Wrong. I kissed her. Big difference. “Don’t make me ask again, Ava,” I warn, deadly serious. She should do everything I suggest. You’re not suggesting, you idiot. You’re demanding. I cock my head in expectation, and she smiles, giving in to me. She’s learning. And there’s something about receiving a kiss rather than giving one.

When she opens the door, my trusty John is waiting.

“I know where I’m going, John,” Ava says, sounding tired. She might do. But I’m covering all bases.

“’S’all good, girl,” he grunts.

I close the door and look across to the cabinet. All of the bottles I broke in my rage have been replaced. And I feel nothing. No hate for the bottles. No desire to grab one and sink it. But I would love to wring Sarah’s fucking neck. She’s quite happy for me to fuck my way through The Manor because I’ll be close. Unattached. The same man I’ve been for sixteen years—not in love with her, but not in love with anyone else. Ava is a woman who could take me away from this life, therefore take me away from Sarah. She wants me to fail? Surely not. And yet, I know Sarah. She’s as broken as I am, but she handles her guilt differently.

I sigh and sit down at my desk, checking through my emails quickly. Nothing important. Good. I pull out a pad and pen and write at the top, The Path to Redemption. Number one: Ava O’Shea. I smile and sit back, tapping the end of the pen on my bottom lip as I stare at her name for a long, long time, my mind speeding. I tilt my head. Pout. Then lean forward and cross out her surname, replacing it with mine. “Ava Ward,” I say to myself, chewing my bottom lip.

The door swings open, John marches in, and I quickly pull the cover of the pad over the first page. He looks stressed. John doesn’t do stressed.

“You need to tell her, motherfucker,” he says, slamming the door on a deafening thwack.

I recoil. “Yes, I know that. I wish people would stop stating the fucking obvious.”

“A member just stumbled out of a room, his dick practically hanging out.”

I sit up straight in my chair. “Did Ava see?”

“Yes, she fucking saw.” He drops into the chair opposite me. “Poor thing didn’t know where to look.” He leans forward threateningly. “And she seemed rather curious about the doors to the communal room.”

Bollocks. I rub at my forehead, getting a heavy dose of John’s stress. “I’ll sort it,” I assure him. “Where’s Sarah?”