand down from my hair. ‘Now, tell me the truth.’ he demands softly.
How has he picked up on my bad habit so quickly? I’ve known my Mum, Dad and my brother all of my life, and Kate since secondary school. They’ve earned the right to this knowledge.
‘Answer me, Ava.’
‘He asked me to get back together with him.’ I drop my eyes. I can’t look at him. Not that I should care. After all, I’m only fucking him.
‘When?’ He grinds the words through clenched teeth.
‘It was weeks ago.’ I feel his hand tighten around my wrist as my muscles flex to raise my fingers to my hair. I’m so bad at lying.
He tips my chin up with his free hand so I’m forced to look at him. I’m not at all comfortable with the blackness burning in his eyes. ‘When?’
‘Last Tuesday.’ I whisper.
His eyes narrow as he starts chomping on his bottom lip. What’s he thinking? ‘He was your something important that came up, wasn’t he?’
Oh…dear. He’s going to go spare. I watch as his chest puffs in and out, slowly and controlled. I’m not frightened – I know he won’t hurt me. I’ve seen his reaction and subsequent prevention methods to a few bruises on my arse, but he’s just so intense in his reactions and approaches.
‘Yes.’ I admit quietly. I physically feel the ice air emanate from him at my answer. ‘I need to get back to work.’ I add. I need to remove myself from this situation.
His sludgy eyes bore into me. ‘You won’t see him again.’ It’s another demand.
This lunch hour has been a massive eye opener. He wants complete control of me, and I get absolutely no say in it – none at all. Is this what I want? My head is a riot of mixed feelings and doubts. Why did I have to go and fall in love with the ultimate, unreasonable, challenging control freak?
I wait patiently for him to release me from his grasp. I have no idea what to say. Is he waiting for my confirmation to his demand? Should I give it? I’m not likely to see Matt again, not after his performance, but should I have to give my word to a man that I’m, apparently, fucking?
He watches me carefully for a considerable amount of time before his forehead meets mine and his lips move up, pressing against my brow. ‘Go to work, Ava.’ He steps back. I don’t hang about. I leave him on the pavement and walk back to my office as fast as my shaky legs will carry me.
Pushing my way through the office door, I’m met by Tom and Victoria’s inquisitive faces. I must look as terrible as I feel. I hope they don’t start asking questions about Mr Ward, or about anything, actually. I think I’ll fall apart. I shake my head at them both as I make my way to my desk.
Sally walks out of the kitchen with a tray full of coffees. ‘Ava, I didn’t realise you were back. Do you want a tea or coffee?’
I want to ask her if she has any wine stored away in the kitchen, but I refrain. ‘No, thank you, Sal.’ I murmur, earning me a what-the-hell-is-going-on look from Tom and Victoria.
I focus my full attention on my computer screen, trying to ignore the ache dwelling deep inside me. Jesse has some serious issues with control – or power, as he calls it. I can’t do this – I can’t expose myself to guaranteed heartbreak. That’s exactly where this is heading.
My mobile rings and I’m grateful for the distraction from my turmoil. It’s Mr Van Der Haus. Is he back? ‘Hello?’
His light Danish accent rolls down the telephone. ‘Hello, Ava. How did you find The Life Building? Ingrid has advised me your meeting went very well.’
He’s ringing from Denmark to ask me this? Could it not wait until he’s back? ‘Yes, very well.’ I don’t know what else to say.
‘I do hope that lovely little head of yours is swimming with ideas. I’m looking forward to meeting upon my return to the UK.’
He’s called me from Denmark. He’s referring to my head as pretty. Oh, please don’t bless me with another inappropriate client. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with the one I’ve got.
‘Yes, I got your email too. I’ll have some schemes ready for you.’ I’ve practically finished the mood boards and drawings. It just came to me all of a sudden – at a moment when my brain wasn’t consumed with a certain other client.
‘Excellent! I shall be back in London next Friday. Can we meet?’
‘Yes, of course. Any particular day?’
‘I will have Ingrid contact you. She arranges my diary.’
I pout to myself. How lovely to have one person dedicated to organising your life. I would benefit from one of those at the moment. ‘Okay, Mr Van Der Haus.’