Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(173)

I cringe and reach over for the coffee pot. This is where the fireworks might start flying.

‘Next month at The Manor.’ Jesse informs her confidently.

I clank the coffee pot against the side of the mug and then swing me eyes onto Jesse. ‘Really?’ I am not getting married at The Manor! Is he winding me up? Oh God, I’ve come over all sweaty at the thought of my parents roaming around the building and grounds. Would they work it out?

‘Really.’ he counters coolly. It hasn’t taken long for the challenging arse who drives me insane to return.

‘How lovely.’ Cathy chirps.

My eyes fly from Jesse to her. Does she know what The Manor is? I feel like I’m in the twilight zone.

‘It will be.’ Jesse agrees. He screws the lid of the peanut butter back onto the jar and starts picking at the label, ignoring my stunned expression, which is firmly rooted on his profile. I watch as he looks at me out the corner of his eye and starts chewing his lip as he rolls up a piece of the label and flicks it onto the worktop.

I exhale slowly in an attempt to cool my fraying patience and grab the small piece of rubbish from the marble. What happened to discussing our wedding together?

Lowering myself from the stool, I head for the bin, just for something to do other than kick him in the shins. I pause behind him and push my mouth to his ear. ‘Who are you marrying?’ I ask quietly, before I carry on my way to the bin.

‘Compensation.’ he growls. ‘I’ll trample, Ava.’

‘Pardon?’ Cathy turns from the hob.

‘Nothing.’ we say in unison, before our scowls collide in the space between us. The hostility emanating from his body is palpable. This weekend has just proved that we need to be focusing our attentions on other more important issues, like filling each other with the reassurance that we both obviously need.

I stamp on the bin pedal and throw my miniscule piece of rubbish in, but something glimmers at me from the dark depths, catching my eye. I reach in on a frown and pull out one half of a silver and white card. It’s a wedding invitation. I turn it around and tilt my head before looking back into the bin. I retrieve the other half and hold them together.



Mr & Mrs Henry Ward request the pleasure of your company to the wedding of their daughter, Miss Amalie Ward, to Dr David Garcia.



Oh God!

The invitation is swiped from my grasp and stuffed back in the bin, and I’m yanked back over to the kitchen island in a complete daze. ‘Sit.’ he demands in that tone – the one that I know not to ignore. I’m lifted onto a stool with care, and I look up to find a ticking jaw and bulging neck muscles.

‘Your sister?’ I ask quietly.

‘Leave it.’ he warns without looking at me.

My mind starts racing. We haven’t spoken about his parents much, but what I do know is that he hasn’t seen them for years. Is that their choice or Jesse’s? If they are sending him an invitation to his sister’s wedding, then I’m guessing it must be Jesse’s. With the added clue of a sabotaged invite strewn without thought into the bin, it most certainly is Jesse’s choice. I study his profile, but dare not say a word.

‘Here you are.’ Cathy presents me and Jesse with our breakfast and then stuffs a duster in the front of her apron. ‘I’ll leave you to eat in peace.’

‘Thank you, Cathy.’ Jesse says with zero gratitude.

I can’t even speak. I start picking at the edges of my salmon bagel in an awkward silence and after an eternity of quiet, I finally relent and lower myself from my stool.

‘Where are you going?’ he asks shortly.

‘Upstairs.’ I make my way from the kitchen, leaving my breakfast untouched. Jesse and the constant challenges surrounding him are doing my appetite no favours.

‘Ava, don’t walk away from me.’ he threatens. I ignore him. ‘Ava!’

I swing around. ‘You are more than crazy mad if you think I’m marrying you, Jesse.’ I say calmly before leaving a face full of hurt in the kitchen. I half expect to get tackled to the ground, but much to my complete surprise – and worry – I’m allowed to leave the kitchen, taking myself up to the master-suite without so much as a countdown or a Jesse style sense f*ck. I’m delicate at the moment so no manhandling is possible. It’s probably killing him.

I see Cathy in my favourite spare room, dusting to her hearts content while singing Valarie. She brings a small smile to my face. Shutting the bedroom door softly behind me, I go and brush my teeth. I’ll go to work. I’m not hanging around the tower all day like a spare part and my back feels all right, if I don’t make too many sudden movements. I will just be under Cathy’s feet, and I would rather face Patrick and his certain questioning with regards to mine and Jesse’s relationship.

I flick through the rails and rails of new dresses and settle on one of my old ones. I get changed and slip my heels on before presenting myself to the mirror to put some make up on.

The bedroom door opens. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks, with a hint of apprehension in his voice. That would be the separation under his terms rule that I’m breaking.

‘I’m going to work.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘Yes, I am.’ I carry on with my make-up, ignoring his imposing body behind me. The no touching will be killing him, especially now when he wants to restrain me.