Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 897(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Very good question, Kate. The atmosphere between Ava and me has just dropped to sub-zero temperatures, and I peek out the corner of my eye, interested, seeing her eyes fixed forward. “Don’t know and no,” she says off-hand as I slow at some lights. I narrow an eye, unhappy. I’m giving her a pass for tonight. Tomorrow, we’re dealing with parents and dates. No excuses. And if she fights me, I’ll do what I’ve been silently threatening. Call them myself.
Ava, still avoiding my eyes, turns in her seat to face Kate. “Did you enjoy your evening?” she asks.
“Yes, it was fab,” Kate says, cool as can be, pouting into a small mirror.
I look at Ava. She’s scowling mildly at her friend, contemplating her next words. “What time did you wrap up?” she asks. I smile and pull away when the lights change to green.
“I can’t remember. Is there a point to this line of enquiry?”
For God’s sake, why the hell are they being so coy? “I think Ava would like to know if you enjoyed yourself upstairs after I took her home,” I say, smiling at Ava’s gaping mouth as Kate hits my shoulder.
“That, my friend,” she muses, still coy, still casual, “is none of your business. Well, it is, but it isn’t.” She chuckles, going back to her mirror. I can’t claim to know Kate very well, but I know someone who’s feigning coolness, and she’s definitely feigning coolness. What the fuck happened between those three?
The girls chit-chat about anything and nothing for the rest of the drive, and as soon as we pull up, I check to see if Jay is on the door. I spot his shiny bald head first as he steps out onto the pavement in his customary black suit. I nod as I let Kate out the back, and he nods in return, stepping aside to let Kate pass.
Ava is out of the car before I have a chance to be a gent and open her door, putting herself in front of me. “Don’t drink,” I say softly as I take her in my arms, hoping every man in the bar and beyond is watching.
“I won’t.”
She’s giving me lip service. I don’t know who of the two of us is the biggest idiot right now. Me for expecting her not to drink, or Ava for promising not to. “I mean it.”
“I won’t drink.”
“I’ll pick you up,” I tell her. “Ring me.” I swoop in and kiss her, hearing Jay snort his tiredness.
“I’ll ring you.” She looks at me with soft eyes. Pacifyingly. “Go for a run or something.” She rips the plaster off and leaves me on the pavement, feeling like she’s taken my arms and legs with her.
“Fuck me, Ward.” Jay comes over, looking up and down the car. “Where’s this paranoia come from, anyway?”
“I’m not paranoid,” I mutter, dipping into my pocket and pulling out some notes, thumbing a few off the wedge of cash. “Just reasonably concerned for her safety.”
“Like a father would be if his teenage daughter just discovered alcohol, short dresses, and male attention?”
My thumb falters, and I hit Jay with a glare. “Fuck off, Jay.” I thrust the money into his chest. “Make sure she stays safe.”
“You got it.” He tucks the money away. “Try not to worry.”
I scoff and drop into the driver’s seat, drumming the steering wheel.
Now what? My phone answers that question, an unknown London number dominating the screen on the dashboard. “Hello?” I answer, quiet and wary.
“Mr. Ward, it’s Julian from the Connaught.”
“Okay,” I say, my frown huge, no doubt. “And what can I do for you?”
“I have Mrs. Seymour here.”
“Coral?”
“Yes. She’d like to extend her stay for a few extra nights, and I need the cardholder’s authorization.”
I slump down in my seat, wincing. Fucking hell. I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place. Don’t rock the boat with Coral. But don’t upset Ava. How do I achieve both?
“Mr. Ward?”
Torn, I try to weigh up my options, feeling like I’m being held to ransom. “Fine,” I snap, agitated.
“I can charge it to the card we hold on file?”
“Yes,” I hiss. “Is she there?”
“Mrs. Seymour?”
“No, Pussy Galore.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, Mrs. Seymour, Julian. Is she there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Put her on.” I think I could burn holes through the glass of my windscreen with my hard stare.
“Hello,” Coral says, soft and unsure.
“Why did you call me this morning?” I ask shortly, starting my car and pulling away before Ava clocks me loitering outside the bar and accuses me of crowding her again.
Coral stalls, silent, shocked by my question. Because she obviously thinks Ava’s told me and is also obviously wondering what Ava said. “Your girlfriend told you?”
“No,” I say, turning into a side street and pulling over. “My fiancée did.” I am a classified dickhead. For sure.