“I’ll take you for lunch,” I declare surely, mentally daring her to refuse. Just lunch. A few hours to break up my day.
“I told you, I’ve got stacks to get done.”
Fuck’s sake.“Dinner then,” I try.
“I’ll ring you later.”
Everything in me sags, most of all my heart. What point is she trying to prove here, other than she’s a defiant pain in the fucking arse? I know she wants to see me. “Are you refusing me?”Yes, Ward, didn’t you hear her?
“No, I’ll call you later.”
I reach for her thigh, a tactical move, and then lean in and kiss her into oblivion. Another tactical move. “Make sure you do,” I order, rising, leaving her dazed, and walking away, smiling to myself. I can feel her desire smacking me in the back as I go. “Have a good day, dear,” I say to myself.
“How old are you, Jesse?”
My smile drops. Are we really going to do this again? After last night, she’s still thinking about that? I pout, turning, but I keep moving, walking backward. “Twenty-four,” I call.
She noticeably sags. “How many times have I got to ask before we get to your real age?”
I’m not cocky enough to be insulted. Clearly, I’m not twenty-four. “Quite a few, lady,” I say, flashing a cheeky grin as I turn and stride away.Quite a few.She’ll keep asking, but how long can I evade?
I jump in my car and roar off, mentally planning my day. It needs to pass quickly so I can call her tomorrow. That’s if she doesn’t call me first. Will she call me first?
My phone rings and I sigh. Back to real life. “Sarah.”
“Where did you disappear to last night?”
Like she needs to ask. “I spent the night with Ava.” I don’t beat around the bush. She’ll see the spring in my step when I get to The Manor anyway.
“Oh,” she breathes, and I frown as I cruise down The Embankment. Sheissurprised? “Jesse...”
“Don’t do it, Sarah,” I warn, my tone automatically deadly. Talk about a drastic change in mood. Not only am I being deprived of Ava for a guaranteed twenty-four hours, but I also have to deal with endless shit that makes me feel like shit—while being deprived of the one thing that doesn’t make me feel like fucking shit. My fists clench around the steering wheel. “I’ll be there soon.” I hang up and put my foot down, blowing out my annoyance.
The moment I land in my office, I get straight on my laptop and look up a member of interest in the system. I dial the number we have on record and relax back in my chair, drumming my fingers on my desk.
“Hello?” Her accent sounds thicker over the phone.
“It’s Jesse Ward,” I say, and I hear her surprise in the form of a subtle inhale. “Hope you don’t mind me calling.”And picking your brain to bits.
“Of course not. How are you?”
I didn’t call for a pleasant catch-up. The last time I saw this woman, she was naked in my bed when I woke up. I need to get to the point before she assumes—or hopes—I’m calling for round two. “I’m good,” I reply, trying to keep it pleasant. “You?” I stop drumming my fingers, listening carefully. “I’ve not seen you around here for a while.” I cringe the second I say the stupid words, but I need to know what the deal is with her husband. I’m mentally praying to every god in existence that the reason she’s not been around here lately is because they’ve made amends and Van Der Haus has promised to keep his dick in his pants. And in return, she’ll steer clear of my establishment.
“I’ve been in Denmark,” she says. “Visiting my mother.”
“And your husband?”
“Is a disgusting womanizer.”
I sag in my chair. I don’t need to ask anymore.
“We’re getting a divorce,” she goes on. I want to cry on the inside. I saw the way Mikael Van Der Haus looked at Ava.
A low, rumbling growl works its way up from my toes. I have to know what I’m dealing with here. “Does he know?”
“About us?”
Why do women say that? Us? Like there’s more to it than a good fuck? “That we’ve fucked, yes.”