Page 115 of Worth Every Risk

It sounds horrendous, what I’m accusing them off. They’re barely adults, boys only just grown up, no matter how horrible they are.

“Yes.”

He shakes his head, “Fuck, Aries.” The words hang on a slow exhalation, as though this is all too much for him. “Why didn’t you tell me at the time?” I know he means on the boat, when I first saw the bruises. His voice is so full of sorrow that my heart aches for him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

He runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, leaving it casually tousled. He looks so sexy that even amidst the turmoil in my body, my attraction to him breaks through as strong as ever. I take the smallest step towards him, but he makes no move to close the distance between us.

“Is this… is this over?” My words come out sharp but fragile, like shards of glass. “You said it was over.”

“Fuck.” He drives both hands over his scalp, tugging fistfuls of dark hair. His harried gaze darts to Alec before settling on me, and I know he’s uncomfortable that this is being witnessed. “I don’t know. I’m not going to tell Gemma what’s going on, am I? None of her fucking business.”

This does nothing to reassure me and my heart races in a wild panic.I’m losing him.I can’t stand still, but I don’t know where to go. What to do with my hands, my arms, my feet. Everything is shaking. “Matt, please—”

“Stop. Not now.” He swallows, his eyes like stone. Then, without another word, he follows his ex-wife back up the stairs.

I can’t breathe, I can’t think. I want to rush up the stairs after him.

A heavy silence descends, broken only when Alec whispers, “Did you really toss him off in the middle of Covent Garden?”

34

MATT

The cake sits high and proud on the dining room table. A catastrophic three-tier leaning tower of vanilla icing. It looks like a lump of wax that’s been attacked with a blow torch. The twins stand either side of it, grinning like a pair of fucking idiots. I can barely take it in because my thoughts keep returning to Aries.

Is this… is this over?

“Isn’t it great?” Gemma says, waving at the iced monstrosity, her gaze flicking between me and the cake, waiting for some kind of reaction.

I say nothing, and Gemma brushes past me, calling up the stairs. “Charlie, get down here. Come and see the cake the twins made for you.”

There’s no response from upstairs, and as we wait for Charlie, my attention settles on Mark Charlton, who’s standing with his sons, staring at me.Why the fuck are they here so early?

Mark has this look on his face that makes bile rise up my throat… It’s like he’s secretly delighted by something he knows I won’t like and is bursting to talk about it.

“You brought the whole family?” I query, displeasure evident in my tone. “The party’s not for hours.”

“Of course. We wanted to bring the cake in person,” Gemma replies. “The boys were keen to be here to witness Charlie’s reaction.”

The silence that follows crackles with tension. Unfortunately, it’s Mark Charlton who breaks it.

“Hear you gave the boys an eyeful,” he says, all friendly jocularity, but I know there’s a viper beneath the words.Fucking arsehole. I scowl at him, warning him to stop, but Mark can’t read the room for shit. “Lost all sense of decorum in the presence of a good pair of tits, did you?” He chortles like we’re all in on a good joke. This is why the prick is here. This is the reaction he’s been wanting to see. Nothing to do with Charlie and the fucking birthday cake. “Not that I blame you. She’s quite the looker, that nanny of yours. Where can I get one for the boys?”

There’s a leery smile on his face. The twins chuckle too, their awful laughs and smarmy smiles replicas of their dad’s. The three of them standing there grinning at me like skittles waiting to be knocked down.

Anger rushes through me so violently that a pulse starts beating just above my left cheekbone. An irritating twitch in my peripheral vision.

Footsteps distract me from the Charltons. I turn to find Aries standing in the doorway.Did she hear what they said?My stomach tightens at the thought.

“Here she is,” Mark announces, eyes brightening as he looks over my shoulder. “How much extra do you charge for a hand job? Or is it an all-inclusive package?”

Charlie appears in the doorway, but none of us acknowledge him hovering there like a ghost.

“Mark,” Gemma exclaims, feigning shock, but I know she’s amused. Enjoying the spectacle, even. “Do behave.”

Mark laughs aloud, and the rage I’ve been struggling to control bursts through me. Before I know it, I’m on the other side of the table, grabbing the grey-haired arsehole round the neck.

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