He turns around and looks at me in alarm. ‘I’ve run out of Sun-Pat.’

‘What?’ I laugh at his genuine distress. ‘You’ve run out of peanut butter?’

‘It’s not fucking funny!’ He slams the cupboard door shut before stalking over to the fridge, yanking it open, and shifting endless bottles of water. ‘What the fuck is Cathy playing at?’ he barks to himself.

I can’t help it. I double over with laughter. This is not the normal behaviour for someone who merely likes something. He’s addicted to it. My Lord is addicted to peanut butter and, quite possibly, is going to have a seizure if he doesn’t get his fix soon. I’m happily tittering away when I hear the fridge door slam. I bolt upright and do a rubbish job of restraining my grin. I’m clamping down painfully on my lip to prevent it.

‘What are you grinning at?’ He scowls at me, good and proper.

‘Why the compulsion for peanut butter?’ I ask quickly before re-clamping down on my lip.

He folds his arms across his chest, still scowling. ‘I like it.’

‘You like it?’

‘Yes, I like it.’

‘You’re in a bit of a pickle, considering you just like it.’ My lip drags through my teeth as I completely lose the battle to keep back my smirk.

‘I’m not in a pickle.’ he argues on a small laugh. ‘It’s no big deal.’

‘Okay,’ I shrug, still grinning. It is such a big deal.

He walks across the kitchen and around the island towards me, his eyes widening as my lower body comes into view. ‘What the hell are they?’ he blurts.

I look down at myself and back up to shocked green eyes. ‘Shorts.’

‘You mean knickers?’

I’m grinning again. ‘No, I mean shorts.’ I grab the hem on each leg of my denim shorts and pull them up. ‘If they were knickers, they’d look like this.’

He gasps a little, still studying the offending garment. ‘Ava, come on, be reasonable.’

‘Jesse,’ I sigh. ‘I’ve told you. If you want long skirts and roll neck jumpers, then go find someone your own age.’ I pull my shorts back down and kneel to tie the laces of my Converse, ignoring the grumbling and bristling emanating from every delicious fibre of my unreasonable man. ‘I might go for a swim at The Manor.’ I look up at him, and his grumpy face is back to horror.

‘In a bikini?’

I laugh. ‘No, in a snowsuit. Of course in a bikini.’ I’m really pushing my luck here, and I know it.

‘You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?’

‘I’d like to go for a swim.’

‘I’d like to strangle you.’ he snaps. ‘Why do you do this to me?’

‘Because you’re an unreasonable arse and you need to loosen up. You may be an old man, but I’m only twenty six. Stop acting like a caveman. What’ll happen if we go on a beach holiday?’

‘I thought we could go skiing.’ He’s the one smirking now. ‘I’ll show you how good I am at very extreme sports.’

I grin at his repeated words from our very first meeting, and then jump up to his body, my nose diving straight into his neck. ‘You smell luscious.’ I inhale in his yummy scent as he carries me out to the car, still wearing the short shorts.

* * *

We pull up at The Manor, and I’m quickly collected from my side of the car before being pulled up the steps and into the entrance hall. I hear the distant hum of chatting from the bar and smile when I see John approaching, looking ever the frightening mountain of a man.

‘Ava would like to go swimming.’ Jesse grumbles as John joins us and starts walking alongside, matching Jesse’s strides and my quick steps that are keeping up with him.

The big guy looks down at me, his eyebrows peeking above his wraparounds. ‘You do, girl?’

I nod. ‘It’s hot out there,’

The small smile flashing across John’s face is an indication that he knows damn well what I’m doing. Yes, I’m trying to bash all unreasonableness out of my husband, and this is the perfect place to start—at the sex haven of my Lord, where the revealing of flesh is an everyday occurrence. I’m not planning on ever stripping down and prancing around for everyone to see, but a swim in a decent bikini is a good place to start. If he can overcome it here, then he can overcome it anywhere.

We pass the bar, and I spot Sam. I can’t see his face, but his body slumped on a stool is a clear indication of how he’s feeling. My best friend is an idiot. She’s running away from something good, just to reignite something that’s terribly bad. Sam might have dragged her over to the dark side, but he doesn’t deserve to be crapped all over like this.

As soon as we enter Jesse’s office, he drops my hand and goes straight to the integrated fridge. He pulls out a jar of peanut butter, immediately unscrews the lid and plunges his finger in. John doesn’t bat an eyelid, instead taking a seat on the other side of Jesse’s desk, while I look on with a smile on my face. He walks casually over to his chair and takes his seat, slipping his finger into his mouth and sighing. He likes it?

‘What’s happening?’ he asks John around his finger.

‘Camera three is out of action. The surveillance company is scheduled to come sort it out.’ John shifts in his seat and pulls his phone from his pocket. ‘I’ll chase them up.’ He dials and puts his phone to his ear before standing and walking over to the window.

‘Baby, you okay?’

I flick my eyes from John’s back to Jesse, finding a concerned look on his face. ‘Yes, fine.’ I realise now that I’m still standing at his office door, so I start towards his desk and sit myself down in the chair next to John’s. ‘Daydreaming. Sorry.’

His finger slips into his mouth again. ‘What about?’

I smile. ‘Nothing. Just watching you settle now you have your peanut butter.’

He looks down at the jar and rolls his eyes. ‘Want some?’

‘No.’ My nose wrinkles in distaste, and he laughs, his eyes twinkling, his soft lines springing from his greens as he screws the lid on and slides the jar onto his desk. He’s had his fix. ‘How’s Sam?’

‘Shit. He won’t talk about it. How’s Kate?’

‘Not good.’ I’m not lying, she really isn’t.

‘What do you know? Why did she end it?’

I shrug as casually as possible. ‘Because of this place, probably.’ I’m resisting the urge to sit on my hands. I dare not even mention my brother. ‘It’s probably for the best.’

He nods thoughtfully. ‘Do you want to swim or stay with me?’

I know what answer he wants. ‘What are you going to do?’ I ask, eyeing up the piles of paperwork on his desk. I’ve never seen it so messy, and I know why. No Sarah. But I’m not feeling in the slightest bit guilty about it, even if it means Jesse’s desk looks like a bomb’s gone off on it.

He looks at the paperwork, too, and sighs. ‘This is what I’ll be doing.’ He flicks through one of the piles.

‘Why don’t you employ someone else?’

‘Ava, it’s not that straight forward in this line of work. You have to know someone, trust them. I can’t just call the job centre and ask them to send along someone who can type.’

Okay, now I am feeling a little guilty. He’s right. We’re talking about people of high society, people with high powered jobs. Jesse has told me that they delve into the history of these people to determine their financial status and medical history, including any criminal convictions. I suppose there is a confidentiality issue. ‘I could help.’ I offer reluctantly, even though I wouldn’t have the first idea where to start, but his overwhelmed expression as he scans the masses of paper on his desk is really nudging the guilt.

His eyes fly up. ‘You would?’

I shrug and grab the first piece of paper I can lay my hands on. ‘An hour here and there, I suppose.’ I scan the text in my hands and recoil. It’s a bank statement. At least I think it is. The figures on here look more like international telephone numbers, so it could be a telephone bill. I glance up at him. He’s grinning.