‘You can’t hijack every meeting I have with a male client.’ I say tiredly. I have absolutely no faith in my attempt to reason with him.

‘I won’t, just him. And any other man who may be a threat.’ he says candidly.

I want to throw my head back and scream at the heavens. Does that mean I should expect him at The Life Building on Monday? Jesse sees every man as a threat. ‘I have to go.’ I try and regain possession of my body, but he refuses to release me.

‘I’ll take you,’ he informs me, releasing my wrist. ‘Collect your things.’ He walks over to the table and starts scooping up my mood boards. ‘These are really very good.’ he says zealously.

I can’t join him in his enthusiasm. I feel despondent and flat. I can see my dream career flushing down the pan before my very eyes and worst of all, there is the little niggling fear that I will push him to get steaming drunk if I don’t comply with his unreasonableness. I feel helpless and hopeless. How can I go from being so immensely elated to so incredibly defeated, all in such a short space of time?

Jesse drops me at the corner of Berkeley Square under my request so I’m not spotted by Patrick getting out of Mr Ward’s car nearly four hours after I went for a breakfast meeting with him. I have no doubt that my days are numbered with regards to Patrick’s enlightenment on mine and Jesse’s involvement. I would like to delay it for as long as possible, though. I need to think about how I’m going to break this to Patrick, and I pray on all things holy that Mikael doesn’t bombard him first. This needs to be handled with care.

I give Jesse a chaste kiss on the cheek and leave him watching me, his bottom lip getting a grueling chew as I drag myself from his car. I say nothing, and neither does he.

‘You’ve been a while, flower.’ Patrick says, as I settle at my desk.

‘Mikael and I had a lot to go through. It’s looking good. ’ I offer by way of an explanation.

It seems to do the trick. He smiles instantly. ‘Ah! He is still happy?’

‘Very.’ I confirm, and that broadens Patrick’s smile by a few more inches.

‘Wonderful!’ he exclaims, retreating to his office looking delighted.

I open my email and hear the office door open. Looking up, I see a massive bunch of calla lilies floating towards me. Really? I left him five minutes ago.

They land on my desk, and the young girl sighs. ‘I don’t know why he doesn’t just buy you the shop. Sign here, please.’ She thrusts the clipboard under my nose, and I scribble my name.

‘Thanks.’ I hand her back the clipboard and find the card.

I’m sorry-ish

Jx

I fall back in my chair. What he means is…he’s sorry because he knows that he has upset me, but he is not at all sorry for trampling Mikael or my day. Maybe I should stay at Kate’s tonight. I could do with some time, a big bottle of wine, my own thoughts and no distractions.

The office door swings open and I look up to see Ruth Quinn beaming at me. Why is she here? I only spoke to her this morning. Her blonde hair is shining and bouncing as she struts to my desk, waving excitedly.

‘Ava!’ she sings.

‘Ruth,’ I frown, but she doesn’t seem to notice my confusion.

‘I was just in the area and I thought I’d drop by.’ She places her neat, slender body on a chair in front of my desk.

‘Oh?’ I say, looking at her to continue.

‘Yes,’ she smiles, but doesn’t elaborate.

I glance at the clock. It’s not even three o’clock. I’ve got another three hours to get her designs over by email. ‘Was there something that you wanted to add to the specification?’ I ask.

‘No. Not at all. I’m sure I’ll love the designs.’

I’m not sure what to say. She’s dropped by for nothing? No reason?

‘Are you okay, Ava?’ Her smile fades a little.

I shake myself up. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ I force a happy face. I’m not fine, but I want to mood over it in peace, not make pointless conversation with a client. ‘I’ve prepped everything, Ruth. I’ll get it across to you before that day’s out.’ I know I’ve already told her this on the telephone, but what else can I say. Should I offer her a coffee?

‘Lovely.’ She strokes her hair, and then flicks it over her shoulder. ‘Are you doing anything nice this weekend?’

Now I really am frowning. She’s not a clinger on, is she? ‘I’m not sure.’ I’m really not. I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going, not in any element of my life at the moment.

‘We should have drinks!’

I inwardly groan. She wants to be friends. Never mix business with pleasure – my new rule applies to female clients too. What should I say? ‘Sure.’ The word slips past my lips and stuns me. I don’t want to have drinks with Ruth. I want to crawl into my bed and sulk.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ she presses.

‘Yes, fine.’ I try to smile. I’m struggling.

‘Man trouble?’ Her fair, precisely plucked eyebrow rises.

‘No.’ I shake my head. Oh God, she’s getting personal.

‘Ava, I know a woman in turmoil when I see one.’ She laughs. ‘Been there, done that.’

‘Honestly, Ruth. There is no man.’ I can’t believe I just said that. No man? There most certainly is a man, and he most certainly is causing me turmoil. But I need Kate for this line of conversation, not a client. Wine and Kate.

She gives me a knowing smile and stands. ‘They’re not worth the trouble.’

I return her smile, but only because I’m pleased that she appears to be leaving. ‘I’ll get your designs over soon, Ruth.’ I’m repeating again.

‘Can’t wait! We’ll talk soon…about drinks.’ She breezes out of the office, leaving me sat in the turmoil she knows I’m in.

I immediately email her. I don’t want her returning and offering more drinks. My head’s going to explode. I need Kate, and I need wine.

I don’t go to Kate’s, though. I leave the office and I’m pulled towards St Katherine Docks by the magnet that is The Lord of the Sex Manor. I said I wouldn’t leave him, and I need these mounting questions answered, like this mystery woman.

‘Evening, Ava.’

‘Hello, Clive. Can I speak to security, please?’

‘They are all off site at the moment.’ He diverts his attention to his computer, his way of halting this conversation from going any further – his way of dodging me.

‘Right.’ I sigh, leaving Clive and carrying on my way to the elevator. I board and lean back against the mirrored wall after I’ve punched in the code that Jesse still hasn’t got changed.

I let myself in with my pink key and head straight for the kitchen, kicking my shoes off and looking for wine that I know won’t be there before finding a vase to put my flowers in. I remember the bunch upstairs that I hastily dumped on the chest in favour of prepping myself to deliver one truth fuck, so I take the stairs tiredly and enter the master-suite to retrieve them.

Oh…dear.

My new diamante embellished vibrator is in a million pieces all over the far end of the bedroom floor and there’s a hole in the wall opposite the bed. The bedroom is vast, so he must have lobbed it with some force. I’m suddenly thinking that leaving before he got free was a decision well made.

I look across the room to the bed and see the handcuffs still dangling from the headboard, mental images of Jesse flying into a rage instantly starting to assault my brain. This man has issues – big, unreasonable, bloody issues…with control…with me.

I kneel and collect up all of the pieces, taking them to the bathroom and depositing them in the bin before I start running a bath. Picking up the calla lilies that are in desperate need of some water, I make my way back downstairs.

I get halfway down and hear the front door shut quietly, and I’m halted in my tracks as I watch Jesse come into view. He stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks up at me, his handsome face expressionless and his usually bright eyes a little glazed. He removes his suit jacket and reaches up, undoing his shirt buttons slowly as he watches me. His shirt gets removed and dropped to the floor to join his jacket, as does his shoes, socks, trousers and boxers. My eyes are pulled to the red marks around his wrists when he removes his Rolex. He throws it on top of his pile of clothes. I’m never handcuffing him again.