Page 97 of Heart of The Night

I wouldn’t give her the chance to object. The dress would arrive before she could purchase one herself, leaving her no room to refuse.

The image of her opening the package, perhaps irritated at first, but then maybe, just maybe, softened by the gesture, brought a fleeting warmth to my chest. It was a small thing, but in our current strained state, small things mattered.

‘Thanks for the heads-up,’ I said, my mind already racing ahead, planning the details. A red dress, without question – the colour that mirrored her fiery spirit. Silk or satin, the only fabrics worthy of her grace.

Jason’s smile widened slightly, his eyes reflecting a tacit understanding. ‘Be kinder to yourself, yeah? Stop expecting the worst all the time.’

I acknowledged his advice with a nod, then gestured to his chips. ‘Are you going to fold?’

A sudden gleam of challenge lit up his eyes. ‘I’m calling,’ he said, tossing a few chips into the pot.

Andy shifted in his seat, his eyes darting between me and the pot. ‘Speaking of expecting,’ he said, his voice measured and careful, ‘didn’t you say Francesca would be back in London today?’

The fleeting warmth of my earlier optimism vanished at the mere mention of her name. I felt my jaw tighten, my teeth gnashing together as a slow simmer of loathing crept through my veins. Monday’s conversation with Francesca replayed in my mind, a sour memory. I had rung her to confirm the details of her return, needing to set up the clinic appointment. Her casual question about who had answered my phone the day before – when Cara had picked up – had left me momentarily stunned. That she could so carelessly divulge intimate details about me, oblivious to who was listening, was nothing short of detestable.

Spite had driven my response. I told her it was my girlfriend she had spoken to, and her reaction had been immediate. She started crying, softly, discreetly. Yet, not a shred of mercy stirred within me. My anger erupted, uncontrollable. I was furious at her for so many things: for the entanglement we found ourselves in, for my own folly in ever sharing a bed with her, and most of all, for revealing the truth to Cara before I could do it myself.

‘Yes, she lands in London tonight,’ I replied, my tone clipped.

Andy held my gaze, his own eyes shadowed with unease, his posture tense as the unspoken question hung in the air.

‘We’re scheduled at the clinic on Wednesday,’ I continued. ‘It was the first appointment I could get. The result should be in by Monday.’

Jason drained his glass. ‘Fingers crossed,’ he said, exhaling loudly. Then he dealt the flop, revealing the first three community cards: a ten of spades, a queen of clubs, and a three of diamonds. The game progressed, each of us carefully gauging our chances and placing our bets accordingly.

Andy and Alex folded early, leaving just Jason and me in the hand. Jason’s eyes flicked up to meet mine, a steely determination in his gaze. I tossed in a few more chips, and he called without hesitation.

The turn card was a jack of hearts, giving me three of a kind. I forced myself to remain composed, keeping my features neutral. I glanced at Jason, his expression inscrutable.

‘I’ll raise,’ I said, pushing a stack of chips into the pot.

Jason smirked, matching my bet. ‘Call.’ With a dramatic flourish, he flipped over his cards, revealing a pair of tens. He had three of a kind, but my jacks held the upper hand. The river card was a two of spades, changing nothing.

I laid down my cards with quiet satisfaction. ‘Three of a kind, jacks.’

Jason let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a wry grin. ‘Well played, Will.’

‘Good game,’ I said, raking in the chips.

‘If only you could play your life’s hand as well as you played this one,’ Andy quipped.

‘Rest assured, Andy,’ I met his gaze with resolve, ‘I will.’

23 | you deserve to shine

CARA

The lift hummed quietly as it ascended, the office feeling more daunting than usual on this Monday morning. Sleep had been a restless torment, plagued by bizarre nightmares of William with a procession of women, each carrying his child, while his chicken biryani was supposed to sustain us all. In the waking world, the dream’s absurdity drew a faint, humoured smile, but in the murky realm of sleep, it had been deeply unsettling. I blamed the biryani he sent with Jason. The gesture, though touching, had reinforced my sense of guilt and inner conflict, feelings that had manifested in my dreams like spectres.

As the lift doors slid open with a soft chime, I inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the lingering dread from the nightmares, and made my way to my desk. Ellie was already there, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her laptop. She glanced up as I set my bag on the floor beside my chair.

‘Morning, Cara,’ she greeted with a smile.

‘Morning.’

‘Everything all right?’ she asked, her usually bright voice softened with concern. ‘You look a bit tired.’

I sank into my chair with a sigh. ‘I am. Still working on those compliance frameworks for the merger between Elixerion Pharmaceuticals and Porter BioScience.’

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