Beneath This Man

'F*ck OFF!' I scream. My throat is sore, my vocal cords pleading for some calmness. I've never shouted so much. I'm shaking, trembling with fury. How dare he? How dare he behave like this after everything I've been through with him.

'Watch your f*cking mouth!' He leans in and grabs me.

I fight him off, but my strength compared to his is pathetic. He manhandles me out of Margo Junior and stands me with my back facing his front, while I persistently struggle to bat him away. He wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me clean from the ground, carrying me to his car while I kick and scream like a three year old.

'Get off me!'

'Shut your filthy mouth, Ava.' he grates, which only assists in encouraging me to fight him some more.

I'm being manhandled in the middle of Notting Hill under the observation of my best mate, her boyfriend and John. I'm mortified! I can't believe he has gone off the rails like this. I was handling it fine. I was on my way out, and then neurotic arse here rocked up and threw the shit right in the fan. I want to throw my head back and scream to the heavens.

I wriggle a little more and try and prize his arm from around my waist.

'Stop making a scene, Ava.' he warns.

Looking up, I see numerous bystanders halted in their daily business, all watching the dramatic happenings unfolding before their eyes. I give in with my struggle, but mainly because I'm thoroughly exhausted. I let him bundle me into his car, batting my arms at him when he tries to put the seatbelt on me.

He grabs my chin and tugs my face to his. 'You had better stay f*cking put!' His green eyes are brimming with fury as I stare at him defiantly before pulling my face away. I sit in the warm, black leather trying to catch my breath.

I am not going to The Manor tomorrow night and I am going to the pub on Saturday. I'm also moving out of Lusso, not that I really moved in, although Jesse would completely disagree with that.

I see him walk back over to John, Kate and Sam. They're talking, but I have no idea what about. Jesse's head drops and I see Kate place a hand on his arm. It's a reassuring gesture. She's a f*cking traitor! Why is he the one getting all of the sympathy and reassurance when I'm the one who's just been abducted by a wild f*cking maniac?

John shakes his head and clips the side of Jesse's jaw with his knuckles, but Jesse pulls back from it harshly. I lip read John's calm down and watch as Jesse walks away, throwing his arms in the air before yanking his dark blonde, disheveled hair in frustration. John shakes his head and this time I know he just said mother f*cker.

Good! This is an indication that John agrees with me. Nasty qualities, I think John said. You don't get much nastier than this. He's completely lost the plot.

I look out of the passenger window when he climbs back in the car. I'm not talking to him. He's gone too far this time. He starts the car and roars off down the road, flinging me back in my seat. His normal driving mood is frightening enough. I'm not looking forward to this journey.

'How did you know I was here?' I keep my eyes firmly on the view whizzing past my window.

I hear him wince as he takes a corner and out of my peripheral vision, I see him shake his hand. He's upset it. 'It doesn't f*cking matter.'

'It does matter,' I turn and look at his scowling profile. He's still a handsome beast. 'I was fine until you turned up.' I accuse.

He whips his head around to face me. I meet his stare with the same fierceness he's giving me. 'I'm f*cking infuriated with you. Did you kiss him?'

'No!' I shriek. 'He tried and I beat him off. I was just leaving.' My forehead muscles are aching from scowling so much.

I jump when he punches the steering wheel. 'Don't ever f*cking tell me I'm possessive and over-the-top, do you hear me?'

'You are stupidly possessive!'

'Ava, in two days I've caught two men trying to get in your knickers. God knows about the times when I've not been there.'

'Don't be stupid,' I scoff. 'You're imagining things.' I'm fully aware that he's not. He's totally right, but what I want to know is why Mikael is suddenly interested in my relationship with Jesse. 'How do you know Mikael?'

'What?' he snaps.

'You heard me.' I can tell by the disappearance of his bottom lip between his teeth that he's thinking hard about this.

'I bought the penthouse, Ava. How do you think I know him?'

'He thought it was very interesting when I told him that we had been seeing each other for a month-ish. Why would he?'

His head whips around. 'Why the f*ck are you talking to him about us?'

'I wasn't, he asked the question and I answered! Why would he think it's interesting, Jesse?' I can feel myself losing control. I look away from him, trying to take some calming breaths.

'That man wants you, trust me.'

'Why?' I shout, throwing my face in his direction again, but he refuses to look at me.

He punches the steering wheel again. 'He wants to take you away from me.'

'But why?'

'He just f*cking does!' he roars.

