AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Kallie groans down the line. “He might get angry if you out him.”
“Hmm. Come on. This is me, here.”
“Yep. Toughest bitch around. Still…”
I hum down the line. “I’ll be clever about it, don’t worry.”
Chapter Six
Friday evening arrives way too quick and I feel like I haven’t had nearly enough time to sort through my plan of attack. Work’s been busy enough on its own, without the latest news headlines about Albie distracting me, too. It was splashed across theDaily Mailthis morning that his mother has died, just a few months since his father passed. They only used old photos of Albie in the piece and nothing that pictured his mum, which leads me to believe he’s gone into hiding to mourn.
In truth, I am aching to call him, because I know this one will have hurt.
Some part of my sick subconscious thought he might’ve stayed under Sharon’s management because she knew something about him and his mum—and that’s why he abandoned me, to protect her, somehow.
Whatever Sharon blackmailed him with, it can’t have been pretty, and it cuts me up every day we’re not in one another’s lives. Sometimes I wish we’d not crossed that line and then perhaps everything could have carried on, right? As it always had done. But then we’d have both never known what it could have been. A Catch-22. Sometimes, I wonder, if the value of friendship is not to be underestimated.
If it had been his mother he was protecting though, surely with her now at peace, he’d have ridden to the rescue straight away and cut ties with his ruthless manager already?
No such luck.
Not even a text from him today, asking for my help. He knows I would, whatever has happened between us.
Anyway, I’ve got to do this. I feel like it’s my responsibility. Miles Farringdon cannot continue getting away with the things he does.
Dressed in a short black chiffon dress with black ankle boots and sparkly tights, I don my game face when the doorbell goes. I leave the door ajar and he’s beaming when he sees me through the open crack. Letting himself inside and shutting the door, I spot he’s wearing a turtle-neck sweater, brick red in colour, plus dark jeans and a suede jacket. His fresh scent wafts across the room so he clearly showered before coming here. When he strides over and kisses me, the damp ends of his luxurious hair give him away.
I can’t see that he’d shower for a lads’ night out, but I can see he’d shower if he had to jump his wife before coming here.
Allowing him to kiss me for a while, I gesture around the room. I’ve laid out candles and incense and I’ve also turned the lighting down low. I’ve also stuffed a pre-prepared meal in the oven.
“I thought we’d have a nice bit of food. I hope you haven’t eaten?”
He wears an uncertain expression for a moment, before shrugging, “I could eat.”
Removing his jacket, he hooks it around the back of one of my dining chairs. It’s just a small table beneath the window at the back of the living room. I offer wine and he says, “Any beer?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I grab him a beer from the kitchen.
I’m coming back into the room when I see him shove his phone quickly back into his pocket, perhaps hoping I wouldn’t see him do that.
It gives me an idea. I need to get into his phone.
Seating myself opposite him, he grins when I play footsie with him under the table. I lay my hand out palm up and he places his own in mine. Despite his obvious nerves, impatience and incredulity at me wanting to feed him, he smiles with a genuine hint of desire and longing—even stares at my hand in his.
“How was your day?” I ask, just in case he wants to spill about Stacie.
You know, because she walked out of the office today mid-afternoon with a boxful of stuff under one arm, bag in the other and a load of mascara running down her cheeks.
His nose wrinkles. “Stacie handed in her notice. Personal issues, so I believe.”
“She got some issues going on at home, has she?” It’s a leading question.
Miles gives no outward indication of guilt, merely shrugs. “No idea. But she can’t bring her crap to work, that’s all I know.”
I smirk disbelievingly. “She’s not working her notice?”
