Beneath This Man (31 page)

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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fuck 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 fucking 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. ‘Fucking 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 FUCK 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 fucking 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 fucking going to Sweden or Denmark or any fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking 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 fucking love you, Ava. So fucking much, but I can’t look at you. This is fucked 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.’