A Deadly Affair—The Femme Fatale Series Page 7

  “You can't come, babykins. No, you have to stay here with daddy.”

  Since she couldn't understand English, Jesse responded to Cynthia's baby talk with delight and excitement, making a chuffing noise and wagging her tail. Cynthia leaned down and placed a big kiss on top of Jesse's head before turning and bending down to kiss Greg who sat on the sofa.

  “Charming! The dog gets a kiss before me.”

  Cynthia laughed as she kissed him one more time then gave him a bone-crushing hug. “Sorry again, babe, but I'll make it up to you when I come home.”

  “Now that I'll look forward to.”

  As Cynthia left the living room with Jesse on her heels, Greg called out, “Ring me when you know how long you'll be.”

  “Will do. See you later.”

  Greg heard the car start-up in the garage, the sound mingled with Jesse's pitiful whines, whines that continued long after the sound of Cynthia's car had faded. Greg stood and walked out of the living room. Sure enough there sat Jesse, facing the door that led to the garage. Seeing Greg, she gave him a pitiful look then continued gazing at the door, as if trying to bring back Cynthia with the power of her mind.

  “She's only going for a few hours, Jesse. She is coming back.”

  Greg wandered into the kitchen and headed for the fridge. Just because Cynthia wasn't here that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a few glasses of wine by himself. He pulled the bottle from the fridge, opened it then retrieved a glass. As he was looking in the freezer for something to cook for his tea, Jesse wandered into the kitchen and sat by his side.

  “Ah, so you're not too depressed to eat then.”

  Jesse regarded him with interest as he rifled through the freezer drawers. He was really hungry, but found he couldn't be bothered to cook anything. Greg sighed and stood up straight. Jesse looked up at him and he looked down at her. “I really can't be arsed,” he told her. She wagged her tail in response, perhaps assuming he was offering her something to eat.

  Greg left the kitchen and headed back to the living room. They kept all their take-out menus in a drawer underneath the TV. He decided to order take-out for himself and Cynthia. He'd order Cynthia her favourite pizza and warm it in the oven after she called him on her way back home. After pondering the menu for a few minutes, he settled on a kebab with chilli sauce and mayonnaise for himself and a seafood pizza for Cynthia. He called in his order and groaned inwardly as they informed him it'd be about an hour until delivery.

  With nothing to do for the next hour except wait as his stomach growled, Greg settled back with a glass of wine and the TV remote. Normally an evening like this would have been heaven; the TV to himself and food on the way, but tonight he really missed Cynthia. This was the first time since his affair with Ashley that he'd looked forward to spending time with Cynthia, just the two of them. In his own way he wanted to make up for his betrayal, though Cynthia knew nothing of it and he ached to ease his conscience. Alone with only Jesse for company, who was now sprawled out at his feet and snoring loudly, apparently having given up hope of any food coming her way any time soon, Greg found his thoughts straying, straying to the times he spent with Ashley, the memories flashing with images of Cynthia's face.

  Pretty soon Greg's good mood evaporated. Though he felt guilty for his actions he couldn't fight the arousal brought on by the memories of Ashley. He'd always hated men who cheated as he'd never understood it. Yes he'd had girlfriends, but not many of them and he'd always been loyal to every woman he'd ever been with. He'd always thought of men who pursued affairs to be pretty shallow and weak, the need for multiple partners nothing more than an attempt to boost their own ego. Yet, in spite of his morals and principles, he was now a cheater, betrayer and basically a piece of shit. How had he allowed himself to be seduced so easily when his love for Cynthia was so strong? According to the relationship experts, cheating was a result of dissatisfaction within the relationship. The cheater was merely searching for something that he wasn't getting from his partner, yet he had more than he ever dreamed he'd have with Cynthia.

  Greg stood, picked up his wineglass, and wandered into the kitchen, his mind tumbling over with negative thoughts.

  Perhaps if he'd been a little bit more prepared for Ashley he'd have been able to resist her. His experience with women was very limited. He'd been the typical awkward teenager around girls, late to mature and very shy. He'd had a series of relationships, each one ending well with not one broken heart in his past. Never once had any other woman thrown herself at him the way Ashley had. Before Cynthia, Greg could have only dreamed of a girl like Ashley handing herself to him on a plate. His limited experience with women had left him vulnerable. For the handsome man who had women throwing themselves at him on a regular basis, resisting them is so much easier.

  I've got to let this go. Lay it to rest and let it go.

  Greg opened the fridge and reached for the second bottle of wine. I'd better quit drinking like this or I'll be polluted by the time Cynthia gets home and she'll wonder what's wrong. He poured himself a new glass of wine, telling himself to take it easy with this one and made his way back into the living room, his glass in one hand, the bottle of wine in the other. Jesse opened her eyes and raised her head as he entered the room. She greeted him with a big wag of her tail, though she didn't get up.

  “Sorry. Have I disturbed you?”

  He sat down on the sofa and met Jesse's eyes. Immediately, she stood and began sniffing him, his hands mainly as she wagged her tail excitedly.

  “Sorry, I have nothing for you. Perhaps if you'd woke your lazy ass up and come to the kitchen with me you might have gotten something.”

  Jesse whined a little and sat down, her large dark eyes sad. The realisation that Greg had no food for her was devastating. Actually feeling guilty under the dog's woeful stare, Greg took another sip of his wine. He was starting to feel a bit light-headed due to drinking too much wine too fast. Hopefully his kebab would sober him up a little. He picked up the remote and began to channel surf ,annoyed that he couldn't find anything interesting to watch in spite of having 60+ channels. He was taking another sip of wine when Jesse stood and placed one paw on the sofa beside him. When Greg didn't react she placed her other paw on the sofa and stood. As her back leg began to rise Greg placed his hand against her chest and push softly.