I jump back in my seat, shocked and unsatisfied by his vague, furious answer. This conversation will get us nowhere. He needs to calm down and so do I. I'll ask my questions when he's not looking like he may put his fist through the window.

He pulls up outside Lusso and I exit the car before he turns the engine off. I notice John pull into the car park as I enter the foyer, and I completely ignore Clive as he comes out from behind his desk. I head straight for the elevator.

I expect Jesse to stop the doors from shutting so he can get in, but he doesn't. He's obviously concluded that we both need to calm down as well.

I exit the lift and fish my pink key from the side pocket of my bag to let myself in before I slam the door behind me and chuck my bag on the floor in a temper. 'F*cking man!' I curse to myself.

'Hello.' A small voice says.

I look up and see a grey haired, middle aged woman stood in front of me. I suppose I should be concerned by this strange woman in Jesse's penthouse, but I'm too angry. 'Who the hell are you?' I blurt nastily. The woman recoils slightly and it's then I clock the can of furniture polish and duster in her hand.

'Cathy.' she says. 'I work for Jesse.'

'What?' I ask impatiently, but then the anger dominating my entire being gives way to allow that little piece of information to sink in - that and the furniture polish in her hand.

Oh shit!

The door opens behind me, and I turn to see Jesse walk in. He looks at me and then at the woman stood in front of us both. 'Cathy, you should probably get off now. I'll speak to you tomorrow.' he says calmly, but I can still detect the anger in his voice.

'Of course.' She places her polish and duster on the side table and then takes her apron off, folding it hastily, but neatly. 'I've put dinner in the oven. Give it thirty minutes.' She picks up a carpet bag from the floor and stuffs her apron in the top. God bless her, she smiles at me before leaving. It's more than I deserve. What a first impression to give.

Jesse gives her a peck on the cheek and a reassuring rub of the shoulder as she leaves. I watch her walk out into the foyer and see John and Clive transporting my bags from the elevator. That's a waste of time because I'm not staying here. I stomp into the kitchen and yank the fridge open, hoping a bottle of wine might have magically found its way in there. I'm sorely disappointed.

Slamming the fridge door, I steam out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I can't even look at him at the moment. As I enter the bedroom and slam yet another door, I stand and wonder...what now? I should just leave - give us both some space to calm down. This is too intense, too quickly. It's poisonous, crippling.

I take myself into the vast bathroom and shut the door behind me. The surroundings of this whole penthouse are more familiar than they should be. After spending months designing and coordinating the works, I feel at home. I'm probably more at home than Jesse; he's not even lived here for a month and one week of that was spent ridiculously drunk or unconscious.

I wander over to the chaise lounge in the window and gaze out across the docks. The people down below are going about their everyday business, strolling around or having an evening drink in the bars, all looking untroubled and relaxed. It's probably not the case for all of them, but in my messed up state, I selfishly think that no one else could be as troubled as me. I'm head over heels in love with a man who has the most extreme temper and challenging ways. At the other end of the spectrum, though, he's the most loving, sensitive, protective man in the universe. If John's right, and he is only like this with me, should we be together? He'll be dead by the time he's forty from heart failure, and it will be my fault. With Jesse, when times are good, they are incredible, but when they are bad, they are unbearable.

I feel damned and blessed all at once for having found him.

I sigh wearily, putting my head in my hands in desolation, feeling the tears brimming and a lump in my throat forming. I thought I was beginning to find out what I needed to know but as time goes on, it's becoming obvious that I haven't, and with Jesse keeping his lips firmly shut, evading again, it doesn't look like I'm going to find out anytime soon - unless I ask Mikael...

The door flies open and Jesse comes crashing in, looking like he's been electrocuted. He's visibly shaking and the main artery in his neck is bulging. While I've calmed significantly, he, it would seem, has not. He holds up something in his hand.

'What the F*ck is this?' He looks like he could spontaneously combust at any moment. I frown but then realise he's holding up the flight details that Patrick gave me.

Oh Jesus, I'm in for it now.

Hang on a minute. That was in my bag. 'You've been through my bag!' I'm shocked. I don't know why, he does it all the f*cking time. He doesn't look ashamed or apologetic. He just waves the paper in front of my face while his chest puffs in and out erratically.

I push past him and storm downstairs to my bag, hearing him follow me, his heavy breathing almost louder than his charging footsteps. I rip my bag from the floor and take it into the kitchen.

