Текст книги "This Man Confessed"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

Chapter 14

The familiar sound of whirring and banging wakes me, and knowing where to find him, I take myself down to the gym. I stand on the other side of the glass door and watch his sweat drenched back flexing and rippling as he pounds the treadmill while watching the sports news on the suspended television. Opening the door quietly, I wander in and take myself around the front of the machine, sitting my naked arse on the weights bench in front of him.

He’s running very fast, and when I lean back on my arms, he slams his fist on the slow button, and starts a steady pace down until he’s stopped completely. My sleepy eyes are beside themselves, watching as he grabs a towel and runs it through his hair and over his face. He’s a mass of pure, solid, shimmering sweatiness. I could eat him.

I’m being watched very closely as he bends forward and rests his forearms on the front of the machine. ‘Morning.’ His eyes run down my front and all the way back up again until he’s back at my eyes.

‘Morning yourself. Why are you running in here?’ I already know the answer to that question, and if I’m going by the tiny, barely noticeable grin on his face, he knows I know the answer to that question, too.

‘I fancied a change.’

I throw him a questioning look, but don’t bother challenging him on it. If pregnancy stops him from dragging me out of bed at sunbreak for a trek around London, then I’m looking more forward to the next eight months. ‘I don’t remember falling asleep.’

‘You went out like a light. I was happy to have you tucked into my side, so I let you be. You’re sleeping for England, baby.’

At that comment, I yawn and stretch my arms over my head. ‘What time is it?’ Just as the words leave my lips, I hear the front door open and shut, and then the cheerful calling of Cathy. If Cathy’s here, then it’s got to be eight o’clock-ish, and I’m stark bollock naked! I jump up. ‘I’m naked!’

He smirks and steps down from the treadmill. ‘So you are.’ he laughs, walking over to me. ‘Whatever will Cathy think?’

I do a quick scan of the gym, looking for a towel or anything to conceal my naked form so I can escape upstairs with my dignity still intact. I laugh to myself. I lost my dignity the morning Cathy walked in on us both naked. My eyes land on the towel in Jesse’s hand, and I quickly snatch it from his grasp to flap it out.

‘I don’t think that’ll quite cover it.’ he muses smugly.

He’s right. It’s little more than a face cloth. ‘Help me.’ I lift pleading eyes to him and find a soft smile.

‘Come here.’ He opens his arms, and I walk right into them, lifting myself up in my usual chimp-ish manner. His damp skin is slippery and smells delicious.

Walking to the gym door, he opens it and sticks his head out. ‘Cathy?’ he calls.

‘Yes, boy?’

‘Where are you?’

‘In the kitchen.’

With that confirmation, he slips out and takes the stairs quickly. I watch over his shoulder as we rise, praying that Cathy doesn’t come to investigate his questioning. She doesn’t. I make it to the safety of the master-suite with my dignity still whole.

‘There.’ he places me on my feet and drops a kiss on my forehead.

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten to eight.’

I roll my eyes and point an accusing glare at him. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ I walk off to the bathroom.

‘You needed to sleep.’

‘Not for fifteen hours.’ I flip the shower on and step straight into the water, not bothering to wait for it to warm. I need waking up. I make quick work of wetting my hair and slapping some shampoo in my palms.

He’s standing on the other side of the glass removing his running shoes. ‘You obviously do need it.’ he mumbles.

I rinse my hair, condition, and then slip past him, ignoring more grumbles as he steps in. It takes me tens minute flat to dry my hair, apply my make-up and get dressed, and I’m on my way downstairs before Jesse.

‘Morning, Cathy,’ I take my phone off the charger and slip it in my bag.

‘Ava, you look a little brighter.’ Cathy dries her hands on the front of her apron and does a little assessment of me. ‘Yes, much brighter.’

‘I feel it,’ I laugh.

‘What would you like for breakfast?’

‘Oh, I’m late, Cathy. I’ll grab something at work.’ I throw my bag over my shoulder.

