“Fuck off,” she yells over her shoulder, the sharp curse hitting me like electricity, making me twitch as I stalk after her. She’s absolutely begging for it. Begging! “You’re being unreasonable and unfair,” she calls.

I’m being unfair? I’m not the one depriving her of everything wonderful because her boss has got the hump. “Mouth!” I shout. “What’s so unreasonable about wanting to kiss you?”

“You know damn well what’s unreasonable about it. And it’s unfair because you’re trying to make me feel shitty about it.” She suddenly disappears through the door of a shop, leaving me on the pavement outside, astounded. How did we go from smiles and kisses to fucks and fury?

I need to calm the hell down. Easier said than done when she’s being so difficult. I get my face up close to the window, spotting her by a rail with a shop assistant. My eyes narrow naturally. She thinks she’s safe from dealing with me in there, does she? Wrong.

I push the door open, just as Ava pulls out a ridiculously skimpy cream dress. “You’re not wearing that,” I snap, staring at the scrap of material dangling from her hand. Over my dead fucking body. Never. Jesus, she’ll floor every man in a ten-mile radius, and if she doesn’t happen to drop them, I absolutely will.

I lift my eyes to Ava. Disgust is emblazoned all over her face. Good. Then she knows how I’m feeling. But it’s soon my jaw sweeping the floor when she mouths, “Fuck off,” before dismissing me and turning to the assistant. She did not just do that.

“Have you anything shorter?” she asks.

Is she for fucking real? “Ava,” I growl, twitching like I’m being tasered. “Don’t push me.”

“No, I don’t think so,” the assistant says, sounding hesitant.

“Okay, I’ll take this one.” Ava hands the dress to the lady.

“Urh . . . is this the correct size for you?” she asks.

No, it’s fifty sizes too fucking small.

“It’s a ten?”

“It is, but I would recommend you try it on as we don’t offer refunds.”

That’s not a problem because she’s not buying the dress, but before I can advise the young woman, she’s shown Ava into the dressing room. My feet are itching to steam in there and rip that dress to shreds, and my hands are flexing, preparing to wring her fucking neck. I pace the store for a few minutes, searching for my lost control. It’s gone, mislaid, and I fear it may never be found.