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)
Ava’s mother’s eyes bug a little. “Excused.”
And her father’s eyes climb my body to my face. “You’re quite an impressive specimen, aren’t you?” he says dryly, and I laugh, while Ava’s mother gasps.
“Jesse Ward.” I extend my hand.
“Joseph O’Shea.” He accepts, giving it a firm shake. “And this is Elizabeth.”
“Pleasure.”
“Please, sit.” He motions to a chair next to him, and I lower to it. All eyes on me. “Coffee?”
“Sure.” I wave a waiter over and order the first thing that rolls off my tongue. “Cappuccino, please. No chocolate.” I frown at myself.
“Oh, that’s Ava’s go-to.” Elizabeth smiles. She’s far warmer in person than she was on the phone. “I’ll have a latte, please, and Joseph will have a flat white.” She hands the waiter the menu on a smile and looks straight at me. “So, what do you do, Jesse?”
I own the most elite, exclusive sex club in the British Isles. I’m clearing my throat again, resting my elbows on the table. “I own a hotel.”
They both sit back, interested. “Here in London?” Elizabeth asks, and I just know she’s also silently asking how much that must be worth.
“In The Surrey Hills, actually. It’s a manor. Been in the family for many years.”
“A manor?” She looks at Joseph, seeing his reaction. He doesn’t have one. He’s a quiet man. Only speaks when he has something worthwhile to say. I like him. Elizabeth? She’s high-maintenance. Endearing, but I can tell she’s going to have an opinion on a lot. It’s fine. I’ll humor her, so long as she humors me.
“So how did you meet Ava?” Joseph asks, turning slightly in his chair, not facing me, but making sure I know I have his attention. I expect he vies for attention a lot when his wife’s around.
The waiter returns with our coffees and I smile my thanks, stirring. “She designed my penthouse.”
Ava’s mother’s cup clangs. “You have a penthouse too?”
“Elizabeth,” Joseph sighs.
“I’m just getting the facts, Joseph.”
I smile into my cup as I take a sip. “I have a penthouse too,” I confirm.
“You’re wealthy.”
“Jesus Christ,” Joseph breathes, shaking his head. “You’ll have to excuse my wife.”
“Loaded.” I don’t beat around the bush, and Ava’s dad laughs at my candid reply. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but you’re here to find out as much as possible about the man your daughter has moved in with, and time isn’t exactly on our side.” So let us get to the point. I lean forward, serious, looking between them. “I love your daughter. I don’t know what you need from me to prove my intentions are honorable, but whatever that is, I’ll give it to you.”
“I’d ask if you can look after her,” Joseph says, laughing. “But that’s been proven.”
I inwardly flinch, seeing the mess of Ava’s back in my mind. Seeing her in a hospital bed. “It would be easier to look after her if she didn’t insist she doesn’t need looking after.”
“Ha!” Joseph looks at his wife. “Not like her mother then.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.”
“Elizabeth doesn’t mind being kept at all, do you, darling?”
She scowls. “You’re a traditional man, Joseph. Don’t tell me you don’t like me being at home keeping the house, raising the children.”
“Our children left home years ago.”
“You want me to get a job now?” She looks plain horrified.
“God, no. You’re too busy with you endless ladies’ lunches.”
I chuckle, and Joseph looks at me out the corner of his eye with a small smile. I really like him. Traditional. “I will look after Ava, Mr. O’Shea.”
“Joseph, please. Call me Joseph.”
“Joseph,” I say, looking at Ava’s mother. She nods. Elizabeth it is.
“So Ava’s moved in with you,” Joseph says, turning his coffee cup.
“Made sense, since she doesn’t have her own place and I have . . . well, two.”
“A hotel and a penthouse,” Elizabeth says quietly, so obviously mentally calculating how much that must equate to.
“Everything I have is hers.”
“Everything?” she asks.
Heart, body, soul, and money. But we all know Elizabeth is talking about money when she says everything. “I don’t need money,” I tell them. “I need your daughter. I’ve spent many years alone, lonely, getting unsolicited attention that money brings. All I want is Ava, so if I had to give away every penny I have, I would if it meant I could just keep her.”
“Don’t do that,” Elizabeth blurts, and then recoils, as if she can’t quite believe she’s said it. Joseph shakes his head in despair. “I mean, it’s not necessary.”
I smile down at my cup. “She’s my world. I don’t know how else I can express that.”
“You don’t need to.” She swoons, hand on chest and all. If only her daughter was as reciprocating.
I look at Ava’s dad. His eyebrows are high, as if he knows what’s coming. “Joseph, I . . .” My eyes fall to my coffee and dart. How the fuck do I ask this?