Beneath This Man

He pouts, and I shake my head to affirm my answer. And anyway, she will be there, throwing her looks and nasty little comments about. Not a chance.

‘Impossible woman.’ he sulks, standing with me in his arms. I’m placed on my feet and given a chaste kiss. ‘I’m going to get a shower, you’ll come.’ He arches a suggestive eyebrow and hits me with his roguish grin. I don’t mind so much when he demands things like that.

‘I’ve had a shower.’

‘Well you’ll have another with me.’

‘I’ll be up in a minute. I need to call Kate.’ I pull myself from his grip and make my way back to the kitchen. ‘Where’s my phone?’

‘Charging on the side. Don’t be long.’ he calls after me.

I find my phone and ring Kate.

‘Hello?’ Her croaky voice comes over the phone. She sounds hung over.

‘Hey, feeling bad?’ I ask.

‘No, tired. What time is it?’

I glance at the oven. ‘Eleven.’

‘Shit!’ she exclaims, and I hear a commotion in the background. ‘Samuel, you loser. I’m late! Ava, I’m supposed to be in Chelsea delivering a cake! I’ll call you later.’

‘Hey, are we still out tonight?’ I shout before she hangs up on me.

‘Of course. Are you still allowed?’ she teases.

‘Yes! I’ll be at yours at seven.’

‘Brill! See you then.’

I hang up and my phone immediately alerts me of a text message. I open it as the penthouse monitor system starts bleeping at me. Walking over to the cordless device that will connect me to Clive, I glance down to my screen.

My blood runs cold. It’s Mikael.

I don’t want to look at it, but my thumb presses down on the open button before I can convince my brain to delete it without reading it.

I can’t make Monday. I’m back in Denmark temporarily. I will be in touch upon my return to re-arrange our meeting.

My stomach flies up to my mouth, choking me, and my phone starts to shake in my hand. What the hell am I going to do? I don’t even consider advising Jesse of this. He’ll spiral into meltdown, without a doubt. I delete the message immediately, knowing Jesse’s bad phone manners will have him finding it. I don’t reply either. At least I’ve got a bit more time to figure this out and to speak to Patrick. How long will he be gone? How long have I got to prepare for that meeting? I contemplate texting him back to tell him I already know about his wife and Jesse, but then the intercom shrieks again, startling me.

I answer to Clive. ‘Ava, there’s a delivery here for you. I’ll be up in a minute.’

I don’t have a chance to ask what it is or who it’s from. Clive hangs up. I walk back into the kitchen, apprehensive and nervous, and start scrolling through my phone, searching for the PIN facility so I can prevent Jesse from intercepting any more messages that Mikael might send. He’s going to get so suspicious when he finds it’s got a lock on it, but I would rather deal with his slighted state than deal with a six foot three inch whirlwind flying through the penthouse. He knows that his bad phone manners annoy me, so it shouldn’t be very difficult to brush this off. I have no other choice.

I make my way to the door. I’ll deal with this on Monday morning when Jesse isn’t within such close proximity of me and my phone. Until then, I need to put on an unaffected, relaxed face, and I really must speak to Patrick.

I open the door and hear the elevator arrive, then the unmistakable sound of Clive grumbling. Curiously walking towards the elevator, I find Clive heaving box after box and bag after bag.

‘Ava, you have a serious problem. I think you are what they call a shopaholic. Do you want it all inside?’ he huffs.

‘Urh, yeah.’ I look and see Harrods bags and gift boxes everywhere. What the hell? I’m like a spare part, holding the door open, mouth gaped, as Clive hoofs them all through and dumps them in the penthouse.

I can’t believe he’s done this. Why didn’t I suspect something was amiss when he so willingly let me have my way when bargaining with him? Or let me think I got my way, more to the point. The man must have blown a ridiculous amount of money yesterday.

Clive dumps the last bag and starts making his way back to the door. ‘That’s your lot. Was there anything left?’

I look bewilderedly up at Clive’s back. ‘Pardon?’

He turns and frowns. ‘At the store, did you buy them out?’

‘Urhhh, yeah. Thanks, Clive.’

‘Oh, a young lady stopped by.’ Clive informs me, but then instantly snaps his mouth shut, obviously realising his error.

That soon snaps me from my dazed state. ‘Really?’ I blurt.

His old eyes are wide. ‘Urm…I don’t know…’ He starts walking back. ‘Actually, maybe it was for a different resident. Can’t be sure.’ He laughs nervously. ‘It’s my age.’

‘Yeah, whatever, Clive. Short black hair?’ I ask. He said mature when referring to the blonde wavy one, who I now know to be Mikael’s wife – or ex-wife.

‘Can’t be sure, Ava.’

I actually feel a little sorry for him. The poor man shouldn’t have to deal with this. ‘Let’s keep this quiet, shall we?’

‘Oh?’ He looks relieved.

‘Yes, you don’t tell Jesse about the young woman, and I won’t tell anyone about our neighbours habits.’

He sucks in a sharp gasp. Oh yes. I play dirty, old man. I walk over and shut the door in his face. Can my poor brain cope with much more. I’m not telling Jesse. I don’t want him contacting Coral, helping her, seeing her. I’m brimming with uncertainties and fear, battling raging jealousy and I’ve just set myself up for a lifetime of this. I agreed to marry him. Am I stupid?