Beneath This Man (This Man Trilogy)

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  Slamming the fridge door, I steam out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I can’t even look at him at the moment. As I enter the bedroom and slam yet another door, I stand and wonder…what now? I should just leave – give us both some space to calm down. This is too intense, too quickly. It’s poisonous, crippling.

  I take myself into the vast bathroom and shut the door behind me. The surroundings of this whole penthouse are more familiar than they should be. After spending months designing and coordinating the works, I feel at home. I’m probably more at home than Jesse; he’s not even lived here for a month and one week of that was spent ridiculously drunk or unconscious.

  I wander over to the chaise lounge in the window and gaze out across the docks. The people down below are going about their everyday business, strolling around or having an evening drink in the bars, all looking untroubled and relaxed. It’s probably not the case for all of them, but in my messed up state, I selfishly think that no one else could be as troubled as me. I’m head over heels in love with a man who has the most extreme temper and challenging ways. At the other end of the spectrum, though, he’s the most loving, sensitive, protective man in the universe. If John’s right, and he is only like this with me, should we be together? He’ll be dead by the time he’s forty from heart failure, and it will be my fault. With Jesse, when times are good, they are incredible, but when they are bad, they are unbearable.

  I feel damned and blessed all at once for having found him.

  I sigh wearily, putting my head in my hands in desolation, feeling the tears brimming and a lump in my throat forming. I thought I was beginning to find out what I needed to know but as time goes on, it’s becoming obvious that I haven’t, and with Jesse keeping his lips firmly shut, evading again, it doesn’t look like I’m going to find out anytime soon – unless I ask Mikael…

  The door flies open and Jesse comes crashing in, looking like he’s been electrocuted. He’s visibly shaking and the main artery in his neck is bulging. While I’ve calmed significantly, he, it would seem, has not. He holds up something in his hand.

  ‘What the FUCK is this?’ He looks like he could spontaneously combust at any moment. I frown but then realise he’s holding up the flight details that Patrick gave me.

  Oh Jesus, I’m in for it now.

  Hang on a minute. That was in my bag. ‘You’ve been through my bag!’ I’m shocked. I don’t know why, he does it all the fucking time. He doesn’t look ashamed or apologetic. He just waves the paper in front of my face while his chest puffs in and out erratically.

  I push past him and storm downstairs to my bag, hearing him follow me, his heavy breathing almost louder than his charging footsteps. I rip my bag from the floor and take it into the kitchen.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he shouts. ‘It’s not in there, it’s here.’ He thrusts the paper under my nose as I dump my bag on the island and start rummaging through it.

  I have no idea what I’m looking for.

  ‘You are not fucking going to Sweden or Denmark or any fucking where, for that matter!’ His voice is somewhere between anger and fear.

  I look at him. Yes, there is definitely fear in there. ‘Don’t go through my bag.’ I grind the words out through my incensed frustration and look at him accusingly.

  He backs away a little and chucks the paper on the island while maintaining his infuriated glare. ‘Why, what else are you hiding from me?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Let me tell you something, lady.’ He stalks forward, getting his face right in mine. ‘I will die before I let you leave the country with that womanising prick.’ A wave of pure dread travels across his face.

  ‘He won’t be coming!’ I shout, slamming my bag down for effect. I don’t know that for sure and in actual fact, I suspect he probably will. He’s got a plan and a motive. But why?

  ‘Yes, he will. He’ll follow you there, trust me. He’s relentless in his pursuit of women.’

  I actually laugh. ‘Just like you did?’

  ‘That was different!’ he barks. He closes his eyes and lifts his fingertips to his temples to start rubbing away the tension.

  ‘You’re impossible.’ I spit. I’ve lost the will to live.

  ‘And what are you doing taking vitamins?’ He scowls good and proper. ‘You’re pregnant, aren’t you?’

  Is he winding me up? I grab the vitamins from my bag and throw them at his head. His eyes widen as he ducks stealthily out of the way and they crash against the wall before falling to the kitchen floor. I need to regain control. I’m losing it in a big way.

