He smiles down at me. ‘Yes. Do you see how happy you make me when you do what you’re told?’
I ignore him and pop the bread in my mouth, each chew becoming easier, each swallow instigating less stomach turning. He just stands and watches me until I’ve worked my way through most of my breakfast, leaving the bacon and a few scraps of bread to the side. ‘Happy?’ I ask. I know I am. I feel better already.
‘Your colours back. Yes, I’m happy.’ He scoops up the remains and throws it in the bin, and then bends down, getting nose to nose with me. ‘Thank you.’ he grins, and I grin right back. ‘My work here is done.’ He pushes his lips to mine. ‘Now I’ll leave my wife to work in peace.’
I scoff. ‘No you won’t.’
Pulling back, he hits me with a cheeky grin. ‘I might check in once or twice.’
I scoff again. ‘No you won’t!’
‘I won’t make a promise I can’t keep. Is Patrick here?’ His question reminds me that I still haven’t spoken to my boss about Mikael.
‘No. He’s in meetings all day.’
He straightens, flicking his eyes to my hair, clearly looking for signs of my fiddling fingers. He won’t find them there because Patrick is in meetings. ‘You’ve made me late.’ he says, looking down at his Rolex.
‘You make yourself late.’ I shoo him away and pick up my flowers to put them in water. ‘Go.’
He holds his hands up and starts backing away from me. ‘Feeling better?’
‘I do. Thank you.’ Now I really am very grateful.
Blessing me with his smile, reserved only for me, he winks, blows a kiss and walks out, leaving me with a little grin on my non-pale face, Victoria and Sal smiling fondly and Tom swooning at my Lord’s back.
They’re all still so affected.
* * *
I make it to the end of the day with my breakfast still in my stomach. I feel so much better. Jesse has text me five times, each one asking how I feel, my answer the same for every reply. Better.
The final message asks a different question, though.
I’m still at The Manor. Come? We’ll have steak.
The last bit gets me.
On my way x
I pack my desk up and wave a goodbye to all of my colleagues, meeting a woman holding a bunch of flowers at the door.
‘Ava O’Shea?’ she asks. It’s not the usual florist, and she called me by my maiden name. Jesse would absolutely never do that and he already sent me flowers today, anyway.
‘That’s me.’ I sound cautious which is fine because I am. I’ve just noticed the flowers are not calla lilies and they are far from fresh. In fact, they’re dead. She places the flowers in my arms and thrusts the clipboard under my nose. She wants a signature for dead flowers? I shift my full arms and manage a rough scribble across the paper.
‘Thanks’ she says casually as she turns to walk away.
I look down at the flowers a little puzzled. ‘They’re dead.’ I call to her back.
‘I know.’ she replies, not in the least bit troubled by that.
‘You think it’s okay to deliver dead flowers?’
She turns and laughs. ‘I’ve had stranger requests.’
I flinch. Like what? She carries on her way, not bothering to enlighten me, so I find the card and scramble between my full hands to remove it from the tiny envelope.
HE SAYS HE NEEDS YOU. HE DOESN’T. YOU THINK YOU KNOW HIM. YOU DON’T.
I DO. LEAVE HIM.
Chapter 15
My heart stops beating in my chest and one name springs to mind immediately.
Coral.
I should feel concerned, but I don’t. I feel deadly possessive at the suggestion. A lightning bolt of Jesse’s famous attribute flies through me, leaving me dropping everything in my arms to the floor and tearing the malicious warning up slowly. Who the hell does she think she is? A f**k, that’s what she was, nothing more than a convenient f**k. Has she been in touch with Jesse again? Should I ask him and prick his curiosity, because I don’t want him to know about this. I don’t want anything tipping him over the edge. I can deal with empty threats. Leave him, or what? I stuff the dead flowers in a bin over the road, along with the card, and make my way to the car park. The desperate urge to be with him has suddenly overwhelmed me.
I come to an abrupt halt when I see the parking space where I left my Mini this morning is empty. No car. I glace up at the board displaying the floor number and note that I’m in the exact right place. So where the hell is my car?
‘S’all good, girl.’ John’s low rumble pulls my body around to find him leaning out of the window of his Range Rover. ‘In you get.’
‘My car’s been stolen.’ I wave my arm at the empty space and turn back to check that I’m not imagining things.
‘It’s not been stolen, girl. Get in.’
‘What?’ I turn startled eyes back to the mountain of a black man. ‘Where is it, then?’
John has a clear look of embarrassment on his mean face. ‘Your mother f**king husband had it picked up.’ He nods his head to the passenger side.
‘Are you winding me up?’ I laugh.