‘You’ll eat!’ Jesse’s stern, take no shit voice hits me from behind, and I turn to find a scowl fixed to his face as he fastens his tie. ‘She’ll have a bagel, Cathy.’ His suit-clad perfection reaches me and lifts me to a stool. ‘With eggs.’ He seems to consider something for a second. ‘Actually, no eggs.’

My eyes widen, and I quickly remove myself from the barstool, looking across at Jesse’s confused housekeeper. ‘Cathy, thank you, but I’ll eat at work.’ I walk out of the kitchen, leaving Jesse with his jaw slightly gaping.

‘Hey!’ His shocked voice reaches me as I slam the penthouse door behind me. No run. I will eat. No eggs. My contentment was short lived. I stab at the elevator keypad, but it doesn’t open, so I re-stab, getting myself more and more worked up. ‘No eggs?’ I yell at the row of numbers when the door still doesn’t shift.

‘You okay?’

I swing around and find my neurotic control freak with his hands draped loosely in his trouser pockets, watching me lose my temper with the innocent keypad. ‘I can eat eggs!’ I yell at him. ‘What’s the new code?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard.’ I bash the pad with the side of my fist.

‘Yes, I heard. But I’m giving you a chance to retract that tone.’ He’s completely straight faced and unaffected by my little outburst, while my eyes have just bulged at his insolence. Giving me a chance to retract it?

I walk up to him, calm and composed, and reach up on my tiptoes so I’m as near as possible to his nauseatingly splendid face—the one I want to smash in at this particular moment in time. ‘Fuck… off.’ I breathe on him before stomping off towards the stairwell, praying he hasn’t took the initiative to change the code on this door yet. He hasn’t. I smile smugly as I push my way through. Thirteen floors is going to kill me, but I start tackling them anyway, thanking the stair God’s that I’m going down them and not up.

By floor seven, I’ve removed my heels and by floor four, I have to stop and take a breather. I’m hot, sweaty and I feel sick. ‘Fucking man.’ I grumble, taking a deep breath and carrying on my way. I push my way through the fire door and walk straight into that chest, before being pushed back into the stairwell. I don’t even try to battle free from his grasp. I’m absolutely beat.

I’m lifted from my feet and held in place against the concrete wall. I’m damp with sweat and panting heavy, exhausted breaths in his face after pounding the stairs down to the foyer, while Jesse is breathing steady, calm streams of air after taking the luxurious elevators from the top of Lusso.

‘You’re not getting an apology fuck.’ I practically wheeze all over him. Even through my slightly sick feeling, I’m struggling to fight off his potency. I’m not yielding to this. It’s no eggs today, but it’ll be something more extreme tomorrow.

His lips form a straight line and his greens eyes narrow. ‘Mouth!’

‘No! You are not…’ That’s as far as I get before his mouth hits mine, attacking me full force. I know exactly what he’s doing, but that doesn’t stop my bag from dropping to the ground and my hands from grappling at his suit covered back. My legs lift and curl around his waist. This is the Jesse I know and love. I couldn’t be happier. I moan, I yank at his jacket, I pull his hair and bite at his lip.

‘Stubborn woman.’ he works up to my ear and bites down, clinking my earing with his teeth. ‘Someone’s gagging for it.’ He kisses the sensitive void under my lobe, and I shudder from top to toe. ‘Shall I make you scream in the stairwell, Ava?’

Oh good Lord, I want him to fuck me in the stairwell. ‘Yes,’

He pulls away, unhooks my legs and lets me slide down the wall to my feet, and then he rearranges his groin area while observing my shocked face under hooded eyes. ‘Would love to, but I’m late.’

‘You bastard.’ I spit, trying desperately to compose myself. It’s no good. Why bother pretending to be unaffected? It’ll never work. I stoop and grab my bag before pushing the door open and clinking on my frustrated heels through the foyer.

‘Good Morning, Ava.’ Clive’s fresh, happy tone irritates me.

I just about manage a low grunt as I pass, walking out into the sunshine and putting my sunglasses on, immediately loving the fact that my present isn’t here, but my Mini is. He’ll have to let me out, and he’d better. I jump in and start her up, and there’s an immediate tap on my window. ‘Yes?’ I ask as the glass pane lowers.

‘I’ll take you to work.’ It’s that tone, but I couldn’t give a toss.

