I nod. ‘It’s hot out there,’
The small smile flashing across John’s face is an indication that he knows damn well what I’m doing. Yes, I’m trying to bash all unreasonableness out of my husband, and this is the perfect place to start—at the sex haven of my Lord, where the revealing of flesh is an everyday occurrence. I’m not planning on ever stripping down and prancing around for everyone to see, but a swim in a decent bikini is a good place to start. If he can overcome it here, then he can overcome it anywhere.
We pass the bar, and I spot Sam. I can’t see his face, but his body slumped on a stool is a clear indication of how he’s feeling. My best friend is an idiot. She’s running away from something good, just to reignite something that’s terribly bad. Sam might have dragged her over to the dark side, but he doesn’t deserve to be crapped all over like this.
As soon as we enter Jesse’s office, he drops my hand and goes straight to the integrated fridge. He pulls out a jar of peanut butter, immediately unscrews the lid and plunges his finger in. John doesn’t bat an eyelid, instead taking a seat on the other side of Jesse’s desk, while I look on with a smile on my face. He walks casually over to his chair and takes his seat, slipping his finger into his mouth and sighing. He likes it?
‘What’s happening?’ he asks John around his finger.
‘Camera three is out of action. The surveillance company is scheduled to come sort it out.’ John shifts in his seat and pulls his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll chase them up.’ He dials and puts his phone to his ear before standing and walking over to the window.
‘Baby, you okay?’
I flick my eyes from John’s back to Jesse, finding a concerned look on his face. ‘Yes, fine.’ I realise now that I’m still standing at his office door, so I start towards his desk and sit myself down in the chair next to John’s. ‘Daydreaming. Sorry.’
His finger slips into his mouth again. ‘What about?’
I smile. ‘Nothing. Just watching you settle now you have your peanut butter.’
He looks down at the jar and rolls his eyes. ‘Want some?’
‘No.’ My nose wrinkles in distaste, and he laughs, his eyes twinkling, his soft lines springing from his greens as he screws the lid on and slides the jar onto his desk. He’s had his fix. ‘How’s Sam?’
‘Shit. He won’t talk about it. How’s Kate?’
‘Not good.’ I’m not lying, she really isn’t.
‘What do you know? Why did she end it?’
I shrug as casually as possible. ‘Because of this place, probably.’ I’m resisting the urge to sit on my hands. I dare not even mention my brother. ‘It’s probably for the best.’
He nods thoughtfully. ‘Do you want to swim or stay with me?’
I know what answer he wants. ‘What are you going to do?’ I ask, eyeing up the piles of paperwork on his desk. I’ve never seen it so messy, and I know why. No Sarah. But I’m not feeling in the slightest bit guilty about it, even if it means Jesse’s desk looks like a bomb’s gone off on it.
He looks at the paperwork, too, and sighs. ‘This is what I’ll be doing.’ He flicks through one of the piles.
‘Why don’t you employ someone else?’
‘Ava, it’s not that straight forward in this line of work. You have to know someone, trust them. I can’t just call the job centre and ask them to send along someone who can type.’
Okay, now I am feeling a little guilty. He’s right. We’re talking about people of high society, people with high powered jobs. Jesse has told me that they delve into the history of these people to determine their financial status and medical history, including any criminal convictions. I suppose there is a confidentiality issue. ‘I could help.’ I offer reluctantly, even though I wouldn’t have the first idea where to start, but his overwhelmed expression as he scans the masses of paper on his desk is really nudging the guilt.
His eyes fly up. ‘You would?’
I shrug and grab the first piece of paper I can lay my hands on. ‘An hour here and there, I suppose.’ I scan the text in my hands and recoil. It’s a bank statement. At least I think it is. The figures on here look more like international telephone numbers, so it could be a telephone bill. I glance up at him. He’s grinning.
‘We’re very rich, Mrs Ward.’
‘Fucking hell!’
‘Ava…’
‘I’m sorry, but…’ I try to focus on all of the digits but lose my place. ‘This sort of stuff shouldn’t be lying on your desk, Jesse.’ It has his account numbers on and everything. ‘Wait… did Sarah look after your finances?’
‘Yes,’ he says quietly. I bristle. I don’t trust the woman.
‘Do you have any idea where your money is? How much there is?’ I place the paper back on his desk.
‘Yes, look,’ He takes the piece and points at it. ‘I have this much and it’s in this bank.’