Page 129 of This Woman Forever
Drew smirks and leaves, and I put myself back in my office, flexing my fists, working away the tension. I also remind myself that I wanted to talk to Steve, that he could help me. Mikael Van Der Haus still hasn’t reared his smarmy Danish head, and the longer he remains underground, the more certain I am it must have been him who drugged Ava. I just can’t wrap my mind around such vindictiveness and desperation. His beef is with me, not my wife.
I sit on the couch and stand up again. Perch on the edge of my desk. Stand again. I settle for behind my desk. He’ll have more of a chance to escape if I fly at him.
Or maybe not.
The door opens and Drew appears. I nod as he stands aside and lets Steve enter. “Jesse,” he says, his lips pressed into a straight line, the usual cockiness nowhere in sight.
I swallow down the dormant anger hearing his voice spikes. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t got me in a choke hold.”
“Me too,” I admit. But, again, given the severity of the situation—my wife was drugged—I’m willing to put my grievance aside.
Whips. Lashes. The marks all over Ava’s back.
Drew closes the door and puts himself on the couch between my desk and Steve, who’s remained by the door. Close enough to intercept if I let my restraint ping. Drew must be concerned—I know he’d rather be upstairs.
“I needed to apologize,” Steve says.
“You mean apologize for whipping my wife until her skin broke and she was practically unconscious?” Just speaking those words has me fidgeting, the whole horrendous scene parading through my head again. I shake away the thoughts quickly before they take hold and Drew’s forced to play kamikaze. “Does Juliette know about...”
He shakes his head, and with that gives me all the ammo I need... should I need it. “And I’d rather she didn’t,” he confirms.
“I need you to look into someone for me.”
Steve doesn’t hesitate. “Name?”
“Mikael Van Der Haus.” I can feel Drew’s uneasiness and flick him a look. I’m good. I’ve got this. He can leave. And he does, closing the door quietly behind him. “Danish,” I go on. “Owns a development company.” I write down Van Der Haus’s name and his company name, wandering over to Steve and passing it to him. He looks caught between relief and wariness. “Call me if you dig anything up.” Leave it transactional. I saw his face the night I carried Ava out of here covered in his whip marks. He was shocked, and something tells me his disbelief wasn’t only due to my reaction. He wants to right his wrongs, so he’ll do this. Plus, he doesn’t want me to tell his wife about the depth of his debauched time while he frequented the rooms of my manor.
“Any background information?”
“Ava was drugged the night before...” I clear my throat. “The night before...” I don’t need to finish. He knows. “One of the security team at the bar got some CCTV footage showing a man in the vicinity. It looks like Van Der Haus.”
“Did you report this?”
“No, I don’t want the police involved.” Ironic, since I’m talking to a cop. Steve stares at me long and hard. He knows what’s happening here. I will find Van Der Haus and deliver my own kind of justice, and Steve will let me.
“What’s his connection to Ava?” he goes on, folding the piece of paper and slipping it into his pocket.
“He’s a client. He’s also the ex-husband of Freja Van Der Haus. She is... was a member.”
“Freja?”
“Yeah, Freja.”
“You...”
“Yes, I did.” Say no more.
Steve nods in understanding and takes some backward steps to the door, almost as if he doesn’t want to take his eyes off me in case I change my mind and lunge at him. “I really am remorseful, Jesse.”
I know he’s not here to grovel so he can worm his way back into The Manor. So he’s sincere. Doesn’t mean I’ll ever forgive him. Or forget. “Thanks for stopping by.” I turn and face the masses of paperwork I’ve moved onto the floor, hearing the door close.
I need to occupy my mind with something numbing and mundane before I go after him, drag him back, and pummel him. So I get on my knees and start sifting through the piles, setting aside any that look even remotely official. Which is a lot. “God damn you, Sarah,” I whisper, my mind short-circuiting.
The door swings open, and Ava appears. And isn’t she a sight for sore eyes.
She looks at the mess surrounding me and smiles. I think there’s a tinge of guilt in there somewhere. “Hey.”