Beneath This Man (18 page)

After smothering myself in coco butter, I slip my lace underwear on and my red shift dress.

‘I like your dress.’

I swing around and my eyes are assaulted by a devastatingly handsome, navy suited beast. I sigh in appreciation. He is just too bloody perfect and he’s not shaved.  I swoon on the spot. He looks like he’s got over his little strop.

‘I like your suit.’ I counter.

He grins and finishes straightening his grey tie before pulling the collar of his white shirt down. If I was any other woman and I found out about The Manor and the God who owned it, I would join too.

I’m being distracted again. I throw my bag on the bed, retrieve my phone, sweep some gloss across my lips and grab my shoes, all under his watchful eye. I have another futile rummage through my bag for my pills, but I know I’m searching in vain.

‘Lost something?’ He splashes some aftershave on.

Oh, that smell. ‘My pills.’ I grumble with my head practically in my oversized, leather shoulder bag. I run my fingers around the stitching of the lining to check for rips.

‘Again?’

I look up at him and smile apologetically. I feel stupid, and I’m not relishing the thought of visiting Doctor Monroe again. I need to sort that today before I miss anymore.

‘I’ll see you later.’ He lands me with a chaste kiss on my cheek and leaves me to carry on searching for rips in the lining of my bag. What a nightmare. Maybe I should just get the jab and save myself all of this embarrassment.

I freeze on the spot, my brow furrowing, my mind jumping the gun…I think.

No, he wouldn’t. Why ever would he?

Chapter 9

As I walk into the foyer, I find Clive rubbing the cuff of his jacket on the marble desk, buffing it to a shine.

‘Morning, Clive.’

‘Good morning, Ava.’ he says happily.

I return his cheeriness with an over-the-top smile. ‘Clive, I don’t suppose you could show me the CCTV footage from Sunday, could you?’

‘No!’ he blurts quickly, suddenly becoming busy and frantically typing on his keyboard.

I eye him suspiciously, but he won’t look at me. I don’t believe this. Jesse has beaten me to it. He knew I would ask Clive. ‘Has Jesse spoken to you?’

‘No.’ He shakes his head and keeps his eyes down.

‘Of course.’ I sigh, turning and walking out of the foyer. The Lord is cute, and I’m suspicious.

‘Oh, Ava!’ I hear Clive coming after me. ‘Maintenance rang. The door is on order, but it’s coming from Italy so it may be a while.’ He walks besides me.

‘You should call Jesse and let him know.’ I carry on walking, and he carries on flanking me.

‘I did, Ava. Mr Ward advised me that I should consult with you on anything regarding the penthouse.’

I skid to a halt. He said what? ‘I’m sorry.’ I sound confused.

Clive looks nervous. ‘Mr Ward, he….urh….he said you live here now and anything concerning the penthouse should be run past you.’

‘Oh, he did, did he?’ I grind. I shouldn’t sound so menacing. It’s not Clive’s fault. ‘Clive, do me a favour. Ring Mr Ward and tell him I don’t live here.’

Clive looks like I’ve just told him that he has two heads. I’m fuming. He moves me in under the persuasion of a sense fuck followed by a reminder fuck, and then expects me to become Molly mop? No amount of sense or reminder fucking will work in his favour this time.

‘Of course, Ava. I’ll…urhhhh…do it now.’

‘Good.’ I snap, and carry on outside the building. I stand and rummage through my bag for my sunglasses and car keys, completely riled. How dare he? I huff and puff to myself until I find my glasses, and as I slip them on, Massive Attack’s
Angel
creeps into my ears.

‘Oh no!’ I screech to myself. I’m even madder now. He knows how I feel about that track. I grab my phone and connect the call. ‘Stop messing about with my phone!’

‘No! Reminds me of you.’ he yells. ‘What do you mean, you don’t fucking live there?’

‘I’m not your fucking maid!’ I shout back.

‘Watch your fucking mouth!’

‘Fuck off!’ I yell. Oh, my language is blue!

‘MOUTH!’

I stand outside
Lusso
raging mad. If he thinks I’m going to be playing the dutiful domestic lady, he’s another thing coming. The cheek! I look up and spot John leaning against his Range Rover. His signature wrap around glasses are on, but I can see his arched brow above it. He’s enjoying this.

‘What’s John doing here?’ I snap.

‘Have you calmed down yet?’

‘Answer me!’ I yell.

‘Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?’

‘You! Are you listening? Why is John here?’

