This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

‘Where’s your phone?’ he presses, taking his own from my trembling hand.

‘In my bag. John, tell me.’

He helps himself, tipping the contents of my bag out and quickly locating my mobile. He sits it neatly on the island and picks me up, placing me gently on the stool. ‘Ava, now isn’t the time to argue with me. There’s someone the concierge is suspicious of and I’m just going to check it out. It’s probably nothing.’

I don’t believe him. Nothing suggests I should; not the tone of his voice or his body language. Everything is suggesting that I should be terrified, and I’m beginning to feel it. ‘Okay,’ I agree reluctantly.

After nodding and squeezing my shoulder affectionately, he carries his big body from the kitchen, and I soon hear the front door close, leaving me still shaking and with a racing mind. I’m failing on every level to calm myself down. I just want Jesse. I don’t care what he’s got to tell me, I don’t give a damn. I clench my phone and run up the stairs to the bedroom, quickly locating the key to Jesse’s office from my underwear drawer before rushing back down and making quick work of unlocking the door. I know I’ll feel better when I’m sitting in his big office chair, like he’s wrapped around me in a sense.

I burst through the door, frenzied and out of breath, only to be met by a woman, who’s standing in the middle of the room, staring at my wall.

Ruth Quinn.

My legs buckle, making me stagger forward and my heart stops in my chest. But my dramatic entrance and gasp of shock doesn’t seem to faze her. She maintains her rapt stare, not giving me a second glance. She’s spellbound and if it wasn’t for Jesse and John’s recent words and reactions to this woman, then I would be thinking that she not only has a crush on me, but she is insanely obsessed.

Too much time has passed before my brain registers that I should be running, but when I slowly start stepping backwards, she looks at me. She looks hollow, not the usual bright eyed, fresh skinned woman who I’ve become used to. It has only been a few hours since I’ve seen her, but you would think it was years.

‘Don’t bother.’ Her voice is cold and carrying an air of loathing, and it immediately eliminates any thoughts I had that this woman is crushing on me. Now I know, with absolute certainty, that she hates me. ‘The lift will be out of action and Casey will stop you on the stairs.’

I might be in shock, but those words register loud and clear. So does the mental flash back of Casey in his suit… and in the CCTV footage from the night I was drugged. I even manage to ask myself the sensible question of how the hell she got in the penthouse, let alone Jesse’s office.

Then she’s dangling a bunch of keys in front of her. ‘He made it too easy.’ She throws them on Jesse’s desk, and my eyes follow their path until they clatter and eventually still. I don’t recognise the set, but I’m not stupid enough to wonder what they’re for. ‘Your husband’s stupidity and my lover’s desperate need to make me happy has almost made this boring.’ She looks back to the wall. The Ava wall. ‘I think he’s a little obsessed with you.’

I remain exactly where I am, racing through my options. I have none. No escape, no chance of anyone getting to me and with the new concierge keeping guard, I’m helpless.

The tip of her finger meets the wall where Jesse has written something. ‘My heart started beating again?’ She laughs, a cold, sinister laugh, increasing my already potent unease. ‘Jesse Ward, the obnoxious, woman using, arsehole is in love, married and now expecting twins? How perfect.’

She doesn’t mean that, but she definitely meant what came before. I’m facing another scorned ex-lover, but this one is on a whole new level. She hates him, and in turn, hates me. Frightening clarity, plus the way she has now turned and is staring at my stomach, informs me that she also hates our growing babies. My fear has just catapulted to the highest level, and I know for certain that me and my babies are in grave danger.

I acknowledge her getting closer, but I don’t acknowledge that I’m moving too. Not fast enough, though, because she is in front of me in seconds and now stroking my stomach thoughtfully.

Then she draws her hand back and punches me. I scream, my body folding over protectively, my arms wrapping around my tummy, instinctively trying to protect my babies.

She’s screaming, too, grabbing at my hair and yanking me from Jesse’s office into the openness of the penthouse. ‘You should have left him.’ she shouts, pushing me to the floor and kicking me accurately.

Pain slices through me and my eyes tear up, flowing freely. If I could get my mind past the incredible pain and shock, then I think I could find the strength to find my anger. She’s trying to kill our children.

‘What is it about the immoral bastard that has you hanging around, you pathetic bitch!’ She pulls me to my feet and slaps me around the face, but the raging sting and flaming skin won’t pull my arms from my stomach, nothing will, not even the need to fly back at her. I even have my phone in my hand still, but I can’t risk giving her clear access to my stomach.

My overloaded brain is urgently trying to guide me, give me instruction, but all I can think to do is accept her derangement and pray that all three of us come safely out the other end. If I’ve ever thought that I might have been in hell, then this moment is proving me wrong. This is below the lowest level of the underworld.

Her fist connects with my forearm on an angered, frenzied scream and my body concaves on a frightened, painful one. I’m not going to get through this. I’m nowhere near dead, but the look in her eyes through my hazy vision tells me she won’t stop until I am. She’s demented. Completely unhinged. What the hell did he do to this woman?