I feel her pull against the file, but I refuse to let go, my teeth going overtime on my lip, thinking, thinking, thinking. Just take her into your office. Talk it through. But before I can suggest that, she’s gone.

“Goodbye,” she says, leaving me standing like a twat, open-mouthed, Mario looking interested as he pours a drink, Sarah still studying me. If she breathes a word . . .

“Want to explain?” she asks, accepting the gin being handed over the bar. In my head, I tell her to fuck off a million times. “No.” I look at Mario. “When she was in the bar earlier, what did she have?”

“A wine.”

I’m off after Ava, and not only because she’s had a drink and she shouldn’t be driving, but because I deserve an explanation. She can give me that explanation while I drive her home.

I jog to the front doors and down the steps, hearing the engine of her car. Is she fucking stupid? “Ava!” I roar, incensed.

She screeches off, demonstrating she’s not in control, and the alcohol is only half the reason. “Fuck,” I bellow, flinging my arms into the air. Is it possible to desire a woman and want to fucking strangle her too? Because I do. I really fucking do.

I race back into The Manor, flying through like a bullet to my office. I grab my keys and sprint back to my car, people jumping from my path. I land in the seat heavily, start the engine, and pull off, sending the back end drifting across the gravel. “Fucking woman.” While it’s my mission to prove she’s as desperate for me as I am for her, it seems her mission is to send me to crazy town in every fucking way.

Her Mini comes into view, the gates stopping her escape. “Good try,” I say, coming to a stop behind her, getting out and walking over. I know my face is displaying every ounce of anger I feel as I swing the door open. She has her head resting on the steering wheel. Don’t tell me she’s exasperated? She has no fucking idea. I take her arm firmly and pull her out of the car, taking the keys out of the ignition too. “Ava.” My jaw buzzes, my aggravation blazing when her nostrils flare in annoyance. “You’re half pissed. I swear to God, if you’d have hurt yourself . . .”

She flinches, looking away, ashamed. God damn me. I soften, taking her jaw and turning her to face me. Look at her. Still flushed with desire. Her eyes still begging for me, even if her lips refuse to say it. Say it, woman. Find that resolve you had back there when I had you in my arms. Accept me.