I do the window back up. ‘No, thank you.’ I reverse out of the space, taking care not to run his feet over, before pulling my phone from my bag and dialling Lusso. ‘Morning, Clive.’ My greeting is a million miles away from the grunt that I’ve just given the old boy.

‘Ava?’

‘Yes, sorry to be a pain. Could you open the gates?’

‘Of course. I’ll do it now.’

‘Thank you, Clive.’ A smug, private smile breaks the corners of my lips, and I chuck my phone on the passenger’s seat as the gates start to open. I don’t hang around. I drive straight out of the car park, catching Jesse’s arms waving around above his head before he stalks back into the foyer.

* * *

After driving up and down the car park forever, looking for a space, I finally fall through the office doors a whole half an hour late. I’m still slightly sweaty, I’m even more out of breath and my frustration is obvious, especially when I throw my bag across my desk and it takes my pen pot with it, the loud clatter attracting the attention of my work colleagues, who all poke their heads out of the kitchen to see what the commotion is all about.

‘Feeling better?’ Tom asks, his inquisitive gaze running the length of my clammy form.

‘Yes!’ I bark, wrenching my bag to the floor and collapsing into my chair. I take a few calming breaths and turn my swivel chair towards the kitchen, finding three sets of raised eyebrows. ‘What?’

‘You look terrible,’ Victoria pipes up. ‘Maybe you should’ve stayed off work.’

‘I can pick you a Starbucks up,’ Sally offers sweetly.

I soften my scowling face at the expressions all pointed at me, which have now turned from curious to concerned. I forgot that I was supposedly ill yesterday. ‘Thanks, Sal. That would be lovely.’

She walks over to her desk and pulls some money from the petty cash tin. ‘Anyone else?’

Tom and Victoria both shout their orders at Sal, who barely holds back to hear them before leaving office promptly, probably to escape my obvious foul mood. I turn my computer on and load up my email account. Tom and Victoria are standing at the end of my desk in a blink of an eye.

‘You look pasty.’ Tom observes, twirling a pen in his fingers, his turquoise shirt and yellow tie playing havoc with my tired eyes.

‘Really pale, Ava. Are you sure you’re okay?’ Victoria sounds and looks more concerned than Tom, who just looks damn right suspicious.

I start flicking through my email, highlighting and deleting the mass of junk and promotional rubbish. ‘I’m fine. Where’s Patrick?’ It’s only now, when I’ve calmed slightly, that I’ve noticed my boss hasn’t come to investigate the noise.

‘Personal meetings.’ they chant in unison, and I look up on a frown.

‘Wasn’t he in private meetings yesterday?’

‘He’ll be in tomorrow.’ Tom tells me. ‘Do you think he’s finally divorcing Irene?’

I actually laugh. ‘No!’ She might drive Patrick around the twist, but he loves her dearly.

‘Ooh, I didn’t think of that.’ Victoria’s blue eyes are wide. ‘Did you see that thing she had on at your wedding?’

‘Yes!’ Tom shrieks. ‘A crime!’

Victoria laughs as she walks back to her desk, and I look back at Tom. He is in no position to pass judgment on other peoples fashion sense.

‘What?’ he asks, running his eyes down his own garish torso. ‘Fabulous, isn’t it?’

‘Stunning.’ I laugh, turning my attention back to my computer, leaving Tom dancing his way back to his side of the office.

The office door opens and a woman with a basket draped over her arm walks in. ‘Ava Ward?’ She looks at Tom, and then follows his pointed pen over to me.

‘Hi,’ I say as she makes it to my desk and rests her hamper on the edge. ‘Can I help you?’ I don’t recognise her.

She pulls the gingham towel from the top of the carrier and my eyes naturally follow her hand into it. ‘Breakfast,’ She smiles, placing a paper bag in front of me, and then reaches back in, pulling out a takeaway coffee cup. ‘My coffee wasn’t good enough, so he had me pick one up from Starbucks. Cappuccino, extra shot, no chocolate or sugar.’ She doesn’t sound impressed. ‘Enjoy.’ And with that she turns and walks out.

