Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(139)

I open the door and hear the elevator arrive, then the unmistakable sound of Clive grumbling. Curiously walking towards the elevator, I find Clive heaving box after box and bag after bag.

‘Ava, you have a serious problem. I think you are what they call a shopaholic. Do you want it all inside?’ he huffs.

‘Urh, yeah.’ I look and see Harrods bags and gift boxes everywhere. What the hell? I’m like a spare part, holding the door open, mouth gaped, as Clive hoofs them all through and dumps them in the penthouse.

I can’t believe he’s done this. Why didn’t I suspect something was amiss when he so willingly let me have my way when bargaining with him? Or let me think I got my way, more to the point. The man must have blown a ridiculous amount of money yesterday.

Clive dumps the last bag and starts making his way back to the door. ‘That’s your lot. Was there anything left?’

I look bewilderedly up at Clive’s back. ‘Pardon?’

He turns and frowns. ‘At the store, did you buy them out?’

‘Urhhh, yeah. Thanks, Clive.’

‘Oh, a young lady stopped by.’ Clive informs me, but then instantly snaps his mouth shut, obviously realising his error.

That soon snaps me from my dazed state. ‘Really?’ I blurt.

His old eyes are wide. ‘Urm…I don’t know…’ He starts walking back. ‘Actually, maybe it was for a different resident. Can’t be sure.’ He laughs nervously. ‘It’s my age.’

‘Yeah, whatever, Clive. Short black hair?’ I ask. He said mature when referring to the blonde wavy one, who I now know to be Mikael’s wife – or ex-wife.

‘Can’t be sure, Ava.’

I actually feel a little sorry for him. The poor man shouldn’t have to deal with this. ‘Let’s keep this quiet, shall we?’

‘Oh?’ He looks relieved.

‘Yes, you don’t tell Jesse about the young woman, and I won’t tell anyone about our neighbours habits.’

He sucks in a sharp gasp. Oh yes. I play dirty, old man. I walk over and shut the door in his face. Can my poor brain cope with much more. I’m not telling Jesse. I don’t want him contacting Coral, helping her, seeing her. I’m brimming with uncertainties and fear, battling raging jealousy and I’ve just set myself up for a lifetime of this. I agreed to marry him. Am I stupid?

Jesse’s phone starts screaming from the kitchen, and I find myself following the ringtone until I‘m stood at the island looking down at the screen. I knew who it would be before I even got a glimpse of the display. Rightly or wrongly, I answer it, disregarding my conscience that is currently advising me I’m a hypocrite.

‘Coral?’ I say, evenly and clearly. There is silence, but she doesn’t hang up. ‘Coral, what do you want?’

‘Is Jesse there?’ Her voice is small, and I’m a touched surprised that she hasn’t hung up. I realise now that I was expecting her to, once she heard my voice. Maybe I just wanted her to be aware that I’m aware, I don’t know, but she’s certainly got some balls.

‘He’s in the shower. Can I help you?’ I sound polite, but with an edge of irritation.

‘No, I need to speak to him.’ She doesn’t sound polite. She sounds affronted.

‘Coral, you need to stop bothering him.’ I need to make myself clear here, seeming as Jesse has suddenly grown a conscience.

‘Ava, isn’t it?’ she asks.

I’m not sure I like her tone. ‘That’s right.’ I try to maintain my evenness, but I have no idea where this conversation is leading and it’s making me incredibly nervous.

‘Ava, he’ll make you need him, then abandon you. Walk away while you still can.’ She hangs up.

I stand with Jesse’s phone still suspended at my ear, my eyes darting around the kitchen, my mind swamped again. I can’t walk away. Not now, not ever. And he would never let me; I don’t want to. I try to convince my brain that she is just envious, all of these women are jealous and slighted because Jesse played them all off, used them and tossed them away when he was bored or finished with them. That’s the logical reason. I know how I felt when I was without him, so if that is how all of these women feel, then I completely get it. I also feel very sorry for them, but it’s not my fault they can’t stand the fact that he has changed his ways for me – not for any one of them…for me. He has stopped drinking for me. He has stopped his dabbling for me. It’s his history, a nasty history, but it’s his history, nevertheless. It’s all historical, and I can’t hold his past against him. I straighten my shoulders in my own little private display of determination. I will never walk away from him. He has made me need him, but I know he needs me too. I’m going nowhere.

Sliding his phone on the counter, I walk back into the living space and I’m instantly reminded of what had my brain in meltdown before the call from Coral. I stand with my arms hugging my body, looking at the mountain of shopping bags and boxes before me. I don’t know whether to be excited or furious. He disregards my opinions and wishes at every turn, with his neurotic, challenging ways, and now I fear I’m becoming neurotic and challenging as well. He brings out the worst in me, and I know damn well I bring out the worst in him. John said as much. Easygoing, laidback Jesse Ward? No such man exists. Well, he does, when I’m complying, I saw him last night, but its times like this I easily forget about that man.