  ‘I bought the vitamins for you.’ I yell, and he looks at me like I could possibly be a fruit loop. I’m close.

  ‘Why?’ He looks at the pot on the floor.

  ‘You put your body through the mill. Have you forgotten?’

  He scoffs. ‘I don’t need pills, Ava. I’ve told you.’ He stalks forward and grabs my arms, pulling me close to his face. ‘I am not a fucking alcoholic. If I drink now, it will be because you make me crazy mad!’ He shouts the last bit in my face.

  ‘You blame this all on me.’ I state. I’m not asking it as a question because he has already shouted it in my face.

  He drops me and walks away. ‘No, I don’t,’ His hands yank on the back of his hair in frustration. ‘What else are you keeping from me? Business trips with rich Dutch men,’ He glares at me. ‘Cosy visits to the ex-boyfriend?’

  ‘Cosy?’ I splutter. He thinks seeing Matt was cosy? ‘You stupid fucking man!’

  ‘MOUTH!’

  ‘Get lost!’ I shout. He really is on another planet. If he knows me as well as he claims he does, then he wouldn’t be throwing such stupid insinuations around.

  He throws his hands in the air in a Lord-give-me-strength gesture. ‘I can’t be around you right now,’ he bellows. He clenches his teeth, and I see the muscles of his jaw ticking. ‘I fucking love you, Ava. So fucking much, but I can’t look at you. This is fucked up!’ He stalks out of the kitchen.

  I hear the front door slam and moments later, an almighty crash. I run out to the penthouse foyer and Jesse is nowhere to be seen, but the mirrored door of the elevator is shattered into a million pieces. Through my derangement, I instantly think of what further damage he has done to his poor hand. Then, I cry. Hopeless, howl at the moon, blubbering. I feel completely helpless and out of control. I feel like I’m being tested, like he is trying me to see if I have the strength to get him through this total mess and on top of that, I’m battling with the incessant niggling thought that it’s me who has made him like this. It’s not healthy.

  I walk back into the big open living area and see all of my bags placed in a neat row at the side of the stairs. What should I do with them? Am I staying?

  I leave them and not knowing what else to do, I go and sit myself on a sun lounger on the decking area and cry to myself – loud, shoulder shaking, pouring tears crying, while I try to find some direction and guidance. I’m coming up with nothing between my relentless tears. I’m staring into space and feeling nothing but abandoned. Familiar feelings, all of which I never wanted to feel again, are flooding back into me – the empty feeling, the lost, lonely and dejected emotions that had me residing in the lowest levels of hell while Jesse wasn’t in my life. How have I come to need him so much? How has this happened to me? He’s walked out, and now I’ve got a good idea of how he felt when I did the same to him. It’s not a nice feeling. I feel like a massive part of me is missing.

  It is.

  The thought of him not being around makes my heart jump into my throat, makes my breath hitch and panic attack me. This is hopeless. I take myself back into the penthouse, upstairs to the master-suite and have a shower. I stand under the sprays of water absentmindedly soaping myself. Everywhere I turn, I see us – me and Jesse on the vanity unit, against the wall, on the floor, in the shower. We’re everywhere.

  I get out, suddenly needing to escape the reminders of our intimacies. I flop on the bed, but soon
shoot back up into a sitting position, panic invading my entire being. The times we have been apart he’s had a drink. Will he have a drink now? My hearts starts a painful gallop in my chest, working its way up to my mouth. The thought of Jesse mixed with alcohol is enough to have me dashing down to the kitchen to get my phone.

  As I enter the kitchen, I get a waft of something smelling really good. Oh! I run to the oven and turn it off, grab my phone and dial John.

  His low rumble seeps down the phone after the first ring. ‘He’s here, Ava.’

  ‘The Manor?’ I’m so relieved but at the same time, I wonder what he’s doing there.

  ‘Yeah,’ John sounds regretful. It makes me straighten up.

  ‘Should I come?’ I don’t know why I’m asking. I’m on my way back up the stairs to get dressed.

  He hums down the phone. ‘Probably, girl. He went straight to his office.’