I sigh and push the bag to the side. I’m not in the least bit hungry, but I’m dying for some coffee. I take a sip and immediately screw my face up at the bitter taste. ‘Ewww,’

‘All right?’ Tom frowns across the office at me.

‘Fine,’ I stand and take myself into the kitchen, removing the lid from my coffee and tipping sugar into the cup before giving it a good stir and taking another sip. I hum in sweet satisfaction.

‘Coffee for Ava!’ Sally walks into the kitchen, waving a Starbucks cup at me. ‘Oh?’ A look of complete confusion invades her face as she watches me gulping down the hot, sweet liquid.

I exhale happily. ‘Delivered, courtesy of my husband.’

She melts. ‘That’s so sweet.’

‘No, it wasn’t, actually. But I added a few myself.’ I walk past a puzzled looking Sal, back to my desk and dig through my bag when I hear my phone shout the arrival of a text.

Are you eating your breakfast?

I take another swig of my coffee and text back;

Yummy.

No thank you because I’m really not very grateful. I feel queasy, but the sweet coffee is going down a treat. I don’t get a chance to put my phone down before it chimes again.

I’m so glad our marriage is based on honesty.

My eyes instinctively lift and there he is, holding a bunch of calla lilies and with an annoyed glare drilling into me. I can’t prevent the long, drawn out exhale of air that rushes from my mouth as I lower myself to my chair. He strides over, giving Tom and Victoria a nod in greeting before sinking his tall, leanness into a chair on the other side of my desk, placing the flowers in front of me. ‘Eat.’ he orders flatly, nodding at the paper bag that’s been shoved to the side.

‘I’m not hungry, Jesse.’ I’m whining, but I can’t muster up the energy to retaliate or snap at him.

He leans forward, looking worried, his eyes evaluating my face. ‘Baby, you look pale.’

‘I feel rubbish.’ I admit. Finally morning sickness at the correct time of day. There is no point in feigning fine because I absolutely don’t feel it and I clearly don’t look it.

He rises and comes to stand behind my chair, leaning down and placing his palm across my brow and his mouth to my ear. ‘You’re hot.’

‘I know.’ I sigh, pushing my cheek to his mouth, my eyes closing with no instruction from my brain. How can I feel so exhausted still? ‘I hope you feel guilty.’ I say quietly. This is all his fault. I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I’m released and my chair swivelled around to face him. He crouches in front of me and takes my hands. ‘Let me take you home.’ he says, but I can tell by his pleading face that he knows I’ll refuse.

‘It’ll pass.’

‘You’re impossible sometimes.’ He reaches up to cup my cheek. ‘Pregnancy is making you moody and even more defiant.’

I force a small smile. ‘I like keeping you on your toes.’

‘You mean you like keeping me crazy.’

‘That, too.’

Sighing, he leans in and kisses me sweetly. ‘Please eat.’ He’s begging, not demanding. ‘It might make you feel better.’

‘Okay.’ I agree. I’m willing to try because even though the thought of swallowing food makes me want to gag, I couldn’t possibly feel any worse than I already do.

He looks a little surprised at my lack of disobedience. ‘Good girl,’

I’m turned back towards my desk and presented with the paper bag, and as I open it, the waft of bacon hits my nose and I do actually gag. ‘I don’t think I can.’ I snap the bag shut again, but it’s soon whipped from my hand, the bagel unpacked and placed on a napkin in front of me. As I gingerly pick at a corner and bring it to my lips, I’m fighting the overwhelming desire to run to the toilets and shove my fingers down my throat. I chew slowly for an age, under the watchful eye of my worried husband, then I swallow. I don’t retch. ‘Can I just eat the bagel?’ I pick at another piece. I can’t face the bacon.

He smiles down at me. ‘Yes. Do you see how happy you make me when you do what you’re told?’

I ignore him and pop the bread in my mouth, each chew becoming easier, each swallow instigating less stomach turning. He just stands and watches me until I’ve worked my way through most of my breakfast, leaving the bacon and a few scraps of bread to the side. ‘Happy?’ I ask. I know I am. I feel better already.

