Beneath This Man

Beneath This Man by Jodi Ellen Malpas


It's been five days since I have seen Jesse Ward. Five days of agony, five days of emptiness and five days of sobbing. There is nothing left in me. No emotion, no soul and no tears  -  nothing.

Every time my eyes close he's there, the images flickering from the sure, confident, beautiful man who completely took me, to the hollow, hurtful, drunken creature who has destroyed me. I'm at a complete loss. Empty and incomplete. He made me need him, and now he's gone.

In the darkness I see his face and in the silence I hear his voice. There is no escaping it. I'm unaware of the activity around me, every noise a distant hum, every image a slow blur. I'm in Hell. Empty. Incomplete. I'm in absolute agony.

I left Jesse drunk and raging at his penthouse last Sunday. I've not heard from him since that day I walked out, leaving him yelling and stumbling around. There have been no phone calls, no messages, no flowers...nothing.

Sam is still a regular, semi naked presence at Kate's, but he knows better than to talk to me about Jesse. He keeps quiet and well away from me. I must be painful to be around at the moment. How can a man who I've known a few short weeks' make me feel like this? In those short few weeks' I have known him, though, I've learnt that he is intense, hot-blooded and controlling, but he is also gentle, affectionate and protective. I miss him so much, but I do not miss the drunken, hollow man who I was confronted with the last time I saw him. That was not the Jesse who I had fallen in love with. That brief time of trading insults, though, did not even come close to eradicating the few weeks before that nightmare Sunday of just me and him. I would gladly take all of his frustrating, challenging ways over the ugliness that was Jesse drunk. Strangely, I miss those infuriating traits too.

I've not even thought about The Manor and what it represents. That has almost paled into insignificance. Apparently, Jesse falling off the wagon was my entire fault. He advised me, on a slur, that he had warned me there would be damage if I left. He had. He just didn't explain what sort of damage or why. It was another one of his enigmatic brainteasers that he never elaborated on. I should have pressed for more, but I was too busy being swallowed up by him. I was distracted from everything, blinded by lust and drowning in his intensity. He completely consumed me. I never anticipated he was Lord of the Sex Manor, and I certainly never anticipated he was an alcoholic. I was literally walking around with my eyes wide shut.

I'm lucky that I've managed to avoid any pressing questions from Patrick regarding Mr Ward's project. When one hundred thousand pounds landed in Rococo Union's bank account, courtesy of Mr Ward, I was immensely grateful. With so much money paid up front, I could fob Patrick off with an imaginary business trip that's keeping Mr Ward out of the country and the project on hold. I know I'll have to deal with this eventually, I just don't feel strong enough at the moment, and I'm not sure when I will. Perhaps never.

Poor Kate has tried so hard to pull me out of the black hole that I've put myself in. She's tried to occupy me with yoga classes, drinks at the pub and cake decorating, but I'm happier festering in my bed. And she meets me without fail every lunchtime. Not that I eat anything. It's hard enough to swallow, without trying to get food past the permanent lump that's wedged in my throat.

The only thing I look forward to at the moment is my morning walk. I'm not sleeping, so dragging myself out of bed at five o'clock every morning is relatively easy.

In the quiet, morning fresh air, I make my way to the spot in The Green Park where I collapsed with exhaustion the morning Jesse dragged me around the streets of London on one of his torturous marathons. I sit quietly, picking at the dew coated blades of grass until my backside is numb and sodden and I'm ready to wander back slowly to prepare myself for another day without Jesse.

How long can I go on like this?

My brother, Dan, is back in London tomorrow after visiting my parents in Cornwall. I should be looking forward to seeing him, it's been six months since I last did, but where am I going to find the energy to put on a front? With the added benefit of Matt's friendly little phone call to my Mum, informing her that I was seeing another man, I'm facing interrogation. I told my mother it wasn't true  -  it was true at the time, not now  -  but I know my Mum well enough to know she didn't believe me, even when I'm on the other end of a phone and she can't see me twiddling my hair. What would I tell them? That I have fallen in love with a man and I don't know how old he is? He owns a sex club and, oh yes, he's an alcoholic. I've not helped myself by not making the trip to see them, my work excuse pitiful, and I fully expect the third degree from Dan when I see him tomorrow. I need to prepare myself for his questioning. It's going to be the grilling of my life.

