Page 11 of A Lethal Game of Trust
“The hell are you doing with Dominic Belov?” Jared raged. “If you are fucking him—”
“I’m not,” I hissed. “He’s drunk. You know I hate him.”
He didn’t speak, only breathed loudly down the phone.
“Was I in the photo? No. He thought he was funny.”
And the second I paused to think, I realised I was getting defensive.
“Though it is none of your concern who I’m—”
“We’re not over,” he stated. “We’ll never be over. Make life easier for yourself and just come around. Give in to what we both know will happen eventually.”
For the last two months, I’d kept my distance, only letting him have the slightest hope we would get back together.
Enough that, if I asked for the unthinkable, he might do it to get me back.
But I wasn’t proud enough to pretend I didn’t miss his skin on mine. I missed the way he touched me. I missed sex.
Unlike what Dom said, I could do one night. Then never again.
This way, I would end it. My terms. His begs. My rejection. His loss.
I needed control over something tonight.
“I’ll come over later,” I said, my voice curt.
“What? When you’re done with Dominic? I don’t think so. Come over now.” His voice softened. “Please, Leonie, I need you now. Let me beg you to stay with me. Let me beg with my tongue.”
It wasn’t entirely to do with what he said but also how Dom had the hairs on the back of my neck standing. I needed torelease some of this tension.
One more time.
I had to keep him on side after all.
“I’ll get to you when I get to you.”
And I hung up.
4
ProveIt
Leonie
My heart was still beating stupidly fast. I gathered some clothes, hid the vibrator from my bedside table — I didn’t trust Dom not to go snooping — and dropped off my stuff in Issy’s room before coming back to the open-plan living room.
Issy had resumed her seat, the free strands of her hair damp from the shower. Before them were three shot glasses, two empty. “Come on, Leo.”
I shook my head as I sat back down and picked up the wine that one of them had re-filled in my absence. “I’m drawing the line at shots.”
“You did at least four shots last Saturday,” Dom said. “I had to tap through seven different stories of shots and squeals.”
“Seven is awfully specific,” Issy teased. “Have you been keeping tabs on me, brother?”
He shrugged. “You girls have been getting reckless, and I’ve been checking in to see if you’re okay.”
The door went, our food arrived, and we ate together beforeI dismissed myself. Preparing for my midnight rendezvous, I changed into a pair of black silk pyjamas I had taken from my room and got into bed, covering myself in Issy’s thin duvet. Her mattress was far too soft, and I wished I’d brought my pillow over from my bed.
