4. Ava
Chapter 4
Ava
The next night, Jameson opens the door to his suite, his hand on his hip.
“You’re late,” he says, running his hand through his tousled, inky hair. It shows small signs of silver tonight. Not that the gray in his hair has ever bothered me; no, it’s quite the opposite. There’s something sexy about the silver streaks, especially the ones on his short beard.
Not that I’ve ever told him.
“Rush hour traffic... your driver was on time and so was I.” I’m not sure why I decide to explain to Jameson, but he’s a stickler for timekeeping.
Luckily, today he takes it in stride and takes my purse, leading me into the heart of his suite. He drops my purse on the table and turns to me. “I want more, Ava. I’ve always wanted you.”
“You haven’t always wanted me,” I say, trying to withhold a sigh.
“Always,” he repeats. “I was waiting for the right time.”
Always.
That one word makes my heart drop at hearing it. It’s mine and Finn’s word. Stop thinking of him, and now Jameson wants to get in on that too. It’s as though he knows how it will affect me.
“I just didn’t know when to take it further,” he adds.
“Can we talk about it another time? Let me have a think?” I ask. Hating that this friendship we have is changing..
He nods and hands me his bow tie. “Would you?”
“I’m sure you’ll do a better job,” I say, taking the silky material from his hand.
I inhale his spicy aftershave as I lean in. His gaze follows me as I tie the bow. My fingers linger as his stare makes me feel I’m under suspicion. His Adam’s apple rises and falls, but I try to ignore the strange moment that’s happening.
Finally, I stand and back away as I admire him. Despite everything, he is a very handsome man. “There you go.”
Jameson leans close to me, placing a kiss on my cheek. “Thank you. Are you ready?” he asks.
I nod, but for some reason, nervous tension skates up my spine at his change of demeanor.
Jameson holds my hand as we depart the elevator and enter the lobby of the Four Seasons Hotel, probably one of the finest in London.
Expensive perfume mingles with exotic aftershave, clinging to fancy dresses and tuxedos, the heady scents hitting my nostrils the moment my heels make their first click on the marble floor.
“Mr. Sterling, I’ll show you to your table,” a man dressed in a three-piece navy suit says. He holds a clipboard and hasn’t asked for Jameson’s name, but ticks it off his list. He holds his hand out, steering us in the correct direction.
The event is outside in the large hotel gardens, taking advantage of the unusually balmy English weather. A late-spring breeze passes over us as we step down the navy colored carpet which covers the concrete steps. From there, we’re ushered to a ten-person table in front of a stage.
“Thank you,” Jameson says.
I scan the immaculate gardens as more people make their way toward the tables. Some sit and some walk around, chatting.
Women wear their evening gowns with jewels dripping from their wrists and necks. Not that I’m much different, though I'm sure their diamonds are real.
“Ava,” a female voice I recognize calls.
The smile that plasters my face is totally natural. “Lily,” I squeal. She takes my arms and leans into me.
“Thank God you’re here. These events are so stuffy,” Lily breathes. I look lower and she’s holding her enormous belly. “And this one is killing me.”
She’s six months pregnant with her second child, but regardless of her face, she’s deliriously happy. Her husband looks at her in a way I can only dream. And most other women, to be fair.
“You remember Ava?” she asks her husband, Seb.
I met Jameson through Lily; and she introduced us one day when we met for a coffee.
He laughs, kisses her cheek, and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “Of course I do. She's your ex-colleague and she’s dating Jameson.”
Dating?
Jameson gets a friendly slap on the back.
I don’t understand why everyone thinks we’re dating.
“Where are you sitting?” I ask, hoping she’d be at the same table or at least not too far away.
“Table two. I expect you’re at the center table.”
I nod. “Swap the name tags around, and we can have a chat. We really should get all the girls together and have an evening out. We haven’t caught up with you for ages,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s been too long. Wait for me to have this one,” she says, rubbing her tummy. “And then I can have a glass of wine.”
“Excellent plan.”
A bell rings and everyone turns to the master of ceremonies, calling for everyone to take their seats.
As the guests seat themselves around the tables, Jameson takes his speech from his pocket, pecks me on the cheek, and makes his way onto the stage ahead of us.
There’s a moment of strangeness, as I meet the same dark gaze from earlier. I brush it away as the noise of the crowd fades, and he speaks.
I look up and there’s something about the way he tilts his head as he looks at me that slows everything down. Not my rapid heartbeat, though, that flutters and pounds and the blood roars in my veins.
Calm down.
My eyes raise from the sensation of being watched. Jameson waits for something, maybe just a smile.
Smile. This is his night.
His stare becomes dark and demanding. He stands tall, his hair and eyes the same midnight-black as his tuxedo.
He says something else on the stage, but my mind travels to another time and dimension. Until I crash land back to earth and Jameson’s furrowed brow and frown exaggerate his angular jawline and then suddenly time speeds back up quickly.
I blink back.
“My fiancée is a little shocked,” he says.
That’s when I hear the entire room clapping.
Anger furls inside my gut for railroading me, deciding on my future with no conversation with me.
“Why did you say it in front of everybody?” I hiss as we step into the elevator. I’ve held my tongue for too long and now he needs to know how I feel.
“Because you’re mine, Ava, because you’re all I think about, morning until night.”
I should be flattered that Jameson Sterling is saying these things to me, but he’s a man who bullies and pushes to get what he wants. Is this manipulation or truth? I don’t know, and I hate everything changed the moment he saw me with Finn.
I don’t truly believe his reason for one day us being friends to the next for me to live with him in New York. Something is niggling inside my gut.
But maybe this is what I need.
Maybe friends aren’t as good as feeling wanted.
And I want to be wanted right now.
Finn pushed him . The niggling voice in my head reminds me again.
He flashes his card on the hotel door reader, the click of the lock sounds, and he turns and pushes his back against the door.
He watches intently, studying me, studying him. “Was he romantic?”
“Jameson, don’t.”
“Was he? What’s his name?”
“Finn.” I give his name, but don’t want to give anything else.
“Surname?”
“I’m not telling you. It doesn’t matter. Stop talking about him.”
“What are the schools like in New York?” I ask, changing the subject.
“I expect they’re excellent,” he says. “You decide which school suits and I’ll make the arrangements.”
“You never looked into schools when you were married,” I say.
“No, we weren’t planning on having children, so it wasn’t necessary.”
“You never wanted children? Either of you?”
“No, did you?”
I think about the many times Finn and I had spoken about our future. We both wanted two children. Sometimes he wanted four. I have a sister and he has two brothers.
Jameson and I are so different.
I sigh. “Yes. It was always part of my long-term plan. Obviously, it happened a little earlier than I expected.”
“I do now,” he says, kissing my cheek. “I’d like children, or at least a child with you, and sooner rather than later.”
This is moving at lightning-fast speed. From friends to ... what exactly?
“And your apartment in the building has four bedrooms, five bathrooms and is two floors lower than mine. I’m going to gift it to you. There’ll be enough room for you, Emmy, our child, and a nanny.”
“Not together?”
“I don’t enjoy living with anyone. I like my own space.”
“Did you live with your ex-wife?”
“She’s the reason I don’t want to live with anyone.”