My mobile blurts from my desk, dragging me from my daydreams and tapping pen. It's Ruth Quinn. I inwardly groan. This woman is proving to be a challenge herself. She rang on Tuesday and demanded an appointment for the same day, and I explained that I was busy and suggested someone else may be able to make it, but she insisted she wanted me. She eventually settled for my first appointment, which happened to be today, and she has since called every day to remind me. I should just ignore it, but she will only call the office.

'Miss Quinn.' I greet tiredly.

'Ava, how are you?'

She always asks, which is nice, I suppose. I won't tell her the truth. 'I'm good. And you?'

'Yes, yes, fine,' she chirps. 'I just wanted to check our appointment.'

And there you go. She's so demanding. I think I might be pricing myself out of this job. 'Four thirty, Miss Quinn.' I reiterate, for the third consecutive day.

'Lovely, I look forward to it.'

'Great, see you then.' I hang up and blow out a long, calming breath of air. What was I thinking ending my Friday on a new client, and a difficult one at that?

Victoria comes breezing into the office, her long, blonde locks fanning over her shoulders. She looks different. She looks orange! 'What have you done?' I ask, completely alarmed. I know I'm not seeing particularly clearly at the moment, but there's no ignoring the tone of her skin.

She rolls her eyes and retrieves her compact mirror from her Mulberry to inspect her face. 'Don't!' she warns. 'I asked for bronzed.' She scrubs at her face with a tissue. 'The stupid woman used the wrong bottle. I look like a cheese puff!' She continues to scrub her face while huffing and puffing.

'You need to get yourself some body scrub and head for the shower.' I advise, turning back to my computer.

'I can't believe this is happening to me!' she cries. 'Drew is taking me out tonight. He'll run a mile when he sees me like this!'

'Where are you going?' I ask.

'Langan's. I'll be mistaken for a Z lister. I can't go like this.'

This is a complete catastrophe for Victoria. She and Drew have only been seeing each other for a week, another relationship off the back of my cluster f*ck of a life. All I need now is for Tom to walk in and declare he's getting married. Selfishly, I'm not happy for anyone.

Sally, our general office dogsbody, comes scuttling out of the kitchen and stops in her tracks when she spies Victoria. 'Wow! Victoria, are you okay?' she asks, and I smile to myself as Sally gives me an alarmed look. All of this beautification stuff goes straight over our plain Sal's head.

'Fine!' Victoria snaps.

Sally retreats to the safety of the stationary cupboard, escaping a very riled Victoria and an even more miserable me.

'Where's Tom?' I ask in an attempt to distract Victoria from her fake tan crisis.

She slams her compact mirror down on her desk and swings around to face me. If I had the energy, I would laugh. She looks terrible. 'He's at Mrs Baines. It would appear the nightmare continues.' she huffs, ruffling her blonde locks around her face.

I leave Victoria and her glowing face, returning to staring numbly at my computer screen. I can't wait for the day to end so I can crawl into my bed where I don't have to see, speak or interact with anyone.

As four o'clock strikes, I shut down my computer and leave the office to head for Miss Quinn's.

I arrive at a stunning town house on Lansdowne Crescent on time, and Miss Quinn answers the door. I'm completely stunned. Her voice doesn't match her appearance in the slightest. I had her down as a middle aged spinster, piano teacher type, but I couldn't have been further from the mark. She's very attractive, with long blonde hair, big blue eyes and smooth pale skin, and she is wearing a lovely black dress with killer wedges.

She smiles. 'You must be Ava. Please, come in.' She directs me through to a horrendous seventies throwback kitchen.

'Miss Quinn, my portfolio.' I hand her my file, and she takes it keenly. She has a really warm smile. Maybe I got her all wrong.

'Please, call me Ruth. I've heard a lot about your work, Ava,' she says as she flicks through the file. 'Lusso, especially.'

'Oh, you have?' I sound surprised, but I'm not. Patrick has been delighted by the response Rococo Union has gotten from the publicity of Lusso. I would prefer to forget about all things Lusso, but that doesn't seem likely.

