Page 227 of This Woman Forever
They sing their goodbyes and we leave, ready for another day. But not.
“Morning, Ava,” Clive says, happy as fucking Larry. Not for long. “Mr. Ward.”
“Clive,” I say, reminding myself that he’s an old boy, “how the hell did a woman make it past you and up to the penthouse?”
“Mr. Ward,” he says, laughing. “I’ve just come on shift.”
“Just?” Don’t tell me that young, good-looking fucker is responsible for this. I’ll have him fired.
“Yes, I relieved the new boy only ten minutes ago,” Clive confirms as he checks the time.
“When’s he back on shift?”
“I finish at four. Did he do something wrong, Mr. Ward? I have advised him of protocol.”
Protocol? “For what fucking use it’s done,” I mumble, leading a quiet Ava outside. “John’s taking you to work.”
“When do I get my Mini back?”
“You’re not. It’s a write-off.”
“Oh,” she whispers, becoming even more despondent. “Well, when do I get to drive myself to work, then?”
“When I find out who stole my car.” I’m honest as I pull the Range Rover door open, helping her into the passenger seat and getting her seatbelt on.
“Why aren’t you taking me to work?”
“I have a few meetings at The Manor.” I kiss her scowl away.
“Then why did you make me wait for you?”
“So I could put you in John’s car and remind you to speak with Patrick.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re beautiful. Have a good day.” I close the door and give John a look, not that I need to. He won’t let Ava out of his sight, and I’m not resting until I have some answers.
Slipping into the Aston, I pull out of Lusso and drive to The Manor to meet Cook. I order two coffees with Pete and take a seat in the bar rather than my office, knowing Sarah will be in there. I settle and open a message from John, raising my brows.
Peterson is in the office today.
“So let me hear you tell me otherwise, baby,” I muse, dialing John, but I know deep down Ava telling her boss doesn’t really make any difference. If Van Der Haus wants to reach my wife, there are plenty of options for him to take. Unfortunately for him, he has no shit on me now. No bullets to fire. Will that make a difference? I laugh under my breath as John answers.
“How did she seem?” I ask.
“Quiet. What’s happened?”
“Coral showed up this morning with a scan image of a baby. Told us it’s mine.” There’s silence. I can only imagine John’s face. “It’s not mine.”
“You’re sure?”
“I wasn’t, no, because Coral said she was four months gone. Ava worked out from the scan picture she was lying. Things got a little tense.”
“So it’s not yours?”
“Definitely not mine.” Thank the fucking gods, but it’s some poor fucker’s and I’m seriously feeling sorry for that man. “Ava does passive-aggressive well.”
“She’s got a good teacher.”