'What the hell are you doing?' he shouts. 'It's not in there, it's here.' He thrusts the paper under my nose as I dump my bag on the island and start rummaging through it.

I have no idea what I'm looking for.

'You are not f*cking going to Sweden or Denmark or any f*cking where, for that matter!' His voice is somewhere between anger and fear.

I look at him. Yes, there is definitely fear in there. 'Don't go through my bag.' I grind the words out through my incensed frustration and look at him accusingly.

He backs away a little and chucks the paper on the island while maintaining his infuriated glare. 'Why, what else are you hiding from me?'

'Nothing!'

'Let me tell you something, lady.' He stalks forward, getting his face right in mine. 'I will die before I let you leave the country with that womanising prick.' A wave of pure dread travels across his face.

'He won't be coming!' I shout, slamming my bag down for effect. I don't know that for sure and in actual fact, I suspect he probably will. He's got a plan and a motive. But why?

'Yes, he will. He'll follow you there, trust me. He's relentless in his pursuit of women.'

I actually laugh. 'Just like you did?'

'That was different!' he barks. He closes his eyes and lifts his fingertips to his temples to start rubbing away the tension.

'You're impossible.' I spit. I've lost the will to live.

'And what are you doing taking vitamins?' He scowls good and proper. 'You're pregnant, aren't you?'

Is he winding me up? I grab the vitamins from my bag and throw them at his head. His eyes widen as he ducks stealthily out of the way and they crash against the wall before falling to the kitchen floor. I need to regain control. I'm losing it in a big way.

'I bought the vitamins for you.' I yell, and he looks at me like I could possibly be a fruit loop. I'm close.

'Why?' He looks at the pot on the floor.

'You put your body through the mill. Have you forgotten?'

He scoffs. 'I don't need pills, Ava. I've told you.' He stalks forward and grabs my arms, pulling me close to his face. 'I am not a f*cking alcoholic. If I drink now, it will be because you make me crazy mad!' He shouts the last bit in my face.

'You blame this all on me.' I state. I'm not asking it as a question because he has already shouted it in my face.

He drops me and walks away. 'No, I don't,' His hands yank on the back of his hair in frustration. 'What else are you keeping from me? Business trips with rich Dutch men,' He glares at me. 'Cosy visits to the ex-boyfriend?'

'Cosy?' I splutter. He thinks seeing Matt was cosy? 'You stupid f*cking man!'

'MOUTH!'

'Get lost!' I shout. He really is on another planet. If he knows me as well as he claims he does, then he wouldn't be throwing such stupid insinuations around.

He throws his hands in the air in a Lord-give-me-strength gesture. 'I can't be around you right now,' he bellows. He clenches his teeth, and I see the muscles of his jaw ticking. 'I f*cking love you, Ava. So f*cking much, but I can't look at you. This is f*cked up!' He stalks out of the kitchen.

I hear the front door slam and moments later, an almighty crash. I run out to the penthouse foyer and Jesse is nowhere to be seen, but the mirrored door of the elevator is shattered into a million pieces. Through my derangement, I instantly think of what further damage he has done to his poor hand. Then, I cry. Hopeless, howl at the moon, blubbering. I feel completely helpless and out of control. I feel like I'm being tested, like he is trying me to see if I have the strength to get him through this total mess and on top of that, I'm battling with the incessant niggling thought that it's me who has made him like this. It's not healthy.

I walk back into the big open living area and see all of my bags placed in a neat row at the side of the stairs. What should I do with them? Am I staying?

I leave them and not knowing what else to do, I go and sit myself on a sun lounger on the decking area and cry to myself - loud, shoulder shaking, pouring tears crying, while I try to find some direction and guidance. I'm coming up with nothing between my relentless tears. I'm staring into space and feeling nothing but abandoned. Familiar feelings, all of which I never wanted to feel again, are flooding back into me - the empty feeling, the lost, lonely and dejected emotions that had me residing in the lowest levels of hell while Jesse wasn't in my life. How have I come to need him so much? How has this happened to me? He's walked out, and now I've got a good idea of how he felt when I did the same to him. It's not a nice feeling. I feel like a massive part of me is missing.

It is.

The thought of him not being around makes my heart jump into my throat, makes my breath hitch and panic attack me. This is hopeless. I take myself back into the penthouse, upstairs to the master-suite and have a shower. I stand under the sprays of water absentmindedly soaping myself. Everywhere I turn, I see us - me and Jesse on the vanity unit, against the wall, on the floor, in the shower. We're everywhere.

