Author: Jodi Ellen Malpas

I scoff, following it up with a cough to disguise my reaction to Patrick’s casualness regarding the invoice he huffed about, only a few hours ago. He’s changed his tune.

‘I’ve been away. My staff overlooked it.’ Jesse explains. I release a thankful rush of air.

‘I knew there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Was it business or pleasure?’ Patrick sounds genuinely interested. I know different. He’s mentally calculating how much money he might be able to make out of Jesse. He’s a dear man, but he’s mad about turnover.

Jesse turns his eyes on me. ‘Oh, definitely pleasure.’ he says categorically.

I shrink further into my swivel chair, feeling my face turning a thousand shades of red. I can’t even look him in the eye. What is he trying to do to me?

‘I’d like to make some appointments with Miss O’Shea while I’m here. We need to get a quick turn around on this.’ he adds surely.

Ha! I very nearly remind him that he, supposedly, doesn’t make appointments to fuck me. But if I did that, I suspect I would firstly get the sack, and secondly, receive a sense fuck to rival all others. So, I keep my mouth firmly shut. Appointments? This man is impossible.

‘Absolutely,’ Patrick rumbles. ‘Are you looking for a design, or a design consultation and/or project manage?’

I roll my eyes. I know the answer to this question. After my perfectly exasperated eye roll is executed, I lift my eyes to Jesse and find him watching me, clearly struggling to maintain his serious face.

‘The whole package.’ he answers. What the hell does that mean?

‘Super!’ Patrick claps his hands together. ‘I’ll leave you with Ava. She’ll take good care of you.’ Patrick offers his hand and Jesse takes it, keeping his eyes right on me.

I’ve never been in a more difficult situation in my life. I’m sweating, fidgeting and sat so far back in my chair, I’m probably blending in with the leather.

‘I know she will,’ He smiles, turning his green pools back to Patrick. ‘If you give me your company bank details, I’ll arrange an immediate bank transfer. I’ll also make an advanced payment on the next stage. It will save any future delays.’

‘I’ll get Sally to note them down for you.’ Patrick leaves us, but I don’t relax.

Jesse sits back down in front of me, his irritatingly handsome face displaying an abundance of joy at my nervousness. The full package? Definitely pleasure? I should bash him around the head with my paper weight!

Dragging myself out of my dumbstruck state, I shift all of the drawings that are littering my desk and pull my diary over. ‘When are you free?’ I ask. I know I sound highly unprofessional and terse, but I don’t care. He’s taking his power trip too far now.

‘When are you?’

I look up, finding a green, satisfied stare. I lean in. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ I spit, rather immaturely.

‘What about screaming for me?’

My eyes widen in shock. ‘Neither.’

‘That may make business a little tricky.’ he pouts, his lips dancing at the corners.

‘Will it be business, Mr Ward, or pleasure?’

‘Pleasure, all the way.’ he answers darkly.

‘You do realise that you’re paying for me to have sex with you,’ I whisper on a hiss. ‘That, in effect, makes me a hooker!’

I watch as a flash of anger passes over his face and he shoots forward in his chair. ‘Shut up, Ava.’ he warns. ‘And just so you know, you will be screaming later,’ He leans back again. ‘When we make friends,’

I sigh heavily. It would be better, all-round, if I dropped this contract, right now. Patrick will keel over with shock, but either way, I’m totally knackered. Continue like this, I’m bound to be rumbled. Then he really will get to fuck me when he pleases. I’m losing control here. Losing control? I laugh to myself. Have I ever had control since this beautiful man trampled into my life?

‘Is something funny?’ he asks seriously.

I make a meal of flicking though the pages of my diary harshly. ‘Yes, my life,’ I mutter. ‘When shall I pencil you in?’

‘I don’t want to be pencilled in anywhere, pencil can be erased.’ His tone is smooth and confident. I look up from my diary and find a large, permanent, black marker pen being waved under my nose. ‘Every day.’ he states calmly.

‘Every day? Don’t be so stupid!’ I blurt a bit too loudly.

He gives me his roguish grin as he removes the lid from the marker. Reaching over, making a point of brushing his fingers over my hand, he pulls my diary away from me. I shiver, and he gives me that knowing look. Turning to tomorrow’s page in my diary, he coolly runs a line through the middle, writing “Mr Ward” across the page in big, black letters. He then skims past the weekend. ‘You’re mine then, anyway.’ he muses to himself.

What? Am I? Who says?

He arrives at Monday’s page and finds my ten o’clock appointment with Mrs Kent. Locating an eraser from my desk tidy, he slowly rubs it out, looking up at me when he leans down to blow the fragments of rubber from the page. He’s really enjoying this, while I’m sat back in my chair watching him trample all over my work diary, at the same time trying to gage how serious he is. I fear he’s completely serious.

He proceeds to put a big, black line through Monday as well. What is he doing? I glance around the office, noticing my colleagues have got bored of the Jesse and Ava show, knuckling down with some work instead.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask calmly.

He pauses, looking up at me. ‘I’m making my appointments.’

‘You’re not happy enough controlling the social aspect of my life?’ I’m surprised at how calm I sound. I feel completely ram raided. This man has untold front and confidence. ‘I thought you didn’t make appointments to fuck me?’