'Yes, of course! Everyone's talking about it. You did an amazing job. Would you like a drink?'

'A coffee would be good, thank you.'

She smiles and sets about making drinks. 'Please, sit down, Ava.'

I take a seat and pull out my client briefing folder, making a note of her name and address at the top. 'So, what can I help you with, Ruth?'

She laughs and waves the teaspoon around in the general direction of the room. 'Need you ask? It's hideous, isn't it?' she exclaims, returning to coffee making duties.

Yes, actually, it is, but I'm not about to gasp in horror at the brown and yellow arrangement with faux brick walls.

She continues, 'Obviously, I'm looking for some ideas to transform this monstrosity. I was thinking of knocking through and making it a large family room. Here, I'll show you.' She hands me a coffee and signals for me to follow her through to the next room.

The decor is equally as grim as the kitchen. She seems quite young  -  mid-thirties, perhaps  -  so I'm guessing she's not long moved in. This place doesn't look like it has been touched with a paintbrush in forty years.

After an hour of discussions, I'm confident that I know what Ruth is trying to achieve. She has good vision.

She walks me to the front door. 'I will draft a few designs in line with your budget and ideas, and get them to you with a schedule of my fees,' I tell her as I'm leaving. 'Is there anything in particular I should allow for?'

'No, not at all. Obviously, I want all the basic luxuries you would expect to find in a kitchen.' She puts her hand out and I take it politely. 'A wine fridge.' She laughs.

'Absolutely.' I smile tightly, the mention of alcohol making my blood run cold. 'I'll be in touch, Miss Quinn.'

'Ruth, please!' she shakes her head. 'I look forward to it, Ava.'

'Of course, Ruth.' I leave Miss Quinn, relieved that I've fulfilled all necessary pleasantries, for now, anyway  -  until I meet my brother tomorrow.

I drag myself down the street towards Kate's house, hoping she's not home so I can retreat to my room before she resumes mission perk-Ava-up.

'Ava!'

I stop and see Sam hanging out of his car window as he cruises slowly beside me. 'Hey, Samuel.' I say on a strained smile as I carry on walking.

'Ava, please don't join your evil friend in the piss-Sam-off club. I might be forced to move out.' He parks up and gets out of his Porsche, meeting me on the pavement outside Kate's house.

He looks his usual laidback self, with ridiculously baggy shorts, a Rolling Stones t-shirt and his mousey brown hair a disheveled mess.

'I'm sorry. Have you moved in permanently now?' I ask on an arched brow. Sam has his own swanky apartment on Hyde Park with much more room, but with Kate's workshop on the ground floor of her house, she insists on him staying at hers.

'No, I haven't. Kate said you would be home by six. I was hoping to catch you.' He suddenly looks all nervous which is making me feel extremely uncomfortable.

'Is everything okay?' I ask.

He offers a little smile, but it doesn't reach his dimple. 'Not really. Ava, I need you to come with me.' he says quietly.

'Where?' Why is he acting so shifty? This is not like Sam. He is usually so carefree and unapologetic.

'To Jesse's place.'

Sam must see the look of horror on my face because he steps towards me with a pleading expression. Just the mention of his name sends me into panic. Why does he want me to go to Jesse's? After our last meeting, you would have to drag me there kicking and screaming. There is no chance in Hell I'm returning to that place  -  not ever.

'Sam, I don't think so.' I take a step back, shaking my head. My body has started shaking too.

He sighs and scuffs his trainers on the pavement. 'Ava, I'm getting worried. He's not answering his phone and no one has heard from him. I don't know what else to do. I know you don't want to talk about him, but it's been nearly five days'. I've been to Lusso, but the concierge refuses to let us up. He'll let you. Kate said you know him. Can't you just get us up there? I just need to know he's okay.'

'No, Sam. I'm sorry, I can't.' I croak.

'Ava, I'm worried he's done something stupid. Please.'

My throat starts to close up and Sam starts walking towards me with his hands outstretched. I didn't realise I was moving backwards. 'Sam, please don't. I can't do that. He won't want to see me and I don't want to see him.'