‘Your colours back. Yes, I’m happy.’ He scoops up the remains and throws it in the bin, and then bends down, getting nose to nose with me. ‘Thank you.’ he grins, and I grin right back. ‘My work here is done.’ He pushes his lips to mine. ‘Now I’ll leave my wife to work in peace.’

I scoff. ‘No you won’t.’

Pulling back, he hits me with a cheeky grin. ‘I might check in once or twice.’

I scoff again. ‘No you won’t!’

‘I won’t make a promise I can’t keep. Is Patrick here?’ His question reminds me that I still haven’t spoken to my boss about Mikael.

‘No. He’s in meetings all day.’

He straightens, flicking his eyes to my hair, clearly looking for signs of my fiddling fingers. He won’t find them there because Patrick is in meetings. ‘You’ve made me late.’ he says, looking down at his Rolex.

‘You make yourself late.’ I shoo him away and pick up my flowers to put them in water. ‘Go.’

He holds his hands up and starts backing away from me. ‘Feeling better?’

‘I do. Thank you.’ Now I really am very grateful.

Blessing me with his smile, reserved only for me, he winks, blows a kiss and walks out, leaving me with a little grin on my non-pale face, Victoria and Sal smiling fondly and Tom swooning at my Lord’s back.

They’re all still so affected.

* * *

I make it to the end of the day with my breakfast still in my stomach. I feel so much better. Jesse has text me five times, each one asking how I feel, my answer the same for every reply. Better.

The final message asks a different question, though.

I’m still at The Manor. Come? We’ll have steak.

The last bit gets me.

On my way x

I pack my desk up and wave a goodbye to all of my colleagues, meeting a woman holding a bunch of flowers at the door.

‘Ava O’Shea?’ she asks. It’s not the usual florist, and she called me by my maiden name. Jesse would absolutely never do that and he already sent me flowers today, anyway.

‘That’s me.’ I sound cautious which is fine because I am. I’ve just noticed the flowers are not calla lilies and they are far from fresh. In fact, they’re dead. She places the flowers in my arms and thrusts the clipboard under my nose. She wants a signature for dead flowers? I shift my full arms and manage a rough scribble across the paper.

‘Thanks’ she says casually as she turns to walk away.

I look down at the flowers a little puzzled. ‘They’re dead.’ I call to her back.

‘I know.’ she replies, not in the least bit troubled by that.

‘You think it’s okay to deliver dead flowers?’

She turns and laughs. ‘I’ve had stranger requests.’

I flinch. Like what? She carries on her way, not bothering to enlighten me, so I find the card and scramble between my full hands to remove it from the tiny envelope.

HE SAYS HE NEEDS YOU. HE DOESN’T. YOU THINK YOU KNOW HIM. YOU DON’T. I DO. LEAVE HIM.

Chapter 15

My heart stops beating in my chest and one name springs to mind immediately.

Coral.

I should feel concerned, but I don’t. I feel deadly possessive at the suggestion. A lightning bolt of Jesse’s famous attribute flies through me, leaving me dropping everything in my arms to the floor and tearing the malicious warning up slowly. Who the hell does she think she is? A fuck, that’s what she was, nothing more than a convenient fuck. Has she been in touch with Jesse again? Should I ask him and prick his curiosity, because I don’t want him to know about this. I don’t want anything tipping him over the edge. I can deal with empty threats. Leave him, or what? I stuff the dead flowers in a bin over the road, along with the card, and make my way to the car park. The desperate urge to be with him has suddenly overwhelmed me.

I come to an abrupt halt when I see the parking space where I left my Mini this morning is empty. No car. I glace up at the board displaying the floor number and note that I’m in the exact right place. So where the hell is my car?

‘S’all good, girl.’ John’s low rumble pulls my body around to find him leaning out of the window of his Range Rover. ‘In you get.’

‘My car’s been stolen.’ I wave my arm at the empty space and turn back to check that I’m not imagining things.

‘It’s not been stolen, girl. Get in.’

‘What?’ I turn startled eyes back to the mountain of a black man. ‘Where is it, then?’

John has a clear look of embarrassment on his mean face. ‘Your mother fucking husband had it picked up.’ He nods his head to the passenger side.

