Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
She’s silent as I dry the floor with a towel, before starting on her feet. Watching me. “What’s the matter with you?” she asks, suspicious.
“Me?” I ask over a laugh.
“Yes, you. I just turned the air blue with my bad language and you’ve got nothing to say about it?”
I cock a sardonic eyebrow. “I have plenty to say about it. In fact, I’d like to fuck some sense into you right now but, unfortunately for me, we have guests.” I finish drying her foot and lift it to my mouth, biting gently on the end of her middle toe. Her chest dips, her fingers clawing the edge of the counter. So I suck it into my mouth, relishing the sparkle in her eyes. That’s better.
“Our guests will be leaving soon,” she whispers. “So perhaps then you could fuck that sense into me.”
She’s goading me. Trying to get a fuck out of me rather than some easy, gentle lovemaking. “Perhaps,” I muse, dropping her foot and moving in, un-clawing her fingers and guiding her hand to my hair. She tugs gently, and I smile. “Until then, we have some facts to share with your mother.” I slam a kiss on her lips and swallow her groan of despair.
“I want to tell them,” she argues.
“When?”
“I’ll call her when they’re home.”
I laugh under my breath, pulling her down off the counter. “Sure. Like you were going to tell Patrick about me? Like you were going to tell him you can’t work for Mikael Van Der Haus anymore?” The mention of his name has Ava’s eyes dropping like rocks to my chest and my jaw tightening. The guy in the footage at the bar from the night Ava was drugged. He had all the credentials, looked just like Van Der Haus. I just need Jay to give me something clearer. More concrete. Then I can kill the fucker. “Come,” I say, leading Ava out of the kitchen.
“Jesse, please,” she pleads, but doesn’t put up any physical resistance. “I don’t want to ruin the day.”
“It won’t be ruined, because your mother will accept that this is what we want to do.”
“What do you want to do?” Elizabeth asks, looking at my spare hand, frowning when she doesn’t find any wine.
I stop Ava in front of them and look down at her. I can tell we’re going to get nowhere if I leave this to my wife-to-be, so I take the lead. We’re getting married in two weeks. Less than two weeks, actually. Twelve days. We haven’t got time to pussyfoot around Ava’s mother. “We’re not getting married next summer,” I say, feeling Ava move closer into my side, almost behind me. Hiding.
“Oh?” Elizabeth says. “The following summer then. I suppose that will give us more time, but we should still get your dress sorted, darling. I’ve texted Aunty Angela. She’s so happy for you!” Going back to her mobile, Elizabeth scans the screen. “She’s got no plans for Saturday July tenth, so it’s a date.”
“That’s a bit late,” I say.
“For a dress? No, no. Eighteen months seems reasonable.” Elizabeth flicks across her phone. “This site has some wonderful dresses, Ava. I’ll send you the link.”
“We’ll need it a bit sooner,” I go on, as Ava slinks farther behind my back.
“What?” Elizabeth doesn’t look up from her phone, but Joseph is watching Ava and me standing in front of them, curious. “Oh, Ava, white or ivory?” Elizabeth bangs on. “Pearls, diamantes?” She gasps, hand on her chest. “Veil? Oh, you must let your great aunty Glenda make it. She made mine and your aunty Angela’s.”
“We’re getting married a week on Saturday, Elizabeth,” I say clearly, waiting for it. Joseph sinks deeper down into the couch, obviously waiting for it, too, and Ava tenses behind me.
Elizabeth eyes lift, but her head remains low. “What?”
“A week Saturday,” I affirm. “At The Manor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, laughing. “Who organizes a wedding in less than two weeks?”
“Me.”
Her face falls, probably because she’s comprehended how serious I am. “But half of your guest list will probably have plans already at such short notice.”
I shrug. “This wedding is for us. Not for our guests.” I’d happily whisk Ava off to a foreign land tonight if I could, but I can’t. You need licenses, papers from whatever country you’re marrying in, blah, blah, blah. So The Manor it is. I just need a license to hold ceremonies. I smile. I know just the man.
“But . . .” Elizabeth slowly gets to her feet. “But . . . but . . .”
“But . . .” I say.
“But . . .”
“Elizabeth,” Joseph murmurs quietly, with soft warning.
“I won’t hear of it,” she snaps. “No. I won’t allow it. For Christ’s sake, people will think . . .” She gasps.
“I’m not pregnant before you start,” Ava grates, pulling my interested eyes back to where she remains half-hidden behind me, avoiding the shit flying. She’s not? Says who, the doctor, Ava, or an actual test?