  I hang up and scrape my wet hair up before shoving my discarded work clothes back on. My car keys. Jesse hasn’t given me my car keys back. I fly downstairs and dive into the boxes of my belongings, praying I’ll find the spare set. Eventually, I lay my hands on them.

  I get to the smashed elevator and punch the code in, at the same time thinking that Clive won’t be happy. Since I’ve been here, the maintenance bill must have gone through the roof.

  I run through the foyer in my heels and notice Clive knelt down behind his desk. I swiftly pass him without a word. I’ve no time for him this evening. The poor man will wonder what he has done to upset me.

  ‘Ava!’ I hear him yell after me. I wouldn’t stop, but it sounds like something is seriously wrong. Maybe the mystery woman has been back.

  ‘What’s up Clive?’

  He runs towards me in a panic. ‘You can’t go!’

  What’s he talking about?

  ‘Mr Ward,’ he pants. ‘He said you mustn’t leave Lusso. He was very insistent.’

  He what? ‘Clive, I haven’t time for this.’ I carry on my way, but he grasps my arm.

  ‘Please, Ava. I’ll have to call him.’

  I don’t believe this. He’s got the concierge performing prisoner guard duties now? ‘Clive, it’s not your job to do this,’ I point out. ‘Please, let go of my arm.’

  ‘Well, I did say as much myself, but Mr Ward can be very insistent.’

  ‘How much, Clive?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ he says quickly, re-arranging his hat with his spare hand. He couldn’t look guiltier if he tried.

  I pull my arm free from Clive’s grasp and walk over to the concierge desk. ‘Where do you keep Mr Ward’s numbers?’ I ask, scanning the hi-tech display screens in front of me. I notice Clive’s mobile sat on the desk too.

  Clive walks over with a befuddled look on his face. ‘It’s all linked to the phone through the system. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Do you have Mr Ward’s number on your mobile?’ I ask.

  ‘No Ava, It’s all pre-programmed into the system. Resident’s confidentiality and all.

  ‘Good.’ I yank out the wires leading from the phone system to the computer and drop them in a tangled mess to the floor where they meet Clive’s jaw.

  I hear the poor old boy’s shocked mumbling on my way out and feel a small pang of guilt. That will be yet another repair bill falling on the doormat of the penthouse.

  I jump in my car and instantly notice a little black device on the dashboard. I know what that is. I press the button and, like I knew they would, the gates to Lusso start opening.

  The whole way to The Manor, I pray repeatedly that I’m not going to find Jesse with a drink in his hand. This will be the first time I’ve been back since my discovery of its offered activities, but my need to see Jesse is overriding any nerves or reluctance I have.

  Chapter 15

  I pull up to the gates and press the intercom. John’s gruff rumble comes over the speaker and I wave at the camera, but the gates are already opening. I start the long drive up the gravel driveway towards The Manor and as I pull up into the circle courtyard, I look up at the limestone house, looming centrally and seemingly screaming out loud what goes on behind those doors.

  I pull in next to Jesse’s car and quickly check my face in the rear view mirror. Considering the events of the last few hours, the last few weeks actually, I don’t look too bad.

  John opens the door before I reach it and offers me a small, reassuring smile. It goes nowhere near making me feel any better.

  We walk into the imposing entrance hall together and past the stairs, restaurant and bar. I hear chatter and laughter, but I don’t bother looking. I’ve seen it all before, except now I know why they’re all here.

  ‘Has he calmed down?’ I ask as we reach the summer room. There are people scattered around the seating areas, drinking and talking, probably discussing what the evening could have in store for each of them. I’m assaulted by a dozen inquisitive stares, and I tense all over. Did they see Jesse raging?

  ‘Damn, girl, you affect that mother fucker.’ John laughs to himself, giving me a glimpse of that illusive gold tooth.

  I let out a rush of breath in agreement, but he affects me too. Does John realise that? ‘My man is challenging.’ I muse.

  John looks over at me and flashes one of his knock out, rare, all white and gold teeth smiles. ‘Challenging? That’s a word. I call him a fucking pain in the arse. I’ve got to admire his determination, though.’