He grabs my hands to halt my retreat, pulling me into his chest and holding me tight against him. 'Ava, I wouldn't ask, I really wouldn't, but I need to get up there and check on him.'

My shoulders droop, defeated in his embrace, and a quiet sob escapes, just when I thought there were no tears left. 'I can't see him, Sam.'

'Hey,' He pulls back and looks at me. 'Just get us past the concierge. That's all I'm asking.' He wipes away a stray tear and smiles pleadingly.

'I'm not going in.' I affirm, my stomach a knot of panic at the thought of seeing him again. But what if he has done something stupid.

'Ava, just get us up to his penthouse.'

I nod and wipe away the rolling tears.

'Thank you,' He tugs me towards his Porsche. 'Get in. Drew and John are meeting us there.' He opens the passenger door and directs me into the car.

With John and Drew meeting us there, he must have assumed I would agree. I can't blame the guy for being optimistic.

I climb in and let Sam drive me to Lusso at St Katherine Docks  -  a place I swore that I would never return to again.

As Lusso comes into view, I start hyperventilating. The overwhelming desire to open the door and jump out of Sam's moving car is hard to resist. He glances at me, an obvious anxious look on his cute face, as if he senses my intention to bolt.

Once we're parked outside the gates, Sam comes around to collect me, keeping a firm grip on me as he guides us towards the pedestrian gates where Drew is waiting.

He's dressed in his usual finery, all suited and booted, with perfectly styled black hair, but he doesn't make me feel uncomfortable anymore. I'm more than shocked when he takes over Sam's hold of me, though, pulling me into him and squeezing me hard. This is the first actual contact I've ever had with the man. To say he was stand-offish would be a major understatement.

'Ava, thank you for coming.' he says, holding me in his tight clinch.

I say nothing because I really don't know what to say. They're truly worried about Jesse, and I feel guilty and even more anxious now. He releases me and offers a small, reassuring smile. It does nothing to reassure me, though.

Sam points up the road. 'Here's the big guy.'

We turn to see John pull up in his black Range Rover, skidding to an abrupt halt behind Sam's car. He slides his big body out, removes his wraparound sunglasses and nods in greeting. This is John's usual wordless acknowledgment. Good Lord he looks pissed. I've only ever got a brief glimpse of his eyes - they are always concealed behind those glasses, even at night or inside, but the sun is shining now, so why he has taken them off is beyond me. Maybe he wants everyone to know how pissed he is. It's working. He looks formidable.

I take a deep breath and punch the gate code in, pushing it open for the guys. I wish this was as far as I had to go. Drew gestures for me to lead the way, ever the gentleman, so I pick my feet up and start my walk across the car park in silence. I see Jesse's car and notice his window is still smashed. My stomach flips. We enter the marble foyer of Lusso quietly, except for the thumping of our footsteps. My insides start churning, my breathing speeding up. So much has happened in this place. Lusso was my first major accomplishment in design. My first sexual encounter with Jesse happened here, as did my final encounter with him. It all started and ended here.

Clive looks up from his big, curved marble desk as we approach, his expression screaming tiresome.

'Clive,' I say on a forced smile.

He eyes me, and then the three ominous beings accompanying me before his eyes settle on me again. 'Hello, Ava. How are you?'

'I'm good, Clive.' I lie. I am far from good. 'You?'

'Yes, I'm fine.' He's weary, no doubt after having a few heated encounters with the three men escorting me, and judging by his cold reception towards me, they were not pleasant.

'Clive, I would be grateful if you would let us up to the penthouse to check on Jesse.' I load my voice with lashings of confidence, but I feel anything but. My heart is speeding up by the second.

'Ava, I have told your friends here, I could lose my job if I allow that.' He flicks a cautious gaze to the boys' again.

'I know, Clive, but they're worried.' I say, sounding completely detached. 'They just want to check he's okay, and then they'll be leaving.' I try with graciousness as I know Drew, Sam and John would have been a lot less than that.

'Ava, I have been up and knocked on Mr Ward's door and got no response. We've checked some of the CCTV, and I have not seen him leave or return on my watch. Security cannot check five days of continuous footage. I have told your friends this. If I let you up, it's more than my job is worth.'

