“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.” I jump up and grab my crumpled shirt.

“Will Sarah be at The Manor?” she asks, settling on her back.

Oh? I frown, reaching for my boxers. “I hope so. She works for me.”

Her face is nothing short of shock. “You said she was a friend.”

“Yes, she’s a friend, and she works for me.” A friend. What the fuck else should I call Sarah? Except, perhaps, a bitch.

I watch as Ava pulls on her shorts and vest angrily. Her clear surprise that Sarah works for me isn’t what’s taking up all my thinking space, though.

“Are you going to put some clothes on?” It’s out before I can think how better to word it, and she frowns at her scantily clad form.

“I’m at home.”

“Yes, and Sam’s out there.” I point to the door. She’s practically naked. No bra. Boobs clearly visible through the thin, stretchy material of her top. Shorts skimming her arse cheeks. Legs for days on full display. Forgive me, but I’m not all too keen for my mate to cop the perfection of it all. Call me unreasonable. On this occasion, I don’t care.

“Sam doesn’t seem to think anything of walking around in his boxers,” Ava quite rightly points out. “At least I’m covered.”

I inwardly snort. Barely. “Sam’s an exhibitionist.” Like most members of The Manor. I go to her wardrobe and find something suitable. Ava is not an exhibitionist. It’s one of the reasons I love her so much. She is nothing like the women of The Manor. “Here, put this on,” I say, pulling out a massive cream jumper and passing it to her.

“No.” She’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. I haven’t. But if she doesn’t wear this jumper, I might. There’s no way I can leave here while she’s looking like that. No way. I push it forward with a warning look that I know she’ll ignore. “Put the jumper on.”

“No.” She swipes it from my hand and chucks it on the bed, and I watch as it lands, munching on my lip, wondering how the fuck I’ll get her in that jumper. It doesn’t even need to be the jumper. A robe will do, but since she’s being so fucking unreasonable about it, it has to be the jumper.

I turn my narrowed eyes onto her, and the face on her, the challenging, defiant, annoyed face, only makes me more determined. She’ll learn, just as I’m learning. It’s time for us to find out what happens on zero.

“Three,” I say, loud and proud, watching in nothing but delight as her mouth falls open.

“Are you winding me up?”

No, baby. Not at all. “Two.”