I get out, suddenly needing to escape the reminders of our intimacies. I flop on the bed, but soon shoot back up into a sitting position, panic invading my entire being. The times we have been apart he's had a drink. Will he have a drink now? My hearts starts a painful gallop in my chest, working its way up to my mouth. The thought of Jesse mixed with alcohol is enough to have me dashing down to the kitchen to get my phone.

As I enter the kitchen, I get a waft of something smelling really good. Oh! I run to the oven and turn it off, grab my phone and dial John.

His low rumble seeps down the phone after the first ring. 'He's here, Ava.'

'The Manor?' I'm so relieved but at the same time, I wonder what he's doing there.

'Yeah,' John sounds regretful. It makes me straighten up.

'Should I come?' I don't know why I'm asking. I'm on my way back up the stairs to get dressed.

He hums down the phone. 'Probably, girl. He went straight to his office.'

I hang up and scrape my wet hair up before shoving my discarded work clothes back on. My car keys. Jesse hasn't given me my car keys back. I fly downstairs and dive into the boxes of my belongings, praying I'll find the spare set. Eventually, I lay my hands on them.

I get to the smashed elevator and punch the code in, at the same time thinking that Clive won't be happy. Since I've been here, the maintenance bill must have gone through the roof.

I run through the foyer in my heels and notice Clive knelt down behind his desk. I swiftly pass him without a word. I've no time for him this evening. The poor man will wonder what he has done to upset me.

'Ava!' I hear him yell after me. I wouldn't stop, but it sounds like something is seriously wrong. Maybe the mystery woman has been back.

'What's up Clive?'

He runs towards me in a panic. 'You can't go!'

What's he talking about?

'Mr Ward,' he pants. 'He said you mustn't leave Lusso. He was very insistent.'

He what? 'Clive, I haven't time for this.' I carry on my way, but he grasps my arm.

'Please, Ava. I'll have to call him.'

I don't believe this. He's got the concierge performing prisoner guard duties now? 'Clive, it's not your job to do this,' I point out. 'Please, let go of my arm.'

'Well, I did say as much myself, but Mr Ward can be very insistent.'

'How much, Clive?'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' he says quickly, re-arranging his hat with his spare hand. He couldn't look guiltier if he tried.

I pull my arm free from Clive's grasp and walk over to the concierge desk. 'Where do you keep Mr Ward's numbers?' I ask, scanning the hi-tech display screens in front of me. I notice Clive's mobile sat on the desk too.

Clive walks over with a befuddled look on his face. 'It's all linked to the phone through the system. Why do you ask?'

'Do you have Mr Ward's number on your mobile?' I ask.

'No Ava, It's all pre-programmed into the system. Resident's confidentiality and all.

'Good.' I yank out the wires leading from the phone system to the computer and drop them in a tangled mess to the floor where they meet Clive's jaw.

I hear the poor old boy's shocked mumbling on my way out and feel a small pang of guilt. That will be yet another repair bill falling on the doormat of the penthouse.

I jump in my car and instantly notice a little black device on the dashboard. I know what that is. I press the button and, like I knew they would, the gates to Lusso start opening.

The whole way to The Manor, I pray repeatedly that I'm not going to find Jesse with a drink in his hand. This will be the first time I've been back since my discovery of its offered activities, but my need to see Jesse is overriding any nerves or reluctance I have.

I pull up to the gates and press the intercom. John's gruff rumble comes over the speaker and I wave at the camera, but the gates are already opening. I start the long drive up the gravel driveway towards The Manor and as I pull up into the circle courtyard, I look up at the limestone house, looming centrally and seemingly screaming out loud what goes on behind those doors.

I pull in next to Jesse's car and quickly check my face in the rear view mirror. Considering the events of the last few hours, the last few weeks actually, I don't look too bad.

John opens the door before I reach it and offers me a small, reassuring smile. It goes nowhere near making me feel any better.

We walk into the imposing entrance hall together and past the stairs, restaurant and bar. I hear chatter and laughter, but I don't bother looking. I've seen it all before, except now I know why they're all here.

'Has he calmed down?' I ask as we reach the summer room. There are people scattered around the seating areas, drinking and talking, probably discussing what the evening could have in store for each of them. I'm assaulted by a dozen inquisitive stares, and I tense all over. Did they see Jesse raging?

'Damn, girl, you affect that mother f*cker.' John laughs to himself, giving me a glimpse of that illusive gold tooth.