I'm stunned at Clive's sudden turnabout in concierge etiquette. If only he had been this professional and stubborn when I came to see Jesse on Sunday, then we might never have had the altercation we did. But then I would still be blissfully unaware of Jesse's little problem.

I feel Sam press up against my back. 'Let us up, for f*ck sake!' he yells over my shoulder.

I flinch slightly, but I can't blame him for being frustrated. I'm feeling pretty frustrated myself. I just want to get them past Clive and go. I can feel the walls closing in on all sides of me. I can see Jesse carrying me across the marble floor in his arms. All of the images swamping my brain are now all the more clearer for being here.

I turn and see John with a face like thunder and his hand on Sam's shoulder, his way of telling Sam to calm down. I didn't want to do this, but tempers are fraying. 'Clive, I would hate to resort to blackmail.' I say tightly, turning back to face him. He looks at me in confusion, and I can see his brain ticking over, trying to think of what I could possibly blackmail him with. 'I would hate for anyone to find out about Mr Gomez's regular visitors, or Mr Holland's aversion to a Thai girl or two.' I watch as Clive's face screws up into a contortion of defeatism.

'Ava, you play nasty, my girl.'

'You leave me no other choice, Clive.' I spit.

He shakes his head and motions us on to the elevator while muttering insults under his breath.

'Brilliant!' Sam chants as they make their way over to the penthouse lift.

I don't have any idea how it happens, but I find my feet lifting and taking small steps behind them, following them to the elevator. 'Jesse might have changed the code.' I say to their backs.

Sam swings around, looking alarmed.

I shrug. 'If he has, then there is no way of getting up there.'

All of a sudden, I'm stood in front of the elevator, taking a deep breath and punching in the developer code. There's a chorus of exhales as the doors open and they all get in. I stand on the outside and look up at Sam, and he smiles, jerking his head mildly, encouraging me to board with them.

I do.

I get in the elevator, Sam and Drew flanking me on one side, John on the other. I enter the code again. We travel up in an uncomfortable silence, and as the lift doors open, we're faced with the double doors that lead into Jesse's penthouse.

Sam is the first to exit the lift, striding towards the doors and jiggling the handle calmly before he starts hammering on the door like a madman. 'Jesse! Open the f*cking door!'

Drew and John approach and pull him away, and then John tries the door himself, but it doesn't budge. I can't help but think I might have been the last person to exit the penthouse. I remember making a point of slamming the door as hard as I could.

'Sam, mate, he might not even be here.' Drew soothes.

'Where the hell is he then?' Sam yells.

'Oh, he's in there,' John rumbles. 'And the mother f*cker has been drowning in his sorrows for too long now. He's got a business to run.'

I'm still stood in the elevator when the doors start to shut, snapping me out of my dazed state. My natural reflex has my arm flinging up to stop them closing before I step out into the penthouse foyer. I know I said that I would get them up here and leave, I know I should just go, but seeing Sam in such a state has me even more worried, and John's words are prickling me. Drowning in his sorrows or drowning in vodka? If I stay, am I going to be faced with drunken, raging Jesse again?

Drew knocks on the door calmly. It's laughable. If Sam's relentless hammering doesn't get a response, then I doubt Drew's gentlemanly tapping will.

He steps away from the door and drags Sam over to me. 'Ava, have you tried calling him?' Drew asks.

'No!' I blurt. Why would I do that? I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to talk to me.

'Can you try?' Sam asks pleadingly.

I shake my head. 'He wouldn't answer, Sam.'

'Ava, will you just try?' Drew pushes.

I reluctantly get my phone from my bag and pull up my contact list, dialing Jesse and holding my phone to my ear while Sam and Drew watch nervously. I'm not sure what on earth I'm going to say if he answers.

Drew's head snaps towards the door. 'I can hear it ringing.' He returns to me, obviously waiting for me to speak down the line, but it goes to voicemail. My heart constricts. He doesn't want to talk to me. I go to re-board the elevator, the hurt enflamed by his rejection of my call, but then an almighty crash sounds out around the foyer.

