I hurry out of my office and fly up the stairs to the extension, bursting into the last room, my hands itching to get hold of her. I smile when I find her on her arse on the floor, the pad on her lap. But my smile drops when I register her expression. Then I find Sarah across the room. Oh. “All right?” I ask, cocking my head. She better be playing nice.

Sarah smiles, and I wince as her lips stretch, straining. That must fucking hurt. “Yes, sweetie,” she purrs, joining me and rubbing my shoulder. I frown at her hand there. What’s gotten into her? “Ava and I were just discussing the new rooms,” she says. “She has some fabulous ideas.”

They were talking? Like friends? “She’s good.” I flick a fond smile to Ava.

“Yes, very talented,” Sarah replies. Oh, you have no idea, Sarah. But I appreciate her being nice for once. “I’ll leave you to it.” She drops a kiss on my cheek. “Ava, it was lovely to see you again.”

“And you, Sarah.” She smiles, and I watch, stunned, as Sarah leaves. Did they inject some reason into her when they plumped her lips?

“Let’s have a look then, lady.” I join Ava on the floor, taking the drawings. She did all this in a few hours? “Wow,” I blurt, taking in the intricately detailed bed. “I love that bed.”

“So do I.”

“What’s all this?” I ask, indicating the cover above.

“It’s a lattice design. All the wooden beams overlap to form a grid-like effect.”

“So you can hang things from them?” Interesting. Like handcuffs or people. This will go down a storm, but where the fuck did she come up with this?

“Yes, like material, or lights, maybe.” She shrugs

Of course. “What colors did you have in mind?”

“Black and gold.”

Perfect. Sexy but tasteful. “I love it. When can we start?”

“It’s only a draft,” she says. “I have to do some mood boards, scale drawings, lighting plans, that sort of thing. Will you take me home?”

I crick my neck when I look at her sharply. Home? Something tells me she doesn’t mean my home. “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t want to spend the rest of the day with me? She gets up, smiling. “I’m fine,” she says. “I’ve got some work stuff to sort out for tomorrow.”

Don’t crowd her. Fuck you, John. I sigh, feeling lost. “Okay,” I say reluctantly, begrudgingly accepting. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Why do I sense something is amiss?

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

I eye her suspiciously. Is her hand twitching? Is that smile fake? And why’s my stomach turning? “Come on then.” I collect her bag and her hand and take her downstairs, realizing halfway that I haven’t got my keys.