  ‘Determination?’ I feel my brow knit. ‘Determination to be challenging?’ I quip.

  John stops as we reach Jesse’s office. ‘I’ve never seen him so determined to live.’

  I suddenly want to go back to the beginning of our walk to Jesse’s office so we can continue with this conversation. ‘What do you mean by that?’ I can’t help the confusion in my tone. That little statement has me really very confused. I can’t see any determination to live. All I see is determination to give himself a seizure with stress. He’s self-destructible.

  My breath hitches in my throat.

  He’s self-destructible. Jesse has said that before – when he took me on his bike, he said that. What did he mean?

  ‘Trust me, it’s a good thing.’ John looks at me affectionately. ‘Be easy on him.’

  ‘How long have you known him, John?’ I want to keep him talking.

  ‘Long enough, girl. I’ll leave you to it.’ He takes his mountain of a body and strides off down the corridor.

  ‘Thanks, John.’ I say to his back.

  ‘S’all good, girl. S’all good.’

  I stand outside Jesse’s office with my hand hovering over the doorknob. John’s unexpected and volunteered information, albeit vague, has pricked my curiosity more. Was he really self-destructible? My mind is racing with thoughts of alcohol, dabbling, lack of leathers and scars. I turn the handle and walk, with caution, into Jesse’s office.

  I’m immediately insulted by what I see. Jesse is sat in his big office chair facing Sarah, who is perched on the corner of his desk. The woman is a leech. A thud of possessiveness slaps me in the face, but it’s the bottle of vodka sat on Jesse’s desk that has me more fretful. I can fight off unwanted female attention, as long as it’s unwanted. The vodka is another matter entirely.

  They look up at me in unison, and she flashes me a fake, insincere smile. Then I notice a bag of ice resting on Jesse’s hand. I was right to have a touch of the green eyed monster. They look, in Jesse’s words, very cosy.

  Now there is absolutely no doubt in my mind that these two have had a sexual relationship. It’s written all over her face. I feel sick, jealous and dangerously possessive.

  The brazen interloper makes no attempt to shift her toned arse off Jesse’s desk. She just sits there, relishing in the obvious tension her presence is causing, but it’s the impostor in clear bottle form that I’m more threatened by. I can deal with her. I’m in no mood for silly games with ex-sexual conquests.

  I look at Jesse, and he meets my gaze. He’s still i
n his charcoal trousers, but the sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up. His dirty blonde hair is a glorious mess on top of his beautiful head, but despite him in all of his loveliness, he looks fearful and uneasy. I don’t blame him. I’ve just walked in on him looking cosy with another woman and with a bottle of the evil stuff in front of him. It’s my worst nightmares wrapped into one.

  He slowly turns his chair with his feet, away from the interloper and towards me.

  ‘Have you had a drink?’ My voice is even and strong. I feel anything but.

  He shakes his head. ‘No.’ he answers in a quiet voice.

  I’m uncertain whether his voice is small because of the woman or because of the vodka. He drops his head slightly, and the silence is awkward, but then Sarah rests a hand on Jesse’s arm and I want to dive on the desk and yank her hair out. Jesse flinches and snaps his eyes to mine.

  Who the fuck does she think she is? I’m not naive enough to believe that she is trying to be a supportive friend. ‘Do you mind?’ I look directly at her so there’s no mistaking who I’m talking to.

  She looks up at me questioningly, but makes no attempt to remove her hand from Jesse. I’m suddenly furious with myself for allowing another woman the opportunity to comfort him, especially this woman. That’s my job. Jesse pulls his arm away and her hand falls to the desk.

  ‘Excuse me?’ she splutters, which only serves to fuck me off more.

  ‘You heard me.’ I flash her a don’t-fuck-with-me glare and she smirks an almost undetectable smirk. She knows that I know her game. That should make our relationship a lot easier.

  Jesse flicks his eyes nervously between the two women having a stand-off in his office. God bless him, he’s keeping his mouth firmly shut, but then the cheeky bitch only leans down and kisses him on the cheek, letting her lips linger there for longer than is really necessary.