I let out a rush of breath in agreement, but he affects me too. Does John realise that? 'My man is challenging.' I muse.

John looks over at me and flashes one of his knock out, rare, all white and gold teeth smiles. 'Challenging? That's a word. I call him a f*cking pain in the arse. I've got to admire his determination, though.'

'Determination?' I feel my brow knit. 'Determination to be challenging?' I quip.

John stops as we reach Jesse's office. 'I've never seen him so determined to live.'

I suddenly want to go back to the beginning of our walk to Jesse's office so we can continue with this conversation. 'What do you mean by that?' I can't help the confusion in my tone. That little statement has me really very confused. I can't see any determination to live. All I see is determination to give himself a seizure with stress. He's self-destructible.

My breath hitches in my throat.

He's self-destructible. Jesse has said that before - when he took me on his bike, he said that. What did he mean?

'Trust me, it's a good thing.' John looks at me affectionately. 'Be easy on him.'

'How long have you known him, John?' I want to keep him talking.

'Long enough, girl. I'll leave you to it.' He takes his mountain of a body and strides off down the corridor.

'Thanks, John.' I say to his back.

'S'all good, girl. S'all good.'

I stand outside Jesse's office with my hand hovering over the doorknob. John's unexpected and volunteered information, albeit vague, has pricked my curiosity more. Was he really self-destructible? My mind is racing with thoughts of alcohol, dabbling, lack of leathers and scars. I turn the handle and walk, with caution, into Jesse's office.

I'm immediately insulted by what I see. Jesse is sat in his big office chair facing Sarah, who is perched on the corner of his desk. The woman is a leech. A thud of possessiveness slaps me in the face, but it's the bottle of vodka sat on Jesse's desk that has me more fretful. I can fight off unwanted female attention, as long as it's unwanted. The vodka is another matter entirely.

They look up at me in unison, and she flashes me a fake, insincere smile. Then I notice a bag of ice resting on Jesse's hand. I was right to have a touch of the green eyed monster. They look, in Jesse's words, very cosy.

Now there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these two have had a sexual relationship. It's written all over her face. I feel sick, jealous and dangerously possessive.

The brazen interloper makes no attempt to shift her toned arse off Jesse's desk. She just sits there, relishing in the obvious tension her presence is causing, but it's the impostor in clear bottle form that I'm more threatened by. I can deal with her. I'm in no mood for silly games with ex-sexual conquests.

I look at Jesse, and he meets my gaze. He's still in his charcoal trousers, but the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up. His dirty blonde hair is a glorious mess on top of his beautiful head, but despite him in all of his loveliness, he looks fearful and uneasy. I don't blame him. I've just walked in on him looking cosy with another woman and with a bottle of the evil stuff in front of him. It's my worst nightmares wrapped into one.

He slowly turns his chair with his feet, away from the interloper and towards me.

'Have you had a drink?' My voice is even and strong. I feel anything but.

He shakes his head. 'No.' he answers in a quiet voice.

I'm uncertain whether his voice is small because of the woman or because of the vodka. He drops his head slightly, and the silence is awkward, but then Sarah rests a hand on Jesse's arm and I want to dive on the desk and yank her hair out. Jesse flinches and snaps his eyes to mine.

Who the f*ck does she think she is? I'm not naive enough to believe that she is trying to be a supportive friend. 'Do you mind?' I look directly at her so there's no mistaking who I'm talking to.

She looks up at me questioningly, but makes no attempt to remove her hand from Jesse. I'm suddenly furious with myself for allowing another woman the opportunity to comfort him, especially this woman. That's my job. Jesse pulls his arm away and her hand falls to the desk.

'Excuse me?' she splutters, which only serves to f*ck me off more.

'You heard me.' I flash her a don't-f*ck-with-me glare and she smirks an almost undetectable smirk. She knows that I know her game. That should make our relationship a lot easier.

Jesse flicks his eyes nervously between the two women having a stand-off in his office. God bless him, he's keeping his mouth firmly shut, but then the cheeky bitch only leans down and kisses him on the cheek, letting her lips linger there for longer than is really necessary.

'Call me if you need me, sweetie.' she says in the most ridiculous seductive voice I've ever heard.

Jesse stiffens from head to toe and looks at me, all wide eyed and with an alarmed look plastered all over his handsome face. He's right to be anxious, especially after the barrel of shit he's just thrown at me because of a male client and an ex-boyfriend. Matt and Mikael would be a mass of body parts if the boot was on the other foot.

