Page 72 of Forever Mr Black

“Correct.”

“Not even with me?” I push.

His mouth twitches in amusement, and he fights the urge to smile. “I know what you’re doing.”

“What?”

“You’re trying to make me feel guilty.”

I’ve had enough of this. “Are you totally against the idea?”

“No, I’m not totally against it.”

“So, you would consider it.”

“Of course. It just goes against the grain to let someone else control me in that way.”

“I’ll just have to catch you unawares then,” I tease.

He laughs at my optimism. “How are you ever going to catch me unawares? And even if you did, what would you do?”

“I have my ways, Mr Black.”

And my new secret weapon.

He starts the car and eyes me suspiciously with a smile. “Come on. Let’ head home. This playing detective lark’s tiring stuff.”

Twenty-Two

Iwake the next morning with a rumbling stomach and the smell of coffee. I climb out of bed, get washed, and pull on a light-grey baggy jumper and soft bed socks before heading into the kitchen.

Art’s laptop is on the kitchen counter, and he’s stirring two mugs of coffee.

“Morning.”

He looks up as I slide onto a stool and lean forward against the counter. White T-shirt and navy sweatpants cling to him, and his hair’s a mess. The just got out of bed look suits him. Come to think of it, every look suits him. He gives me a bleary-eyed smile.

“Morning, beautiful. I was just about to see if you were awake and wanted breakfast.”

He slides one of the mugs towards me. I curl my hands around it with a grateful smile.

“Yes, please.”

He ruffles his fingers through his hair to try and tame it, but it doesn’t work. It looks even more of a mess. But I like it. The fact that no one sees this bedhead, slightly rumpled side of him but me warms my heart.

“You looked tired,” I say.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He takes a sip of coffee and then puts the mug down, thinking carefully about what he’s about to say. “I kept thinking about the stuff Tara said last night … about Theo. I’ve contacted the PI and asked him to up the surveillance. I want daily reports on his movements. I’m determined to get to the bottom of this. He’s got something planned. I just know it.”

My appetite vanishes. “We don’t know that. No one’s seen him for days. He’s probably given up. Him calling Mum and Martin and showing up here were most likely a sick and twisted joke of his.”

Art plants his palms on the counter and leans forward, clenching his jaw. “He says your name as he comes inside another woman. I doubt that was a joke.”

I stare at my coffee, stomach rolling with nausea as I try hard not to think about what he just said. “Tara likes to cause trouble. She could have made it up …”

“Tara didn’t realise you were his ex when she said that. Stop minimising.” His voice is firm.

I freeze as his words land hard.

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