‘Are you winding me up?’ I laugh.

His eyebrows appear over his wraparounds. ‘What do you think?’ he asks seriously.

I take a deep, calming breath and make my way around to the passenger side and climb in. Yes, he needs me all right. He needs me to drive me fucking crazy! ‘I might strangle him.’ I mutter, yanking my seatbelt around and clipping it in place.

‘Take it easy on him, girl.’ John commences strumming on the steering wheel as he drives out of the car park, back into the daylight.

‘John,’ I start in a matter-of-fact tone. ‘I like you, I really do, but unless you can enlighten me on an acceptable reason for my husband’s neurotic ways, then I won’t be taking any notice of your request to take it easy on him.’

He laughs a deep, rolling belly laugh, his neck retracting and revealing those chins he keeps hidden. ‘I like you, too, girl.’ he chuckles, reaching under his glasses and wiping under his eyes. I’ve never seen this big, menacing beast so vivacious. It makes me smile, thoughts of challenging husbands and threatening notes soon making way for the giggles. But then John’s face straightens all too quickly, and I’m left laughing alone with wraparounds pointed at me. The sudden change in his expression snaps me right from my hysterical state. ‘He might get worse. I believe congratulations are in order.’ His face dips, an indication that he’s looking at my stomach, before he returns to face the road.

‘He’s told you?’ I ask disbelievingly. I don’t want anyone to know yet. It’s way too soon.

‘Girl, he didn’t need to.’

‘He didn’t?’

‘No, when I found Harrods baby department on the screen of his computer, it kind of let the cat out the bag. That and the smile on the mother fucker’s face all day.’

I sink into my seat. I can imagine he’s got Zoe sourcing all sorts of luxurious baby equipment. I can also imagine her face when Jesse hits her with his latest shopping list, when it’s just a few short weeks since she met me and set me up with a stunning gown for the anniversary dinner. And just a few short weeks after that, she’s searching for my wedding dress, and then not long later, she’s finding our baby’s christening gown. What must she be thinking? Shot-gun, that’s what. A rush job because he’s knocked me up, just like everyone else will probably think, including my parents and Dan. How long can I hold out before I tell them?

* * *

John pulls up at The Manor, and I waste no time jumping down from his Range Rover and making my way up the steps.

‘He’s in his office.’ John calls.

‘Thanks, John.’ I use my key, pushing my way through the doors, and head straight towards the back of The Manor, passing through the summer room and smiling to myself at the sudden silence that falls. I cast my eyes across the gathering of women, all with drinks in their hands and all with sour faces. ‘Evening,’ I smile brightly and receive a chorus of mumbles in return for my trouble. My smile widens at the thought of those sour faces souring further when they learn of my pregnancy. I’m smug.

As I approach Jesse’s office, the door opens and a man exits, looking tense but relieved all at once. It’s Steve. He looks different, fully clothed and without a whip in his grasp. I halt dead in my tracks, completely shocked, mainly because he’s in one piece. He doesn’t look so cocky now. ‘Hi,’ I stammer, the surprise clear in my tone.

His eyes lift and he smiles, a little embarrassed. ‘Ava,’

I’m staring at him, and I realise it’s rude, but I’m not sure what to say. There are no bruises or black eyes, he’s not limping and he doesn’t look like he’s just been offered burial or cremation. ‘How are you?’ I ask, when my brain fails to give me anything better to say.

‘I’m good,’ He slips his hands into his jacket pockets, looking no less uncomfortable. ‘You?’

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ This is so awkward. The last time I saw him, he had me trussed up and was whipping the crap out of me. He was cocky and smarmy, but there is no trace of that man now. ‘You’ve been to see Jesse?’

‘I have.’ He laughs. ‘I’ve avoided it for long enough. I needed to apologise.’

‘Oh,’ My brain is failing me again. He looks sincere enough, but if I was a man and I had Jesse vying for my blood, I think I would face the shame of grovelling, which is no doubt what he’s done. We wouldn’t be walking if he hadn’t. It may have been a few weeks, but I know Jesse has been quietly boiling over this.