‘He’s going to take you to work.’

‘I don’t need a chauffeur, Jesse.’ I’ve calmed my voice slightly. How undignified of me, shouting and swearing like a drunken football hooligan, and in front of the newest, most prestigious residential complex in London. I look up and see John grinning. It’s new to me. I‘ve never seen him display any humour.

‘He was in the area. I thought it would be easier than you trying to park up.’ Jesse has calmed his tone too.

‘Well, at least tell me what’s happening if it involves me.’ I spit down the phone and hang up.

Controlling pig!

I make my way over to John and my phone starts singing again en-route. I’ll be changing that ring tone. I flash my screen at John as I pass him, and he grins again. ‘Yes, dear?’ I quip, rather bravely. I’m digging myself a hole here – I do realise that, but he’s out of touching distance so there is no risk of any sort of Jesse style fucking to put me in my place. 

‘Don’t be sarcastic, Ava. It doesn’t suit you.’

I climb into the Range Rover and put my seatbelt on. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I’m on my way to work with John.’ I glace over at John, and he nods. ‘Would you like confirmation?’ I ask. ‘John, make yourself known.’ I thrust the phone under John’s nose.

‘S’all good, Jesse.’ he rumbles. He actually smiles, and I notice a gold tooth. He’s really enjoying this.

I put the phone back to my ear. ‘Happy?’

‘Very!’ he snaps. ‘Ever heard of a retribution fuck?’

The very words send shivers down my spine. I glance at John. He is still grinning. ‘No, are you going to demonstrate?’ I ask quietly.

‘If you’re lucky, I’ll see you at home.’ He hangs up.

I put my phone in my bag, feeling coils of anticipation springing into my groin. He’s taken me on a ten mile run, served me my favourite coffee, fucked me into oblivion and made filthy promises on the phone, and I haven’t even got to work yet. On top of that, though, he’s distracting me from a whole heap of troubling thoughts. He’s holding back on me again, and I can’t believe he has advised the concierge that I am now the lady of the house. I need to avoid all sense fucking in future, and I need to think about how I’m going to approach this little issue. It’s way too soon to move in with him.

I look at the mean beast of a man sat next to me. ‘Were you really in the area?’

John stops with his signature hum. ‘What do you think?’

That’s what I thought. ‘How old is Jesse?’ I ask casually. Why I’ve picked a casual tone is beyond me. It’s ridiculous that I don’t know how old he is.

‘Thirty two.’ John replies, completely dead pan.

Thirty two? That’s how old Jesse said he was last night. I look at John, who has started humming again. I don’t believe it! Jesse’s given him the heads up. ‘He’s not thirty two, is he?’

John smiles again, flashing his gold tooth. ‘He said you would ask.’

I shake my head. I’m at a total loss on that subject, so I decide, as John seems like he’s in a talkative mood, to take another angle. ‘Is he always so challenging?’

‘Only with you, girl. He’s actually quite laidback.’

Laidback? What a laugh! I remember Sam saying that too, and I also remember John mentioning that I had brought out some nasty qualities in him. I laugh to myself. Jesse has brought out some pretty nasty qualities in me too. I’m swearing like a sailor. ‘I obviously bring out the worst in him.’ I grumble.

‘Ah, girl. Go easy on him.’ John soothes lightly.

‘Do you want to live with him and his challenging ways?’ I ask exasperated.

‘So, you’ve moved in then?’ His eyebrows appear over his shades as he turns his face to me. I hadn’t realised what I just said. I hope John isn’t jumping to the same conclusion as Sarah did; that I’m after his money.

I suddenly have the urgent need to defend myself. ‘He asked me and pretty much bullied a yes out of me,’ I won’t tell John how, ‘but I’m not so sure. It’s a bit soon. That’s what that little spat was about. He doesn’t like being told no.’ I wave my phone at John.

I don’t give a fudge about his money!

The corners of John’s lips turn down and he starts nodding his head thoughtfully. ‘He certainly has a way with you.’

I scoff and do my own little thoughtful head shake. He certainly does have a way with me. It’s frightening. ‘How long have you known him?’ I ask. I may as well get my fill while I can. He might shut up and not start talking again.

‘Too long.’ He laughs, and it’s a deep, rumbling belly sound that has him developing a few more chins as his neck retracts. I wonder how old he is. It’s like the bloody mystery of ages. He’s got to be late forties.

