‘You’ve devoted enough time to trampling all over me.’ I blurt over my coffee cup. If this isn’t involved, then I don’t know what is.
He shakes his head. ‘You’re different. I told you, Ava, I’ll trample anyone who tries to get in my way. Even you.’
This I know. I’ve been trampled already when I refused to stay in. I’m glad my trampling ritual is a little different to that of others who have had the pleasure. Poor Cockney springs to mind immediately. He’s not interested in relationships? Where’s this going then?
Our breakfast lands on the table, smelling divine. Tucking in, I ponder his declaration of being out of control. The solution is pretty simple – stop being so unreasonable and challenging. He’ll keel over from a stress induced heart attack if he carries on the way he has.
‘Why am I so different?’ I ask. My voice is small.
He calves his way through his salmon. ‘I don’t know, Ava.’ he says quietly.
‘You don’t know much, do you?’ It’s all he bloody says when I try and determine a reason for his controlling ways. I spark “all sorts of feelings”. What am I supposed to make of all this?
‘I know that I’ve never wanted to f**k a woman more than once. You, though, I really do.’
I recoil in horror, nearly choking on a piece of toast.
He has the decency to look apologetic. ‘That came out wrong.’ He puts his fork down, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. ‘What I’m trying to say is that…well…I’ve never cared about a woman enough to want more than sex. Not until I met you,’ His head rub gets more aggressive. ‘I can’t explain it, but you felt it, didn’t you?’ He looks at me. I think I see desperation for confirmation. ‘When we met, you felt it.’
I smile lightly. ‘Yes, I felt it.’ I’ll never forget it.
His expression changes instantly – he’s smiling again. ‘Eat your breakfast.’ He points his fork at my plate, and I resign myself to living without the knowledge I so desperately want. If he doesn’t know, there’s not much chance of me ever knowing. Would it make it easier to cope with him if I knew what made his complex mind tick?
Regardless, he’s just – in not so many words – told me that he wants more than sex, hasn’t he? So, he cares about me. Does care equal control? And he’s never had a relationship? I can’t believe that for a second. Women throw themselves at this man. He can’t just screw them all once, surely? Christ, if he’s never f**ked a woman more than once, how many have there been? I’m just about to ask this question, but I halt mid-inhale. Do I want to know? I’ve been sleeping with this man with no protection, and even though he’s told me that he’s never not worn a condom – except with me – should I believe him?
‘We need to buy you a dress for The Manor’s anniversary party.’ he declares, in an obvious tactic to distract me from my pressing questions and thoughts. I’m sure he knows what I’m thinking.
‘I have plenty of dresses.’ I sound really unenthusiastic, which is fine, because I am. I’m only half comforted by the fact that Kate will be there to help me through an evening of Sarah glaring at me and passing sly remarks. Has he f**ked Sarah? I imagine it’s possible if he only f**ks women once. The thought makes me stab at my breakfast a little too harshly.
He frowns. ‘You need a new one.’ It’s that tone that dares me to challenge him.
I sigh at the prospect of, yet another, wardrobe argument. I’ve more than enough options without buying a new dress. Besides, even if I didn’t, I’d find something just to avoid a shopping trip with Jesse.
‘Anyway, I owe you one.’ He reaches over the table, pushing a loose tendril of hair behind my ear.
Yes, he does owe me one, but I don’t want it because I doubt I’ll have any say in what dress he buys me. ‘Do I get to choose?’
‘Of course,’ He places his knife and fork on his plate. ‘I’m not a complete control freak.’
I nearly drop my cutlery. Is he winding me up? ‘Jesse, you’re really very special.’ I load my voice with all the sweetness the statement deserves.
‘Not as special as you,’ He winks at me. ‘Are you ready to hit Camden, baby?’
I nod, fishing my purse from my bag, while he watches me with a bewildered look. I put a twenty under the salt shaker on the table and observe as he stands on an exaggerated huff, digs into his pocket and replaces my money with his, snatching my purse from my hand and stuffing my note back inside.
Control freak!
My phone starts dancing around the table, but before I can even instruct my brain to pick it up, Jesse has snatched it from under my nose. ‘Hello?’ he greets the mystery caller.
I look at him in disbelief. He really doesn’t have any phone manners. Who is it, anyway?
‘Mrs O’Shea?’ he says coolly.
My mouth falls open. No! Not my Mother! I try to snatch my phone back from him, but he dances away from me with a wicked grin on his maddeningly handsome face.
‘I have the pleasure of being with your beautiful daughter.’ he informs my mother. I move around the table, and he shifts the other way, frowning at me.
I clench my teeth and wave my hand frantically at him, but he just raises his eyebrows and shakes his head slowly.
‘Yes, Ava has told me lots about you, I’ll look forward to meeting you.’
Oh, the irritating twat! I’ve not mentioned much at all to Jesse about my parents, and I certainly haven’t mentioned him to them. Oh God, this is all I need. Glaring at him, I reach over, but he jumps back.