I grab his office door and open it wide before fixing my eyes on the blonde, larger than life tramp. 'Goodbye, Sarah.' I say with optimum finality.

She looks at me with a cocky, self-assured, pouty face and slides off Jesse's desk, sauntering across his office at a leisurely pace while giving me the eyeball. I hold her cocky face with my own take no prisoners' stare, all the way to the door that I'm holding open for her. As soon as her six inch platform heels are over the threshold, I slam it behind her and silently hope it collided with her toned arse.

Now, let's deal with my challenging man. I'm suddenly filled with determination to sort this shit out. Seeing him sat there with Sarah has made something perfectly clear to me.

He's mine...end of.

I turn to face him. He hasn't moved from his chair, the bottle of vodka is still sat in the middle of his desk like the proverbial pink elephant that it is and he's chewing his bloody lip, cogs steaming.

I nod at it. 'Why is that there?' I ask assertively.

'I don't know.' he replies. His face is tortured and it kills me to be on the other side of the room from him.

'Do you want to drink it?'

'Not now you're here.' His quiet words register loud and clear.

'You walked out on me.' I remind him.

'I know.'

'What if I hadn't of come?' That's the operative question here. I'm re-visiting the same thing over and over in my mind. He behaves like this is a piece of pie, constantly reassuring me that he doesn't need a drink as long as he has me, but now I find him keeping company with a bottle of vodka because we've had words. Okay, it was more than words, but that's not the point. I can't worry like this every time we quarrel. It doesn't escape my notice that the vodka wasn't the only thing he was keeping company with.

'I wouldn't have drunk it.' He pushes it away.

I glance at the bottle and notice it's sealed and full, but it's still there and something made him put it there...me. I'm the reason for his screwed up mind, his ridiculously ambitious objectives and his meltdowns. This is my entire fault. I've made him into a neurotic control freak.

We remain looking at each other for a few moments, my mind racing with all of the things we need to sort out, while he bites his bottom lip, clearly not knowing what to say to me. I'm not sure where to start either.

'Why is it there?' I ask.

He shrugs casually. It makes me mad. My fear was warranted, and now he expects me to let him brush it off and play it down with his vague answers and shoulder shrugs?

'I wasn't going to drink it, Ava.' His voice is slightly irritated.

I'm staggered. 'Would you drink it if I leave?'

His eyes fly to mine, panic invading his handsome face. 'Are you going to leave me?'

'You need to give me some answers.' I'm threatening him, but I feel like it's my only option. There are some things he needs to tell me. 'Why is Mikael so interested in our relationship?'

'His wife left him.' he spits the words out quickly.

'Because you slept with her.'

'Yes.'

'When?'

'Months ago, Ava.' He looks at me, sincerity in his eyes. 'She was the woman who turned up at Lusso. I'll tell you before you threaten to leave me again.' His sarcasm is quite endearing.

'She wasn't worried about you, was she?'

'Yes, probably, but she wants me too.'

'Who wouldn't?' I feel incredibly calm.

He nods mildly. 'I've made it clear, Ava. She's gone back to Denmark, and I slept with her months ago. I don't know why she's decided to pursue me now.'

I believe him, and anyway, Mikael has been sorting his divorce out so it has to be some time ago. Divorcing someone takes time. It's all becoming very clear. Mikael is the no one specific who will try to take me away from Jesse.

'He wants to take me away from you, like you did his wife.'

He drops his head to his hands. 'I didn't take her away, Ava. She left of her own accord, but yes, he does want to take you away from me.'

'But you were all friendly, you bought Lusso.' My head is hurting.

'It's just a front, Ava - on his part. He had nothing on me, nothing he could hurt me with because I didn't care about anything. But now I have you.' He looks up at me. 'Now, he knows where to stick the knife in.'

My eyes start to prickle, and I watch as his face falls, his own eyes glazing over. That's as much as I can take being this far away from him. I walk over to his chair and he opens his arms to me. I ignore his swollen hand and crawl onto his lap, letting him swamp me in his arms and invade all of my senses. His touch and his smell settle me immediately, and the inevitable happens, as it always does when we unite with each other like this - all of the issues causing us turmoil seem inconsequential and of no importance. It's just us in our own little sphere of contentment, soothing each other, settling each other. The rest of the world is getting in our way. Or, more to the point, Jesse's history is getting in our way.

'I'll die loving you.' he says with all of the emotion I know he truly feels. 'I can't let you go to Sweden.'