Page 247 of Falling for the Wife

The men went through ice like it was nothing whilst drinking. They had once argued that it was the difference in their body temperature, which made them tend to appease their uncontrollable hotness by replenishing themselves with ice-cold beverages. These three liked to horse about, always claiming they were part of the beautiful species, a title only granted through the process of ensuring one was well-endowed. I was just about to say something quirky in reference to that farce when something caught their attention, halting their conversations as they stared right behind me.

“What? Has the ghost of Lady Prescott just appeared behind me?” They used to tease me about the befallen Lady who had apparently hung herself in one of the parlor rooms after she’d found her husband shagging one of the housemaids back in the 1800s. Of course, the house had come a long way since then with renovations and an upgraded sewage system as well as whatever else my mother thought would attract more gossip precisely aimed at her delicate taste. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Allie grinned. “Not the Lady. Mister Prescott, perhaps?”

“I apologize for interrupting your party, but I was hoping I could speak to Ava …in private.”

Fuck. I cursed inwardly as I momentarily shut my lids to gain some sanity back. I thought he had left. Questions bombarded my mind as I slowly turned my neck to see Reiss standing in the middle of the room, nervous, although his eyes were dead-set on me.

“Ava?” He was asking for my permission, silently pleading with his eyes.

“And who might you be, young man?” Ashton asked jokingly, but I could detect a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Reiss took a moment, possibly deciding if he should respond to it or not. Panic rose to my throat as I watched this scenario slowly play before me.

“He’s the gardener’s son who’s working with his father for the summer. His name’s Reiss.” I looked away, not wanting to see the reaction on his face after what I had just said.

It wasn’t directly insulting him, but a part of me wanted to put him in his place because he was risking too much by appearing here, amongst my friends with Ashton in the mix. I had to save face somehow. It was horrid, yet I still had done it. I was a terrible person, truly rotten to the core.

“Perfect,” Ashton finally spoke up, breaking the heavy silence that hung in the air before he glanced at me, as if to see what I was going to say. “Get us more ice and a variety of olives and cheeses, will you?”

“I’m here to speak to Ava,” Reiss grated out loud enough for all of us to hear. “If you need ice, it’s located in the kitchen.”

Reiss’s barbed reply made Ashton clear his throat, not liking the fact that he was being disrespected by one of the staff. Bloody Hell, I better do something before this turned into a fight. My mother would truly disown me then.

Huffing out loud, I was about to get up when Ashton threw me a steadfast stare.

“Ava?” Ashton gave me a speculative look. “You never said you were good friends with the gardener’s son.”

Like I had to detail everyone I knew so he could get updated with everything. “I’m friends with everyone that works here.” My poor aim at sarcasm was pitiful.

I ignored Ashton’s and the rest of my friends’ curious gazes as I stood up and walked towards where Reiss was standing. Then I zoomed past him, hoping he’d follow me out.

I was fuming within. He had better have a good explanation, or I wouldn’t live it down. My friends would ceaselessly keep inquiring about how this had come about since it was obvious Reiss was truly smitten with me.

I had been nothing other than appalling to Reiss since Ashton had come to visit, and I felt like I was being choked with not much room to move. Everything was moving too fast and too soon. I couldn’t fully process what was happening around me.

I was truly confused as I navigated around the dimly lit hall, pacing towards the informal living room. It was one of my favorite rooms because it had an old, grand fireplace with cozy chaise lounges and other plush furniture that molded to your form the moment you sat on one. Hundreds of books had been read in this area. From the tales of Charles Dickens to the heart-warming romance of Jane Austen’s novels, I had seized it all here, basking in the warmth of the hearth and the fresh scent of flowers in antique vases about the room.

This room had an immense effect on me. It never failed to bring that inner feeling of comfort and peace you got when you were surrounded by things that brought nostalgia and good memories of your childhood. And I was about to make another memory in this room. Nothing heart-warming or thoughts of comfort came to mind with this one, however.

Even though it was summer, the fireplace was ablaze, dancing before me as if it hoped to calm me inside like it always did when it greeted me in all different seasons. But tonight, no comfort came.

I patiently waited for him, hoping and dreading he’d show up. I was wagering to myself that, if he had simply left and walked out of the door from my snooty behavior, then it was for the best. But, if he hadn’t, if he was gradually making his way towards me, then…

Well, I was doomed, to put it mildly.

After five minutes, my stomach started to feel like I was going sky diving, making me feel nervous and hollow. Glancing at the mahogany mantelpiece clock, I meticulously watched the hand, counting down the time.

I silently counted another two minutes before I heard the familiar sound of him clearing his throat. I hadn’t heard him come in, which was odd because I was quite good with these things. You see, I needed to be alert when reading vulgar scenes that I shouldn’t. As a result, for years I had trained my senses to detect these things, which only made me wonder how I hadn’t heard or sensed him at all until he had made the sound. I supposed I was out of practice.

Snapping myself back to my present dilemma, I trained myself to keep gazing at the clock, concentrating on projecting my frustrations and anger towards him.

“What the hell do you think you’re trying to accomplish here, Reiss? You can’t simply walk in here when I’m entertaining. Ashton will start getting suspicious, and that’s the last thing I need—more bloody drama!”

“Fuck. I don’t give an arse about that stupid wanker. I surely don’t bloody care about what he thinks, for that matter.Who. Bloody. Cares?” Reiss came closer to me, seething with anger, simmering with undeniable frustration. “Let him think whatever he fancies—you’re mine, and he should know that you’re with me. When are you going to tell him? You have to break it to him soon, Ava.”

He finally reached my side before he stepped a hairsbreadth away, his lips touching the back of my ear, imprinting it with his love. “I was so bloody miserable when I left earlier. For hours, I racked my brain to find answers, and I couldn’t. But at the end of the day, the truth surfaced, telling me I was the only one who’d made love to you. It’smeyou chose, not him, Ava.”