‘I should apologise to you, too.’ he stammers through his words. ‘Yeah… urm… I’m… I’m sorry.’

I shake my head. I’m the one who’s embarrassed now. I asked him to whip me. I asked for it. It’s me who should be feeling remorseful for setting him up for certain annihilation. ‘Steve, I shouldn’t have asked you. It was wrong of me.’

‘No,’ He smiles, but this time it’s a sweet offering. ‘I’d been walking a fine line for too long, getting carried away, losing respect for the women trusting me. You actually did me a favour, but, of course, I wish I’d never hurt you.’

I smile back. ‘I’ll accept yours, if you accept mine.’

He pulls his car keys from his pocket and starts to pass me. ‘Accepted. I’ll see you.’

‘See you.’ I call to his back.

I push through Jesse’s office door and find him on his knees in the middle of the floor, my mind suddenly awash with painful memories. But he’s fully dressed in his suit and there are piles and piles of paperwork spread on the floor in front of him. He looks up, and my heart constricts at the exasperated look on his beautiful face. His concentration frown is heavy.

‘Hey,’ I shut the door behind me, and his look changes from mentally exhausted to contented in a split second.

‘Here’s my beautiful girl.’ He sits or his arse, knees bent and with his feet flat on the floor. He opens his arms. ‘Come here. I need you.’

I walk slowly over. ‘Need me, or need me to sort all of this out for you?’

He pouts and waves him arms impatiently. ‘Both.’

I sit myself between his thighs and shuffle back until my back is pressed to his front. His arms wrap around my shoulders and his nose goes straight into my hair, taking a long, loud inhale. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better.’

‘Good, I don’t like seeing you poorly.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have been underhanded and knocked me up.’ I retort dryly, earning myself a nudge of his leg. ‘I saw Steve leaving.’

‘Hmm,’ he hums in my ear, nibbling at my lobe.

‘Did you offer burial or cremation?’ I grin to myself when I’m nudged again.

‘I offered him an olive branch, actually. Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’

I’m pretty speechless. I would’ve put my life on the imminent demise of the poor Steve. ‘What’s made you so reasonable?’

‘I’m always reasonable. It is you, beautiful girl, who’s the unreasonable one.’

I don’t bother challenging him. I don’t even bother scoffing or laughing, but his little comment has just reminded me of something. ‘What’s so reasonable about having my car stolen?’ I ask. ‘And how did you manage it without any key?’

‘Tow truck.’ he replies with absolutely no shame or further explanation.

I reach forward and pick up a few pieces of paper, anything to stop myself from countering his ridiculous claim of not being unreasonable.

‘How was your day?’ he asks.

I try to prevent the slight tensing of my body, scorning myself for the immediate reaction to withdraw from his embrace so he doesn’t sense it. Given his relaxed persona, I don’t need to worry him with trivial, empty threats from his ex-scorned lover. ‘Productive. Shall we make a start?’

He groans but releases me. ‘Suppose so.’

Over the next hour, we sort through endless papers, bills, contracts and invoices. I’ve collated them all in date order, stacked them in neat piles and secured them with elastic bands. Jesse slumps in his office chair and starts fiddling with his computer, and I watch as I finish binding the final pile of papers. He’s guiding his mouse around, his frown a perfect line on his brow. Curious, I get up to go and see what he’s so rapt with, although I suspect I already know. As I walk around his desk, he flicks his eyes quickly to me, and then hastily shuts his screen down.

‘Dinner?’ He stands.

I give him suspicious eyes and lean past him, turning the screen back on. It’s as I thought; baby paraphernalia everywhere. Multiple screens are open, and I glance across the bottom, seeing every manufacturer of baby equipment that you could possibly think of. There’s even one page dedicated to organic nappies. I turn my face to his with a questioning look, but I can’t possibly be cranky with him, especially when he shrugs sheepishly and starts biting at his bottom lip.

‘Just doing a bit of research.’ He actually looks down and starts scuffing his shoes on the office carpet. I melt at his feet. I could hug him. So I do. I embrace his excitement and embrace him. Tightly.

‘I know you’re excited, but could we hold off telling people?’