Page 34 of Repluse

“You need to hear him out. I’m not defending him, but you need to listen to what he has to say. I’m gonna make you another girly tea and something to eat. Getting the up-close inspection that I did of the contents of your stomach, I’m gathering there wasn’t a lot in there before you vomited. Now there’ll be even less.”

He leans in and kisses the top of my head, and I watch him move back to the kitchen before I narrow my eyes on Frankie, who’s standing in the middle of the room with his hands buried in the pockets of his suit trousers.

My heart sinks into the depths of my empty belly as the reality of my situation washes over me again. I don’t know if the absolute disappointment and abject fear I’m feeling are written on my face, but I watch on as Frankie takes me in, closes his eyes, lets out a breath, and rakes his fingers through his dark hair. When he opens them again, I notice how dark the green is today. Maybe it’s the lighting, maybe it’s his mood, personality, or the weight of his betrayal? I don’t know. My thoughts are random and scattered, and I’ve no idea what kind of turn my life might be about to take next because I certainly wasn’t expecting this one when I woke up this morning.

“You up for listening to the rest of what I’ve got to tell you?”

“Sure. Come drive another nail into the coffin of my dead existence. Come crush my soul some more. It’s my favourite thing.”

Frankie doesn’t reply. Instead, he pulls a chair from the dining table—they match the stools, I note, meaning these boys either have great taste or fantastic interior designers—and positions it in front of where I’m sitting propped in the corner of the sofa.

“You remember everything I told you earlier?” he asks as he sits.

“You set me up and sold me out so you could expand your empire.”

“No. I didn’t. I told you that’s what he was offering.”

“Semantics but continue.”

Sam approaches with a tea for me and a bourbon for Frankie. Smiling up at him, I mouth a thank you and wrap my hands around the mug, allowing the warmth to seep into me.

“My first thought was to punch him when he made the offer. I…weown a sex club. Confidentiality is possibly the most important aspect, rule, condition, whatever you want to call it, of our business, but Logan was asking me to compromise that, my business, my livelihood, to set you up. I’m now wondering if that was on purpose. You know our history: what his dad attempted with my mum, what his thoughts are of her and me, our ethnicity. I think he wanted me to supply him with evidence of your infidelity, then he’d let our clientele know where he’d obtained that information, ruining mine and the club’s reputation in the process.”

“Knowing Logan and Scott, that’s highly likely, and I wouldn’t be surprised if then—as he would already be an investor—he’d swoop in andsave”—I use air quotes around the word—“your club’s arse at a massively deflated price.”

“She’s good,” Sam says from the kitchen, where he’s making something in an air fryer.

He cooks, I note. He cooks and has great taste in furniture and throws. That relatively unimportant piece of information brings a disproportionate amount of joy right at this moment.

“I did some digging.” Frankie’s eyes roam over my face. He pauses before nodding, as if a decision has been made. “I have ways and means, people and contacts. I did some digging on Logan and found out he’d already approached a couple of our other investors. Where I fucked up is that I didn’t do any digging on you.”

“Me?” I question.

“Yeah. When we spoke at Scott’s party, you told me you were bored, that Logan wanted to start a family, but you wanted one final bit of fun before you settled into that way of life. If you remember, you told me you wanted one final chance to live out your fantasy of being fucked by two men at the same time.”

My cheeks burn as I stare down into my tea, but I nod anyway. “I remember,” I admit.

“Well, I took your wording the wrong way. When you said ‘final chance’ I took it as meaning you’d done it before, but this would be the last time before having a baby?—”

“No,” I interrupt. “I meant that I was about to start a family, so this was my final chance at doing something like that because once I have kids, I would never do something like that.” I feel so out of my depth, my words are a little jumbled as I attempt to defend myself. “I know I did what I did last weekend, but that was the first time. Believe what you will, but I’d never been unfaithful until then.”

“I know. I know that now. Like I said, I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

I have no response as we silently stare at each other for a few seconds.

“I told Logan I’d think about it, but instead, and like I said, I did some digging. I just had a feeling in my gut, and when you reached out and told me you’d be in the city for the weekend, and could we set something up, it kind of validated what Logan had told me about you. I don’t know why I believed him on that, but I focused my investigations solely on him and what he was attempting to achieve. Just the day afterwemadeourarrangements, Logan contacted me and confirmed you’d be in town. He asked if I could find a way of meeting up with you to gather some evidence. I told him I’d see what I could do.”

“So, hang on. Even though you didn’t plan on doing what Logan asked, you still agreed to meet me? Why? What would be the point if you weren’t going to play his game? Am I missing something?”

Frankie turns to look at Sam before looking back at me. He laces his fingers together and presses them palm down onto the top of his head. He lets out such a hard breath, his lips rattle together.

“If you didn’t hate me before, you’re really gonna hate me now.”

“What?” I close my eyes because the room, once again, tilts.

“I was going to take videos, photos, whatever, of me fucking you, Sam fucking you, both of us fucking you.”

“And do what with them?” My voice sounds flat, defeated, as I wait for him to deliver his next blow.

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