Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(36)

‘Why didn’t you take me?’ My tone is accusing. I didn’t mean it to be.

‘Would you have preferred that?’

‘Of course, but it’s not necessary.’ I’m approaching my destination. I need to wrap this conversation up. ‘Where are you?’ I ask.

‘At The Manor. Everything is under control. I’m not needed here. Do you need me?’

I can’t see him, but I know he’s pouting. ‘Always.’ I know that’s what he wants to hear.

‘Now?’ he asks hopefully.

‘Jesse, I’m at work.’ I try not to sound tired, but I have a ridiculously busy day ahead of me and I could do without providing him with the reassurance he needs to get through his. I wonder if he’s taken his running kit to work with him.

‘I know.’ he grumbles dejectedly. ‘What are you doing at this precise moment?’

Why this precise moment? ‘I’m on my way to a client and I’ve just got here, so I’ll have to sign off.’ I prompt. He might not be needed, but I have a diary to keep.

‘Oh, okay.’ He sounds so miserable, and I feel guilty for brushing him off.

I stop outside my destination and look up to the heavens. ‘I’ll stay at yours tonight.’ I say, hoping this will placate him.

He scoffs down the phone. ‘I would hope so, you live there!’

I roll my eyes. Of course I do. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘You will. What time?’ he presses.

‘Six-ish.’

‘Ish.’ he counters. ‘I love you, lady.’

‘I know you do.’ I hang up and make my way up the steps to the front door of Mr & Mrs Kent’s new home. I’m way too busy today to be sidetracked with my challenging man and his challenging ways.

***

‘Nice flowers.’

I look up and see Victoria standing at my desk. She is less orange, but no less miserable than she was this morning. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, wondering if Tom managed to extract any information.

‘Not really.’

‘Do you want to elaborate?’ I prompt.

She shrugs. ‘Not really.’

I try not to look bored, but it’s bloody hard. This is a typical case of someone wanting desperately to elaborate, but also wanting the dramatic buildup of someone pleading with them for information. I’ve had the longest day in my twenty six year history. I haven’t the energy to tease information out of her. I get up and head for the kitchen to get some biscuits. I need a sugar hit.

I find Sally washing up.

‘Hi, Ava.’ she says happily.

Now, I really am prepared to push Sally for information. I’m dying to know what’s put a huge smile on her face and provoked the introduction of scoop neck tops. ‘What did you get up to at the weekend, Sal?’ I ask casually as I dunk the biscuit tin. I catch her blushing again. I’m definitely onto something here. If she says she’s done a cross-stitch and cleaned the windows, I’ll hang myself.

‘Oh, you know. I went for a drink.’ She’s trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

I knew it! ‘Nice. Who with?’ I feign disinterest. It’s hard. I’m desperate to discover that our Sal – dull as dishwater, plaid skirt wearing, high necked bloused, office dogsbody – is a dominatrix or something.

‘I had a date.’ she says, maintaining her failing casual tone.

‘Really!’ I blurt. That came out so wrong. I didn’t mean to sound shocked, but I am.

‘Yes, Ava. I met him on the internet.’

Internet dating? I’ve heard nothing but bad things about it. They look like an underwear model on their profile picture, but when they turn up they are more akin to a serial killer. Sal seems quite happy, though. ‘Did it go well?’ I ask, biting into a chocolate digestive.

‘Yes!’ she screams. I nearly choke on my biscuit. I’ve never seen her so animated. ‘He’s perfect, Ava. He’s taking me out again tomorrow.’

‘Ah, Sal, I’m really happy for you.’

‘So am I!’ she sings. ‘I’m off now. Do you need anything before I go?’

‘No, you get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ She dances out of the kitchen and I remain lent against the counter as I work my way through another three chocolate digestives. I should replace them with wine. I’ve had a mad day, and I’m not looking forward to stopping by Matt’s to collect the last of my stuff, but it will be a good job done and Jesse will never have to know. I’ve not forgotten his demand to not see Matt again.



I pull up outside and the first thing I do is look for Matt’s car. It’s not there. He can’t have forgotten; I only called this morning, and I can’t wait around for him because Jesse will be on the phone soon wondering where I am. I pull my phone out of my bag and dial his number.

‘Ava?’ he answers swiftly.

‘Matt, I’m at yours.’ I say flatly and with clear annoyance.

‘Ava, I’m so sorry. I would have called, but I was in a meeting I couldn’t get out of. I’m going to be at least an hour.’

I throw my head against my seat. I can’t wait for an hour. ‘Fine, tomorrow?’

‘I’m in Birmingham tomorrow and Wednesday. Can we do Thursday?’