Sam, Drew and I all whip our heads around to the double doors leading into Jesse's penthouse and find John on the other side, surrounded by a splintered doorframe. He nods at us, and Sam and Drew fly forward into the penthouse. I follow tentatively behind them and the only thoughts going through my mind are of my last discovery here. Why am I walking this way?

Turn around! Get in the elevator! Go, NOW.

But I don't. I stand in the doorway and from what I can see, nothing has moved. Everything still seems to be in place. I step a little bit further into the open area and hear the guys running around upstairs and down, searching for Jesse, and as the bottom of the stairs comes into view, I notice the empty bottle of vodka is still on the console table. Then I see the terrace doors wide open. I take cautious steps towards them, still hearing the guys running around the penthouse, doors opening and closing, his name being called.

I, however, am being pulled towards the terrace. I know why. It's the same magnetism that pulls me towards Jesse every time he is near, except do I want to see what is beyond the threshold of those doors? I know it won't be my Jesse. Do I want to face him again when he is in such a terrible state, when he is so vicious and hateful? No, of course I don't, but I can't seem to turn away either.

As I approach the doors, I try to prepare my eyes for a drunken mess, sprawled across one of the sun loungers, clenching a vodka bottle, but instead, I'm greeted by Jesse's naked, unconscious body face down on the decking.

I choke on my heart and my pulse starts pounding in my ears. 'He's here!' I scream, running towards his lifeless body and throwing my bag down as I collapse by his side.

I grip his big shoulders to try and turn him over. I don't know where I get my strength from, but I manage it, yanking him over so his head is cradled in my lap. I start desperately smoothing my hands over his bearded face, noticing his hand still swollen and bruised, with dried blood all over his knuckles.

'Jesse, wake up. Please, wake up.' I plead, giving into hysteria as I look at the man I love, unconscious and non-responsive, lying in my lap. Tears pour down my face and spill onto his cheeks. 'Jesse, please.' I desperately run my hands over his face, his chest, his hair. He looks hollow, he's lost weight and his jaw is covered in a week's worth of stubble.

'Mother f*cker.' John rumbles when he finds me on the terrace with Jesse supported in my lap.

'I don't know if he's breathing.' I sob, looking up through glazed eyes to the mountain of a man stalking towards me. Why haven't I checked this yet? It's the first rule in first aid. I grab his wrist, but my shaking hands won't allow me to maintain a stable hold to establish a pulse.

'Here,' John gestures, kneeling down and taking Jesse's arm from me.

I look up and see Sam skid to a halt at the door. 'What the...'

Tears are invading me eyes uncontrollably and everything has gone into slow motion. Sam makes his way over and lowers himself down next to me. He starts rubbing my arm.

'I'll call an ambulance.' Drew says urgently as he finds us all crowded around Jesse's motionless form.

'Hold up,' John barks harshly, leaning over Jesse and pulling his dried lips apart, inspecting every part of his limp body. 'The stupid mother f*cker. He's drunk himself into a f*cking coma.'

I look at Sam and Drew, but I can't fathom their reactions to John's conclusion. How does he know this? He could be half dead for all John knows. He certainly looks it. 'I think we should call an ambulance.' I push between sniffles.

John looks at me sympathetically. I've never seen anything but a completely impassive expression on his hard face, so the way he is looking at me now, all sorrowful and like I'm a little naive, is strangely comforting.

'Ava, girl. I've seen him like this, more than once. He needs his bed and some care to get him through this. He doesn't need a doctor. Not that sort, anyway.' John shakes his head.

Oh? How many times is more than once? John sounds like he knows the drill. He's not at all concerned by the condition of Jesse lying in my lap, whereas I am a hysterical wreck. Sam and Drew are not all that good either. Have they seen him like this before?

John clucks my cheek and hoists himself up off the floor. I've never heard him say so much. The big, silent giant turns out to be the big, friendly giant, but I still wouldn't want to cross him.

'What happened to his hand?' Sam asks when he clocks the bloodied, bruised mess.

It really looks terrible and probably needs looking at. 'He smashed the window on his car,' I sniffle, and they all look at me. 'When we rowed at Kate's.' I add, almost ashamed.

'Should we get him into his bed?' Drew asks timidly.

'Sofa.' John instructs. We're back to a few words.