‘I bet you see some sights at The Manor.’ I muse. John’s role is all the more clearer, now I know the place isn’t a hotel or the mafia’s HQ. I wouldn’t want to be messing with the mountain of a man sat next to me, drumming his hands on the steering wheel. He even makes that look menacing.

‘It’s all in my job description.’ he says casually.

Ah, which reminds me. ‘Why were the police there?’ I ask.

John turns an almost threatening face onto me, and I wither slightly. ‘Just some idiot playing games. No need for you to worry, girl.’ He turns his attention back to the road.

I wasn’t particularly worried, but I am now. John has just spun off the exact same minimal explanation that Jesse did, and the fact that he has told me not to worry is even more worrying. What’s going on?

Information. I need some damn information.

I’m dropped off at my office, and John nods his farewell.  

‘Morning, Ava!’ Sally says cheerfully.

Oh yes. I forgot our Sal has transformed. She has on the same top as yesterday but in a different colour. Today’s top is red.  I like sparkling Sally. I hope she doesn’t get crapped all over. ‘Hi Sal, Are you okay?’

‘Yes, thank you for asking, I’m very good. Can I get you a coffee?’

‘Please.’

‘Coming up!’ She flashes me a lovely smile and skips to the kitchen. I notice she has nail colour on. This is new too, and it’s not beige or clear. It’s fire cracker red! This must be in preparation for her date.

I load my computer up, crack on with some estimates and prepare a heap of invoice requests for Sally. I open my email and see my inbox flooded with new emails, mostly junk, so I start to plough through them.

At ten thirty, I hear the office door open. When I look up, I’m not at all surprised to see a fan of calla lilies spread across the arm of
Lusso
girl. I knew he wouldn’t take any notice of my request. She rolls her eyes, and I give her an apologetic shrug. After exchanging flowers and signatures, I retrieve the card.

Looking forward to your retribution fuck?

Your God.

X

I smile and send him a text. I promised myself no contact after he distracted me this morning, but that plan has already been tossed out the window, what with Molly mops and Big John. And anyway, I really am looking forward to my retribution fuck.

Yes I am and yes u are. Your Ax

I knuckle down. With the office empty except for Sal, I have the perfect opportunity to get lots done. I run across the road at lunchtime to grab a bagel and eat it at my desk. My phone declares a text when I land back in my chair.

I particularly like your sign off. Don’t forget it. You always will be. See you at home about 7…ish Jx

I’m well and truly on Central Jesse Cloud Nine. I decide to give Kate a call while I’m taking a few minutes out for lunch.

‘Well, hello!’ she sings down the phone in greeting.

What is she so happy about? Oh God. She’s not been to The Manor again, has she? I won’t ask. I really don’t want to know. ‘Hey, you okay?’

‘It’s all good in the hood! How’s my favourite boyfriend to a friend?’ She laughs.

‘He’s fine.’ I answer dryly. She only loves him so much because he bought her Margo Junior.

‘Listen, I’m on my way to Brighton to drop a cake off in Margo Junior. Do you want to do lunch on Thursday? I’m a bit hectic tomorrow. I’ve got stacks to catch up on.’

‘Being distracted, are we?’

‘Fun!’ she snaps. ‘Do you want to do lunch or not?’

‘All right!’ I blurt. Her oversensitivity on this matter is making me super suspicious. ‘Thursday, one o’clock at Baroque.’ I confirm.

‘Perfect!’ She hangs up.

Blimey, I think I just hit a nerve. Fun my arse! She’s skirting around this and brushing it off far too hastily. I want to know what’s going on, but I’m making it a point not to ask in future. What’s she up to?

I hear the door of the office open and look up to see Tom arriving. ‘Tom, we need to have a word about your attire!’

He looks down at his emerald green dress shirt with bright pink tie. Colour clash in Tom’s world is highly offensive. ‘Fabulous, isn’t it?’ He strokes his tie.

No, it’s not. It’s highly unpleasant, in fact. I know that if I was looking for an interior designer and Tom turned up on my doorstep, I would shut the door in his face. ‘Where’s Victoria?’ I ask.

‘Appointment in Kensington.’ He throws his man-bag on his desk and takes his glasses off to clean them on the tail of his shirt.

‘Did you find out what happened?’  I press.

‘No!’ He slumps into his chair. ‘She moped and sulked all day.’ He leans forward and scans the office. ‘Hey, what do you make of our Sal?’

Oh, he’s noticed. It’s hard not to. ‘She had a date.’ I whisper loudly.