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Malpas Jodi Ellen - Beneath This Man Beneath This Man

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Фантастика и фэнтези

Детективы и триллеры

Проза

Любовные романы

Приключения

Детские

Поэзия и драматургия

Старинная литература

Научно-образовательная

Компьютеры и интернет

Справочная литература

Документальная литература

Религия и духовность

Юмор

Дом и семья

Деловая литература

Жанр не определен

Техника

Прочее

Драматургия

Фольклор

Военное дело

Последние комментарии
оксана2018-11-27
Вообще, я больше люблю новинки литератур
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Professor2018-11-27
Очень понравилась книга. Рекомендую!
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Vera.Li2016-02-21
Миленько и простенько, без всяких интриг
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ст.ст.2018-05-15
 И что это было?
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Наталья222018-11-27
Сюжет захватывающий. Все-таки читать кни
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Beneath This Man - Malpas Jodi Ellen - Страница 17


17
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‘No,’ He smirks, ‘Nothing permanent, anyway.’

Oh, I can imagine. I’m about to lecture him on being a player when my mobile starts dancing around the table and Temper Trap’s Sweet Disposition blares from the ringer. I smile. Is he trying to be funny? And while I’m grateful he has changed the track assigned to his number, I really do need to have a word about his telephone manners.

It’s just gone one o’clock. I thought he would be longer than this, but maybe he’s still at The Manor and just checking in on me.

‘Hey, I love that track!’ Dan exclaims. ‘Let it ring.’ He starts singing along to it.

I laugh. ‘I just need to take this.’ I leave the table with my phone and Dan with a furrowed brow. I know he’s going to be suspicious that I’m removing myself from his presence to take this call. I’ll say it was Kate.

I walk out into the sunshine. ‘Hey.’ I say cheerfully.

‘Where the fuck are you?’ he bellows down the phone.

I pull it away to save my eardrums. Oh, overreaction. ‘I’m with my brother, calm down.’

‘Calm down?’ he yells. ‘I get home and you’ve ran out!’

‘Stop fucking shouting!’ Is this really necessary? The man is impossible. I never said I was going to be waiting around for him. Jesus Christ, I’m hurling towards the ground after being abruptly tossed off of Central Jesse Cloud Nine.

‘Watch your fucking mouth.’ he yells.

I look up to the sky in despair. ‘I’ve not ran out. I’ve come to meet my brother. He’s back from Australia.’ I state calmly. ‘I was supposed to see him yesterday, but I got a little caught up elsewhere.’ I didn’t aim for sarcasm, but it comes naturally.

‘I apologise for inconveniencing you.’ he hisses.

‘Excuse me?’ I’m stunned by his hostility.

‘How long will you be?’ His tone hasn’t changed; he still sounds like a pig. I might just go to Kate’s now. I’m not prepared to have strips ripped off me for seeing my brother.

‘I said I would spend the day with him.’

‘Day!’ he shouts. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Why? Because I knew he would trample it! ‘Your phone interrupted me and you were sidetracked with problems at The Manor.’ I spit.

It goes quiet down the phone, but I can still hear his laboured breathing. I can imagine he’s been running around his penthouse in a frenzy searching every room. Oh hell, this is going to be hard work. That corner I thought we had turned has just been trampled.

‘Where are you?’ His voice has softened slightly, but he’s clearly still unhappy about my undisclosed outing.

‘I’m at a cafe.’

‘Where?’

There is not a chance in hell I’m telling him that. He’ll turn up, I know it, and then I will be left explaining to Dan who he is and where he came from. ‘It doesn’t matter where. I’ll be back at yours later.’

‘Come back to me, Ava.’ It’s definitely a demand.

I drop my shoulders. ‘I will.’

A silence spreads between us and I’m very abruptly reminded of the small part of Jesse that sends me crazy. Did I really wish this back?

‘Ava?’

‘I’m here.’

‘I love you.’ he says softly, but it’s strained. I know he wants to rant and probably haul me back to Lusso, but he can’t do that if he can’t locate me.

‘I know you do, Jesse.’ I hang up and exhale an exhausted breath. I’m beginning to wish I didn’t know about Jesse’s alcohol issue – the issue that everyone else seems to be brushing off as no consequence, whatsoever. I, on the other hand, am now worrying myself stupid that I will push him to have another gorging session. I’ve always been an advocate of knowledge is power, but at the moment I’m favouring ignorance is bliss.  Then, I could just hang up and think he’s an unreasonable control freak and be content to let him stew. But now I know, I’ve hung up and I’m worried that I’ve just dangled the proverbial bottle of vodka under his nose.