I watch as Sam gets up and collects an empty vodka bottle from under the sun lounger. He looks at it in complete disgust and dramatically smashes it on the side of a raised planter. I flinch at the loud noise that echoes around us, but more significantly, Jesse flinches too.

'Jesse?' I shake him slightly. 'Jesse, please, open your eyes.'

Sam, Drew and John all crowd around us and Jesse's arm starts to rise above his head, flapping around in thin air. I clasp it and place it back by his side, but no sooner have I released it, he brings it back up in front of my face, mumbling inaudibly and thrashing his legs about.

'He's looking for you, girl.' John says quietly.

I throw a shocked glance at John, and he nods at me. He's looking for me? I reach for his hand again and guide it to my face, spreading his palm against my cheek. He instantly calms. His cold palm on my face offers me little comfort, but it seems to soothe him, so I hold it there and let him feel me, horrified that he has, quite possibly, been out here on the terrace for days, unclothed and unconscious. It might be mild in the May daytime, but nightfall brings cooler temperatures. Why did I walk out on him? I should have stayed and calmed him down, not walk away.

'I'll go and get some bedding from upstairs.' Drew says, heading back into the penthouse.

'Shall we?' John prompts, nodding at Jesse on the floor.

I reluctantly release Jesse's hand and let Sam and John flank him on either side to coordinate a lift. As he's lifted from my lap, I pull myself up and run ahead to make sure their path is clear. I free the entire leather corner couch of a million cushions - all courtesy of me - so it looks more like a bed when I'm done.

As Drew comes down the stairs with his hands full of blankets, Sam and John wait patiently with Jesse's naked weight spread evenly between them. I take a velvet throw from Drew and lay it over the cold leather, and then move back so John and Sam can lower him onto the couch before propping his head up on some pillows and laying another throw over his naked body. I drop to my knees at his side, smoothing my hand down the side of his stubbled face.

Regret washes over me, tears starting to fall again. I could have stopped this. If I hadn't stormed out, he wouldn't be in this state now. I should have stayed, calmed him down and sobered him up. I hate myself.

'Ava, are you okay?' I hear Drew's quiet voice over my suppressed sobs, and a hand starts rubbing my back.

I sniffle and wipe my nose with the back of my hand. 'I'm fine, sorry.'

'Don't apologise.' Sam sighs.

I lean over Jesse and rest my lips on his forehead, leaving them to linger for a few seconds, and as I lift myself from the floor, his arm shoots out from under the blanket and grabs me. 'Ava?' His voice is cracked and hoarse, and his eyes open slightly, searching around the room and when they find mine, all I can see are empty pits of nothing, his usual green, addictive eyes bordering on black.

'Hey,' I place my hand over his on my arm.

He tries to lift his head from the pillow, but I don't have to reprimand him. Before I have a chance to push him back down, he gives up trying. 'I'm so sorry.' he murmurs pitifully, his hand starting to pat its way up my arm to find my face again. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...'

'Stop.' I whisper on a quivering voice, helping his hand to reach my face. 'Please, just stop.' I turn my lips into his hand and kiss his palm and when I turn to face him again, his eyes are closed. He's gone again.

I take his hand and place it on the blanket, then make sure he is tucked in well, before pulling myself up and turning to see Sam, Drew and John, all standing silently watching me tend to him. I had completely forgotten I wasn't alone with Jesse, but I'm not in the least bit embarrassed.

'I'll make some coffee.' Sam breaks the silence and heads for the kitchen, John and Drew following.

I take another glance at Jesse, my instinct wanting me to crawl onto the sofa and snuggle up to him, stroke him and soothe him. I might just do that, but first I need to talk to the guys. I follow them into the kitchen and find Sam and Drew picking up barstools and John heaving the freezer up from the floor. It wasn't like this when I left on Sunday. Jesse clearly flew into a rage.

'I've got to shoot,' Drew says regretfully, placing the last stool upright. 'I'm taking Victoria out.' He looks a little embarrassed.

'You go, bud,' Sam pushes as he hunts for the mugs. 'I'll call you later.'

'Last cupboard on the right, top shelf.' I give Sam the directions to the mugs and he turns, looking at me quizzically.