Page 92 of How to Get Even

Three dots appeared. Stopped. Appeared again and stopped again.

Astrid

I just… thought that you might have…

Bella

What?

Astrid

You know. Fallen for his charm.

Panic rose in her chest as she typed angrily onto her screen.

Bella

What charm?

Astrid

B, I know exactly the kind of charm Chase has.

Bella hated the sudden twist of jealousy that thankfully flamed out as brightly as it had come into being.

Astrid

And I also know the kind of woman that would interest him.

Bella’s heartbeat picked up. She didn’t want to be having this conversation, certainly not at a dinner table with Chase sitting right next to her and practically frowning at her and her phone.

Astrid

And I want you to know that it’s okay.

Because I know you’d feel bad and I know you wouldn’t do it if you thought it was bad.

Because, B, you’re a good girl – one of the best I know – and it’s okay to be good. And it’s okay to be happy.

Oh shit. Bella felt tears press against the backs of her eyes.

Astrid

So if you find yourself wanting to have something with Chase, then know it’s okay.

That’s all. Love you. Xx

They’d not talked about it. Bella certainly hadn’t said anything to Astrid or anyone else about the feelings she was beginning to have for Chase. No. Not feelings, because she knew that they weren’t right for each other, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. She wanted him. And Astrid had just taken away one of the last barriers preventing her from doing anything about it. With trembling fingers, she tucked her phone back into her clutch, aware of Chase watching her with hooded eyes.

‘Is everything okay?’ Chase asked, his voice low for her ears only.

She nodded. Wiped the corner of her eye with the pad of her thumb, cleared her throat and nodded again.

Waiters appeared, clearing the dessert plates, and offered coffee and digestifs to those who wanted them, ahead of the silent auction announcements.

She tried to avoid looking at Chase, but as the lights went down in the room to spotlight the MC for the dinner, she couldn’t help herself. Her gaze came back again and again to the profile she could just about make out as the spotlight swirled around the room to highlight each winning bidder.

She took in the line of his jaw, the slight angle of his nose, the furrow to his brow and the tension across his shoulder. She wanted to touch it, trace her finger along it. She wanted to know whether his skin was as warm as she imagined, as rough as she imagined. Whether he was as rough as she imagined.

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