“Yes, everything is fine.” I smile as I reach for the glass and start turning it slowly on the spot. “Don’t worry, I’m not pulling out. I want to show my housekeeper around.”

“Name your time.”

“I was thinking Sunday.”

“Not a problem.”

I nod, happy. “I’ll confirm a time once I’ve spoken to her.”

“Just let me know.”

“Thanks, Chris.” I hang up and rake a hand through my hair. It’s the weekend. What will she be doing? Where will she be going? Who with? I fall into a daydream and walk my way through my meeting with Miss O’Shea, analyzing every look, every word, every move. Could I have played it differently? Absolutely, yes. Was I capable of playing it differently? Categorically, no.

I could change my approach now. But the question is, will I get the chance?

The deep ache inside gives me my answer. So does another quick look at the picture of her running away.

I swipe up my keys and head out, passing John as I stalk through the summer room. “Everything okay?” he asks my back.

No. “Fine,” I call, passing the bar. “I won’t be around tonight.”

“What?” John blurts after me, uncharacteristically shocked.

“What?” Sarah asks, appearing before me, looking as if she’s stumbled across alien activity.

“What?” Sam and Drew say in unison, pausing on their way up the stairs.

I reach the door and turn, finding a peanut gallery of surprise. I smile my signature smile, if only to reassure them I’ve not been possessed. Although, there’s definitely something weird hijacking me. “I’m sure you’ll survive without me.” I wink at the boys, slip on my Ray-Bans, and break free of The Manor, taking the steps fast and jumping into my Aston. I rev the engine hard and pull off, kicking up the gravel behind me. My phone is ringing before I make it to the gates.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’m staying at my own place for a few nights.”

“Why?”

Good fucking question. “Sarah, let me breathe, will you?” I say as diplomatically as I can. If she’s not trying to make me surrender to her fucking whip, she’s suffocating me with her egocentric smothering. I’m not sure which is worse, to be honest. But, as I remind myself repeatedly, along with John, she needs to fuss over me. She needs that and her whip like I need alcohol and sex, and God help anyone who tries to take my escape away. “I’ll be back,” I assure her. “I have a few things to do.” I pull onto the main road and put my foot down, heading toward the city.