Page 79 of Wanting Mr Black

“Have you been following me?” he demands.

“Or don’t I need to ask? I suppose it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

His frown deepens. “You’ve been following me.”

The sound of disappointment in his voice makes me feel like shit. I hate him for making me feel this way, and I hate myself for allowing him to affect me like this.

“Don’t you dare try to turn this around. I’ve just caught you with her, coming out of this place.”

“Caught.” His jaw twitches with anger. “You think I fucked her?”

I stall.Do I?I’ve never pinned him as a cheater. If I had, I wouldn’t be with him.Do I really believe he’s slept with another woman?My head’s all over the place, and I don’t know what to think anymore. Either way, he’s lied to me.

“You told me you were going to the club …”

“You mentioned the club; I just went along with it. And in fact, I’ve been to a club, just not the one you thought I had.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m stating a fact.” He wears a wounded expression as he glares at me. “You do think I fucked her, don’t you?”

“We promised no more lies,” I snap.

This isn’t what he wants to hear.

Anger dances in his eyes. “I’m not doing this out on the street. I’ll see you at home. We need to talk.”

The last sentence hangs ominously in the air as he storms off across the road, not waiting for me to respond. I stand on the pavement, vibrating with anger as I watch him climb into his car and pull away with a squeal of tyres. He clearly thinks I’m being unreasonable.

What the fuck?

I don’t remember the drive home and barely hear Derek’s cheery welcome as I slowly climb the stairs to the apartment. My mind is consumed with dread as niggling doubt preoccupies my thoughts while my insecurities and feelings for him wrestle it out.

Why did he meet her?

Why did he meet her at that bloody club?

I feel sick with nerves as I push open the door, to be greeted by silence. I discard my keys on the hall table and walk through to the living area.

We both want answers. I sure as hell do, and if he wants to talk, we’ll sit down and discuss it like proper grown-ups.

As the hall opens out into the living area, I come to a halt because what I expect to find and what I do find are two very different things.

I expect to see Art sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, looking pissed off. But I don’t.

There’s no sign of him, but I know he’s been back to the apartment. I know that for a fact because there are tiny pieces of paper littered all over the coffee table and parquet floor.

I frown.Why the hell has he made a mess and then vanished?

My eyes swing to the empty kitchen counter.

The letter.

Panic grips my heart like a vice as I look back at the paper confetti scattered all over the floor.

The letter from Theo.

Art read it.

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