Beneath This Man(97)

I pull in next to Jesse's car and quickly check my face in the rear view mirror. Considering the events of the last few hours, the last few weeks actually, I don't look too bad.

John opens the door before I reach it and offers me a small, reassuring smile. It goes nowhere near making me feel any better.

We walk into the imposing entrance hall together and past the stairs, restaurant and bar. I hear chatter and laughter, but I don't bother looking. I've seen it all before, except now I know why they're all here.

'Has he calmed down?' I ask as we reach the summer room. There are people scattered around the seating areas, drinking and talking, probably discussing what the evening could have in store for each of them. I'm assaulted by a dozen inquisitive stares, and I tense all over. Did they see Jesse raging?

'Damn, girl, you affect that mother f*cker.' John laughs to himself, giving me a glimpse of that illusive gold tooth.

I let out a rush of breath in agreement, but he affects me too. Does John realise that? 'My man is challenging.' I muse.

John looks over at me and flashes one of his knock out, rare, all white and gold teeth smiles. 'Challenging? That's a word. I call him a f*cking pain in the arse. I've got to admire his determination, though.'

'Determination?' I feel my brow knit. 'Determination to be challenging?' I quip.

John stops as we reach Jesse's office. 'I've never seen him so determined to live.'

I suddenly want to go back to the beginning of our walk to Jesse's office so we can continue with this conversation. 'What do you mean by that?' I can't help the confusion in my tone. That little statement has me really very confused. I can't see any determination to live. All I see is determination to give himself a seizure with stress. He's self-destructible.

My breath hitches in my throat.

He's self-destructible. Jesse has said that before - when he took me on his bike, he said that. What did he mean?

'Trust me, it's a good thing.' John looks at me affectionately. 'Be easy on him.'

'How long have you known him, John?' I want to keep him talking.

'Long enough, girl. I'll leave you to it.' He takes his mountain of a body and strides off down the corridor.

'Thanks, John.' I say to his back.

'S'all good, girl. S'all good.'

I stand outside Jesse's office with my hand hovering over the doorknob. John's unexpected and volunteered information, albeit vague, has pricked my curiosity more. Was he really self-destructible? My mind is racing with thoughts of alcohol, dabbling, lack of leathers and scars. I turn the handle and walk, with caution, into Jesse's office.

I'm immediately insulted by what I see. Jesse is sat in his big office chair facing Sarah, who is perched on the corner of his desk. The woman is a leech. A thud of possessiveness slaps me in the face, but it's the bottle of vodka sat on Jesse's desk that has me more fretful. I can fight off unwanted female attention, as long as it's unwanted. The vodka is another matter entirely.

They look up at me in unison, and she flashes me a fake, insincere smile. Then I notice a bag of ice resting on Jesse's hand. I was right to have a touch of the green eyed monster. They look, in Jesse's words, very cosy.

Now there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these two have had a sexual relationship. It's written all over her face. I feel sick, jealous and dangerously possessive.

The brazen interloper makes no attempt to shift her toned arse off Jesse's desk. She just sits there, relishing in the obvious tension her presence is causing, but it's the impostor in clear bottle form that I'm more threatened by. I can deal with her. I'm in no mood for silly games with ex-sexual conquests.

I look at Jesse, and he meets my gaze. He's still in his charcoal trousers, but the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up. His dirty blonde hair is a glorious mess on top of his beautiful head, but despite him in all of his loveliness, he looks fearful and uneasy. I don't blame him. I've just walked in on him looking cosy with another woman and with a bottle of the evil stuff in front of him. It's my worst nightmares wrapped into one.

He slowly turns his chair with his feet, away from the interloper and towards me.

'Have you had a drink?' My voice is even and strong. I feel anything but.

He shakes his head. 'No.' he answers in a quiet voice.

I'm uncertain whether his voice is small because of the woman or because of the vodka. He drops his head slightly, and the silence is awkward, but then Sarah rests a hand on Jesse's arm and I want to dive on the desk and yank her hair out. Jesse flinches and snaps his eyes to mine.