Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
‘Who is she?’ I grate, my breathing starting to accelerate. I’m anxious and panicking, but I don’t know what about.
John sighs, defeated, yet he still doesn’t answer, instead turning his back on me. ‘It’s too late. She’s standing right here. You’d better come home.’
I hear an angry yell, and I think I catch the sound of something hitting something, like a fist on a front door—a worn, blue front door. I can feel my patience fraying. My lack of knowledge in something that I’m sensing I should know about is re-heating my frozen veins.
John hands me the phone, and I don’t delay swiping it from his hand. ‘Who is she?’ I remain calm and clear, but if I don’t get an answer, then I’ll be raging very quickly. And I already know that it’ll be the blood pressure raising kind of furious.
He’s heaving down the phone, his purposeful, thumping footsteps evident in the background. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘What do you mean?’ I’m shouting. He didn’t answer, not satisfactorily. He knows who Ruth Quinn is.
‘I’m on my way home. We’ll talk.’
‘No, tell me!’
‘Ava, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it’s her.’ he says, the screeching of tyres making me wince. That may be so, but John’s inability to whisper has screwed that plan up. ‘I’ll explain when I can sit you down.’
‘I’m not going to like this, am I?’ I don’t know why I’m asking. He wants to sit me down—not a good sign. There are no good signs, in fact. Even the big guy looks all concerned by what’s transpiring.
‘Baby, please, I need to see you.’
‘You didn’t answer my question.’ I remind him quietly, resting myself on a barstool. ‘What else could you possibly have to tell me, Jesse?’
‘I’ll be home soon.’
‘Will it make me run?’
‘I’ll be home soon.’ he repeats and hangs up, leaving me with John’s phone suspended limply by my cheek and a stomach churning with trepidation. I almost want to run right now. Uncertainty, mixed with incredible fear, is pushing me to run away, but not to escape him because the thought of being without him sears painfully on every fragment of my being. But there’s an aching pit, deep in my stomach that’s telling me I should protect myself from whatever is about to impact on my life. Our life.
The penthouse phone screeches, making me jump, and John’s thumps his heavy feet across the kitchen, now with his glasses back in place. I won’t waste my breath trying to extract any information from him, even though he has the information that I need.
He returns to the kitchen, looking too fraught for such a menacing man. Now I’m really worried. ‘I’m needed downstairs. You’ll lock the door behind me and you won’t answer it unless I call you to say it’s me. Where’s your phone?’
‘What’s happening?’ I stand, starting to shake.
‘Where’s your phone?’ he presses, taking his own from my trembling hand.
‘In my bag. John, tell me.’
He helps himself, tipping the contents of my bag out and quickly locating my mobile. He sits it neatly on the island and picks me up, placing me gently on the stool. ‘Ava, now isn’t the time to argue with me. There’s someone the concierge is suspicious of and I’m just going to check it out. It’s probably nothing.’
I don’t believe him. Nothing suggests I should; not the tone of his voice or his body language. Everything is suggesting that I should be terrified, and I’m beginning to feel it. ‘Okay,’ I agree reluctantly.
After nodding and squeezing my shoulder affectionately, he carries his big body from the kitchen, and I soon hear the front door close, leaving me still shaking and with a racing mind. I’m failing on every level to calm myself down. I just want Jesse. I don’t care what he’s got to tell me, I don’t give a damn. I clench my phone and run up the stairs to the bedroom, quickly locating the key to Jesse’s office from my underwear drawer before rushing back down and making quick work of unlocking the door. I know I’ll feel better when I’m sitting in his big office chair, like he’s wrapped around me in a sense.
I burst through the door, frenzied and out of breath, only to be met by a woman, who’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at my wall.
Ruth Quinn.
My legs buckle, making me stagger forward and my heart stops in my chest. But my dramatic entrance and gasp of shock doesn’t seem to faze her. She maintains her rapt stare, not giving me a second glance. She’s spellbound and if it wasn’t for Jesse and John’s recent words and reactions to this woman, then I would be thinking that she not only has a crush on me, but she is insanely obsessed.