Page 132 of Worth Every Penny

The drawing room floor is littered with pieces of broken ceramic. A teal lampshade sits on the floor like a discarded hat, the stand shattered, the side table conspicuously empty.

Gemma stands in the middle of the room, still immaculate. Her hair is full, her makeup excessive for a morning at home, and she’s elegantly dressed in a pale yellow linen suit. She wrings her hands, twirling her wedding band.

Matt barks at her to sit. She glances at me before obeying, as if hoping I might intervene. But she’s getting nothing from me. I hate cheating as much as Matt does, and regardless of how much my brother’s behaviour may be at fault, he’s still exactly that.My brother.

Matt glares at Gemma, who’s now perched on a neat armchair. “Elliot has some questions for you, about your…” Matt grits his teeth and a muscle feathers in his jaw before he adds, “Lover.”

Gemma’s eyes are lit with fire and she scowls at Matt like she wants to tear out his insides and watch him bleed.

“Do I need a lawyer?” she asks.

“No. But tell the truth, because we believe your little fuck-buddy”—Matt’s mouth twists with disdain—“is involved in criminal activity. He may even have targeted you specifically, probably because you’re married to a Hawkston.”

A small gasp escapes her lips. “Oh, don’t make out no one would want me unless it was about you, you piece of shit.”

Matt snorts. “I’m sure you’d like to think you’re irresistible, but—”

“Fuck you.”

“Let’s keep it civil for now,” I demand, and they fall silent as I shift my focus to Elliot, motioning for him to start. He places a recording device on the coffee table. A red light blinks on it, which Gemma eyes with suspicion. I’m surprised she doesn’t demand he turn it off.

I sit down, ready to observe as Elliot questions her, but just as he’s about to begin, the doorbell rings.

Gemma jumps up, both hands fisting at her sides. Her alarm is disproportionate to the sound. She’s expecting someone.

All three of us realise at the same moment, and we move as a unit out into the hall. Matt’s closest to the door. He runs, and Elliot follows.

Gemma pushes forward too, but she hasn’t a hope in hell of getting past all of us.

“Curtis!” she screams. “Run.”

Curtis?What the fuck? I thought we were looking for a Daniel.

Elliot grabs Gemma, holding her back as Matt opens the door to a surprised-looking man, who’s already backing down the steps.

Dark, lank hair, skinny black jeans. Gold trainers. There in front of us is Curtis Bellamy, Mrs. Lansen’s boyfriend.

Fuck me.

“Shit,” he cries, taking in the sight of us all standing in the doorway. Behind him in the driveway is a white van, with the ghost of an enormous penis on the side. He trips over himself to get away, but Matt grabs him, hauling him into the house by the neck of his shirt.

“Oi!” Curtis yells, staring bug-eyed, at Matt. “You can’t do this. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Who the fuck are you, more like?” Matt booms, throwing Curtis to the floor where he skids along the polished wood floor, landing in a heap at Gemma’s feet.

“Babe,” Curtis pleads, only getting one word out before I step forward, and it’s clear from the way his cheeks pale and his mouth gapes that he hadn’t registered me until this moment.

“Curtis,” I mock, watching him squirm. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Gemma’s chin dimples, bottom lip quivering.

Curtis curls up like a dog expecting a beating.

Elliot gets down on the floor beside him and searches him, rough hands patting down his flailing body.

“Get your hands off me,” Curtis roars.

Elliot flips him so he’s face down, rams a knee into his back to hold him in place, and triumphantly tugs a wallet from Curtis’s back pocket. He flips it open and removes a driving licence, flashing it for us to see. “This is your man. Daniel Hunter.”

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