“Wednesday?” I say to Ashton over the phone a couple of hours after Jack delivers the best coffee I’ve had in days.
“Yes. Delacort has requested a meeting then to go over the figures in the latest report, and I can’t get him to agree to push it until I return from London. I need you to talk him off the ledge.”
Colin Delacort is a shareholder in one of Ashton’s companies that manages commercial properties across Australia. He’s grown increasingly negative over the past year and isn’t happy with the direction Ashton’s taking the company. Since he doesn’t have a controlling interest, Ashton hasn’t bowed to him. However, another shareholder has made it clear he supports Delacort, so Ashton is concerned enough now to bring Delacort around to his way of thinking.
“What time is the meeting?”
“Three o’clock.”
My brain kicks into gear, figuring out my next move. “I’ll take care of it. How are things going over there?”
He blows out a long breath. “It’s a fucking mess. We’ve fired the entire management team. The new team is slowly coming on board. It’s cost us a fucking fortune to make this happen, but Johnathon has found the best in the UK, so I’m hopeful we’ll never experience this kind of thing again.”
“Are you on track to fly to New York on Saturday?”
“I fucking hope so.”
“That’s not an actual answer, Ashton.”
Another long breath. “The answer is I don’t know, but I’m doing everything in my power to get there on Saturday.”
We end the call and I get to work organising the company jet for tomorrow and going over all the company reports that Delacort will want to discuss at our meeting on Wednesday. Two hours later, I stretch and go in search of Jack.
I find him in the bathroom, sitting on the floor, reading something on his phone that seems to have all his attention. So much so, that he takes his time acknowledging my presence.
“I would sit with you,” I say, “but that floor is too dirty for this skirt.”
He runs his gaze over my skirt before finding my eyes. “I agree. The only thing that should dirty that skirt up is me.”
I leave that alone because, honestly, this man needs no encouragement. Instead, I say, “I have to go home tomorrow. A meeting has come up on Wednesday.”
He stands. “I’ll come with you.”
“I only have to be there for the meeting. I can fly back here Wednesday night. I think you’ll be okay here on your own for two nights.”
“Sweetheart, I think I’ve reached the point where I’d be okay here on my own full stop. I don’t want to come with you because I need a sober companion.”
I think he’s right. I think Jack has come to a pivotal moment in his recovery.
Also, I like the idea of him coming home with me.
“Okay. We’re leaving at ten tomorrow morning.”
“Would it be easier for you to stay in Sydney rather than coming back here afterwards?”
“As in, not come back here at all?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“It’s not that hard to work from here, Jack.”
“I know, but I’m thinking about the fact you’d be home, in your own surroundings. Routine is important to you.”
“What are you thinking here?”
“Maybe we should move this to your place.”
When I told Jack I need space, I wasn’t lying. I’ve always been a woman who needs space within a relationship. Jack never needed space, but one of the things I loved the very most about being with him was that he was always good at giving it. Even with his need to have his hands all over me as often as possible.
Anyone else wanting to move ‘this’ to my place would send me running faster than they could get their next word out. But not Jack. I might feel bewildered at times—many times—with him, but I know he’ll always respect my boundaries. He’ll always let me direct the speed of us.
“Can we play it by ear? Or do you think it’s better for you to have a more structured routine right now?”
He reaches for me and pulls me close before brushing a kiss over my lips. “Let’s play it by ear. I can continue my routine from your place, but if that doesn’t work, we’ll reassess.”
I like this idea.
A lot.
I like the thought of being at home, back in my routine, with Jack by my side.
I also really like him being open and honest with me like this.
Jack’s not wearing a mask with me at all this time around.
“I really like Mavis,” I say to Jack just after 8:00 p.m. when we pull into the car park of the pub in Grafton that Mavis asked us to come to. Bob’s been here for a few hours with his mates and has had too much to drink to drive home. Mavis came over to Jack’s place a little while ago and asked if he could collect Bob because she doesn’t have a licence anymore. Not since her eyesight deteriorated.
Jack cuts the engine. “I can see why.”
I unclick my seatbelt. “Why, because she cares a lot about Bob?”
“No, baby, because she’s a ballbuster like you.”
He exits the car and comes around to my side. When he opens my door and holds out his hand to help me down, I say, “I’ve clearly had too many orgasms lately. I didn’t pick up on that about her.” I’ve also worked hard today, preparing for my meeting on Wednesday and researching manager candidates for Jack. My brain wasn’t running at full capacity when I met Mavis.
He chuckles and closes the door behind me. “There’s no such thing as too many orgasms.”
“There really is. When they’re delivered by Jack Kingsley, that is. You’ve messed with my brain the last couple of days.”
He slips his arm around my waist and pulls me to his side as we walk into the pub. “Just so you’re aware, the only orgasms you’re having from here on out will be delivered by me.”
“I don’t think you had this possessive streak six years ago.”
“I did. I just managed to keep it to myself. You should not expect me to keep it to myself anymore.”
There’s something to be said for a man’s possessiveness. It surprises the hell out of me that I’m into it, but I am with Jack.
As we draw closer to the front door of the pub, I slow him down. “Are you sure you’re okay going in here? You could wait outside while I go in and get him.”
He stops and looks at me with sincerity. “I honestly don’t know how this is going to go down, but I need to know.”
“Have you been to a pub since you stopped drinking?” I know he’s been to events with alcohol, but I don’t know about pubs.
“No, but I’ve survived enough parties filled with booze to believe I can do this.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s get this done so I can take you home and make good on my promise to give you my tongue.”
“I like it when you talk filth to me, Mr Kingsley.”
“Fuck,” he curses softly. “Let’s hold off on the Mr Kingsleys until I’m about to deliver another one of those orgasms you like so much.”
I grip his hand tighter, loving how I affect him. There will most definitely be more Mr Kingsleys later tonight. I don’t know what it is he likes so much about them, but I am here for it.