‘Watch your mouth,’ he cautions me. ‘I’ve told you before, Ava. I’ll do whatever it takes.’

‘For what?’ My voice is barely a whisper.

‘To keep you,’

He wants to keep me? What? For sex or more? I don’t ask that, though. ‘What if I don’t want to be kept?’ I ask instead.

‘But you do, by me. This is why I’m having such a hard time trying to figure out why you keep fighting me off.’ He returns his attention to my diary and sets about putting a line through every day for the rest of the academic year.

When he reaches the end, he slams it shut and stands. His confidence knows no bounds. And how does he know I want to be kept by him? Maybe, I don’t. Christ, I’m trying to lie to myself now. I’m going to have to buy a new dairy. I mentally applaud myself for backing up my appointments on my email calendar, a precautionary measure in case I lost my diary, not because some unreasonable control freak might erase them all from my planner.

‘What time will you be finished work?’ he asks.

‘Six-ish,’ I can’t believe I’ve just answered that without a second’s hesitation.

‘-ish,’ he mouths, putting his hand out over my desk. He wants me to shake his hand? I reach up, mentally demanding my hand not to tremble, and place it gently in his. The familiar fizzle flies through me when our hands connect, his fingers brushing gently over my wrist as he slowly strokes down the centre of my palm.

My eyes fly up to his. ‘See?’ he whispers, before pulling away and striding out of my office, collecting an envelope from Sally’s outstretched hand on the way.

Holy fucking hell! My heart is convulsing in my chest, and I’m breaking out in an uncomfortable sweat as I sit at my desk, frantically fanning my burning face with my coffee coaster. How does he do these things to me? Tom looks over at me with wide eyes and a whoa stare. I blow out a long, lung full of air in an attempt to regulate my hammering heart. He wants to keep me? What? Keep me and control me, keep me to love me or keep me to fuck me senseless? He’s already fucked me pretty senseless. He must have, because I keep going back for more. No, I don’t keep going back. I keep getting forced back. Is he forcing me, or do I go willingly? Oh, I don’t even know anymore. Oh Lord, I’m a fucking mess!

I start folding away my drawings of The Life Building before pulling my email calendar up so I can start transferring my appointments back into my diary.

Oh, I’m in some major deep shit. But he’s totally right...I do want to be kept by him. I’m completely addicted.

I need him.

Chapter 28

I’m the last to leave the office. I set the alarm, lock the office door behind me and jump out of my skin when I hear the familiar scream of a high powered engine. I turn around, seeing Jesse pull up to the kerb on his bike. I sigh, my shoulders slumping dramatically. I don’t even know if I’m pissed anymore. Mental exhaustion has engulfed me. But I do know that I’m grateful Patrick has already left the building.

He takes his helmet off, dismounts from his bike and approaches me looking like he’s had a perfectly normal day. I feel defeated as I look up at him.

‘Good day at work?’ he asks.

I gape. He’s so thick skinned. ‘Not really.’ I answer on a frown, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

He observes me for a while, chewing his bottom lip, the cogs kicking into action. I hope he’s thinking about how unreasonable he’s been.

‘Can I make it better?’ he asks as he reaches for my arm and slides his warm palm down until he’s clasping my hand.

‘I don’t know, can you?’

‘I think I definitely can.’ He smiles, and I drop my head. ‘I’ll always make it better, remember that.’ he adds confidently.

I give myself whiplash when I snap my head up to look at him. ‘But you made it shitty in the first place!’

He pouts, hanging his head. I think he’s ashamed. Good. He should be. ‘I can’t help it.’ He shrugs guiltily.

‘Of course you can!’ I exclaim.

‘No, with you, I can’t help it,’ he states in a matter-of-fact tone – a tone that suggests he completely gets it. I, however, never will. ‘Come here.’ He pulls me over to his bike and presents me with a large paper bag.

‘What’s this?’ I ask, looking into the bag.

‘You’ll need them.’ He reaches into the bag and pulls out a pile of black leather.

Oh, no! ‘Jesse, I’m not getting on that thing.’

He ignores me, unfolding the trousers and kneeling in front of me, holding them open for me to step into. He taps my ankle. ‘On.’

‘No!’ He can give me a sense fuck or the countdown all he likes – it’s not happening. No way. Hell will freeze over. He’s trampled all over my day, and now he wants to kill me on that death trap?

He heaves a tired breath and rises to his feet. ‘Listen to me, lady.’ He cups my cheek with his palm. ‘Do you honestly think I would let anything happen to you?’

I look at his soft eyes, clearly trying to reassure me. No, I don’t think he would let anything happen to me, but what about all of the other road users? They don’t give a toss about little old me on the back of that death trap. I’ll fall off, I know it.

‘They scare me.’ I admit. I’m such a baby.

He bends down, getting nose to nose with me, his minty breath soothing me. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Yes.’ I answer immediately. I trust him with my life. It’s my sanity I don’t trust him with.

He nods, dropping a kiss on the end of my nose before kneeling back down in front of me. I lift my foot when he taps my ankle, my heart flickering with nervousness as he removes my ballet pumps, feeds my feet into the trousers and pulls the leathers up my body, fastening them swiftly. Next, he collects a fitted, leather jacket and takes my bag before putting the jacket on me, followed by a pair of boots.