‘Is everything okay?’

I turn and see Dan approaching with my bag over his shoulder. I give a small smile. ‘Fine.’

‘I settled the bill. Here.’ He hands me my bag.

‘Thanks.’

‘Are you all right?’ He frowns.

No, I‘m bloody not. The stretched truth is stretching my patience. ‘Yeah, fine.’ I plaster on a cheery face. ‘So, what do you want to do?’

‘Tussauds?’ he asks with a big smile.

I return his smile. ‘Absolutely, let’s go.’

He holds his arm up for me to link and off we go. I’ve lost count of the amount of times we’ve roamed the halls of Madam Tussaud’s. It’s tradition. There is not one waxwork that we haven’t got a photo with. We’ve snuck around the place, entered restricted zones and done whatever it took to get the photographs we needed to keep our scrapbook up-to-date. Childish, but it’s our thing.

We have an amazing day. I’ve laughed so much my cheeks ache. As it turns out, the only new waxworks’ in Tussaud’s are royalty. I had a photo with William and Kate, and Dan was captured squeezing The Queen’s boobs. We had dinner at our favourite Chinese in China Town and a few cheeky wines in a bar. I felt slightly guilty when I took my first sip, but I could hardly ask for water – Dan would have asked why. Besides, once I got the first glass down, the second was easier.

I hug Dan tight as we say our goodbyes at the tube. ‘When are you going back?’ I ask.

‘Not for a few weeks. I’m going up to Manchester tomorrow to catch up with some university friends, but I’m back in London next Sunday so I’ll see you again before I leave, okay?’

I release him from my squeeze. ‘Okay. Call me as soon as you’re back in London.’

‘I will, take care, yeah?’ He kisses me on the cheek. ‘I’m on my mobile if you need me.’

‘Okay.’ I smile. He’s worried.

He strides off and leaves me wishing he could stay forever. I’ve never needed him so much.

As I enter the foyer of Lusso, Clive is on the telephone. I walk straight past his desk on my way to the lift. I really don’t feel like chatting.

‘Thank you, goodbye. Ava!’ he shouts after me, and I stop and roll my eyes before turning to face him.

‘Yes?’

He shoves the phone into its cradle and hurries towards me. ‘A lady stopped by. I tried calling up to Mr Ward, but he didn’t answer. I’m afraid I couldn’t let her up. Mature woman.’

 ‘A lady?’ I ask. He’s got my attention now.

‘Yes, nice woman with blonde wavy hair. She said it was urgent, but of course, you know the rules.’ He raises his eyebrows.

Oh yes, I know the rules and for once I’m relieved he has stuck to the rules. Blonde, wavy hair? Not Sarah, surely. ‘How mature?’

He shrugs. ‘Mid-forties.’

Okay. I don’t like Sarah but she definitely doesn’t look like she’s in her forties. ‘What time was this, Clive?’

He looks at his watch. ‘Only half an hour ago.’

‘Did she give her name?’

He frowns. ‘No, she didn’t. I met her at the gate. She was expecting to go straight up to the penthouse, but when I wouldn’t let her through and said I would have to call Mr Ward, she started getting a bit vague with me.’

‘No worries, Clive. Thanks.’ I pivot and carry on towards the elevators.

I board the lift and punch in the code. A lady? And a vague lady who thought she could march up to the penthouse unannounced?

The elevators doors open and I step out to find Jesse’s front door open. Does this man have no regard for home security? Granted, he has a twenty four hour concierge downstairs to monitor the comings and goings, and a team of security, but a bit of common sense wouldn’t go a miss. I shut the door behind me and instantly feel on my guard. The sound system is playing. It’s not as ear piercing as last time, but it’s the track playing that has me on edge. It’s the same one I walked in to last Sunday when I found Jesse drunk.

Angel.

I run through the penthouse, leaving the music on. Finding Jesse is more important than turning off the tormenting song which reminds me of that awful day. I head straight for the terrace, but he’s not there. I dump my bag and take the stairs two at a time and bolt into the bedroom. Nothing. Where is he?