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I catch the elevator to the penthouse and pour myself a scotch. I stare out of the smoked-glass windows that overlook London.
I hear the door click behind me, and I close my eyes, already regretting what I’m about to do.
“Hello,” the feminine voice behind me says.
I turn to see Veronica, and my stomach drops. “Hello.”
She’s blonde and wearing a sexy black dress. She has a killer body—a body that has pleasured me many times before.
I sip my scotch with a shaky hand, my eyes holding hers.
She kneels in front of me and begins to unfasten my belt.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
She kisses my thigh. “You like that?” she whispers.
I stay silent.
Her hand reaches for my cock and she strokes it three times, I clench my jaw.
Her lips brush the end of me. My cock jerks in appreciation and I close my eyes in disgust.
I see a vision of Bree. My beautiful Bree.
No.
I step back from her. “Stop.”
She frowns. “I haven’t even started yet.” She crawls closer and I immediately step back again.
“Leave.”
“What?” She frowns.
“I said leave,” I whisper. I turn my back to her and zip my pants back up.
I need to get out of here. I grab my wallet and my keys, and then I rush from the room. I hit the button on the elevator three times to try and make it arrive quicker. My heart is racing and I’m losing control.
I fall into my car and put my head into my hands. Tears fill my eyes and I sob out loud.
I’m in a dark place.
Help me.
Bree
I’m sitting in the café with Frances. We have lunch twice a week.
I still adore her, despite it now being two months since Julian and I broke up.
I miss him every single day.
To the outside world, he seems fine, but I can see in his eyes that he's not.
I can’t help him. He needs to work through this, whatever this is.
His mother told me he’s been seeing a therapist twice a week, and not the kind who gets on her knees. A real one. One who I hope is getting through to him. I want him happy, he deserves to be happy.