  “Oh, no. You are not getting up here with me.”

  Jesse whined again, her dark eyes meeting his. In spite of himself, Greg felt bad.

  “Okay,” he told her. “Come on then.” He patted the other end of the sofa as far away from him as possible. “Come on and lie down.”

  Instead, Jesse lay down right beside him and placed her head in his lap.

  “Hey,” Greg said, annoyed. “Go and lie down on that end.” Jesse looked up at him and wagged her tail, looking cute and goofy at the same time. Greg's sighed irritably. “Okay just for a little while. And don't you be telling anybody.”

  Around five minutes later as Greg was once again channel surfing and becoming more and more annoyed, the doorbell rang. Greg jumped up and grabbed his money off the fireplace as Jesse ran to the front door, barking loudly. Greg hurried after her, grabbed her collar and called, “Just a moment.” He pulled her back to the living room then closed the door to prevent her from jumping all over the delivery man and running off.

  “Sorry about that,” Greg said as he pulled the front door open ― then stopped dead. There was nobody there. Greg tutted irritably, shaking his head as Jesse barked madly from the living room. Probably some stupid kids playing knocka-door-run. He was about to shut the door when something caught his eye. There was a pile of something laying on the welcome mat. Looking closer, Greg realised it was a bunch of roses, red and white ones mixed together.

  But there was nothing pretty about these roses.

  Every single rose within the bunch had been destroyed: petals had been torn off; the buds had been squashed. It looked as though someone had savagely ripped the roses apart before standi
ng on them repeatedly. Laying on top of the mangled roses was a folded pieces of paper. Surprised and confused, but not particularly worried, Greg bent down and picked up the piece of paper, looking right and left as he did so. Seeing no-one nearby, he unfolded the note ― then gasped as the scrawled letters sent a shock wave through his body. Though only six words were written, their meaning was obvious. Also obvious was the author.

  Greg looked down again at the mangled roses. He needed to move them before Cynthia saw them so he ran into the kitchen to retrieve a plastic carrier bag. He picked up all the roses and the petals and any other debris before placing them into the bag. He carried the welcome mat to the side of the house and shook it vigorously before placing it back in front of the door. Tying up the carrier bag Greg checked the whole area making sure nothing remained of the roses before carrying the plastic bag to the wheelie bin. He threw the bag inside the bin, the note still clutched within his fist. Before throwing that into the bin he read it one more time.

  You fucked with the wrong woman.

  Chapter Thirteen

  All I've ever wanted is love. To be with someone, together. To have someone there for me, someone who adores me and would do anything for me. Someone who takes my loneliness away. I don't think that's too much to ask.

  But apparently, it is.

  Greg has no idea what he's done. I really thought we could have been something. I saw something within him that he didn't see; he's not like any other man I've ever met. That's why I was so drawn to him. I could have made him so happy, we could have been so happy together. But no. He's chosen this instead.

  He has no idea what he's got himself into. If he thinks he can treat me like this and get away with it he's got another thing coming. I gave him his roses back with a little note, a little warning of what's to come.

  By the time I'm finished with him he'll wish he'd never been born.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Greg tiptoed into the bedroom, narrowly avoiding tripping over Jesse who insisted on staying as close to him as possible. The breakfast tray he carried contained two cups of tea and two plates of bacon sandwiches and Greg was sure Jesse was trying to knock him over to get to the food. He eased his way around her and approached the bed on Cynthia's side. Putting the breakfast tray down on her bedside table, Greg leaned over her and placed his hand on her head. “Morning babe.”

  Cynthia groaned, turning away from him and pulling the covers all over her head. “It's Sunday morning,” she groaned. “Are you crazy? I only got home after 12. What time is it?”

  “It's just after nine.”

  “Okay. I'll make you a deal―you leave now and I won't kill you.”

  “But I've brought you breakfast in bed : a bacon sandwich with a cup of tea.”

  Cynthia groaned again, the sound muffled by the pillow before throwing the covers off her head and sitting up. She squinted at him as her eyes adjusted to the light. Greg smiled down at her, marvelling at her beauty even though her hair was tussled, her eyes were swollen and her expression was thunderous. She turned to look at the breakfast tray beside her then looked at Greg.

  “Okay, what's going on? Do you want morning sex, or have you done something wrong?”

  Greg tried to smile even as her words sent a cold feeling flooding through his stomach.

  “Why would I have done anything wrong? You only got in late last night so I thought I'd treat you to breakfast in bed.”

  Cynthia made a hmmm sound and regarded him suspiciously.

  “Is that all? Or could it be you feeling guilty this morning?”

  Greg stood as he felt the colour drained from his face.

  “Guilty? Why should I feel guilty?”

  Cynthia sighed as she pulled herself up to a sitting position, crossing her legs and draping the covers over her. “Because you drank all the wine last night, both bottles. You didn't even save me a glass. Thanks for the pizza but a glass of wine to wash it down with would have been nice.”

  Relief flooded Greg and he laughed shakily.

  “I'm sorry about that. I kind of got carried away and didn't realise how much I'd drank.”

  Cynthia twisted and picked up the breakfast tray, placing it on the bed in front of her. She patted the bed beside and gestured for Greg to sit down. “I still think you're a shit for drinking all the wine, but you score points for this. This is really nice.”

  Walking around his side of the bed Greg said, “Yes, someone else thinks so, too.” Cynthia looked at Jesse and laughed at the dog's sullen expression.

  “Aw, did daddy cook all the bacon and not give Jessy Wessy any?”

  Jesse whined in response, her tail thumping the carpet. As they ate their breakfast they chatted about Cynthia's work the night before and her surprise at finding Greg fast asleep in bed when she came home.

  Greg nodded and agreed, though it wasn't true. Greg was wide awake when Cynthia arrived home― he'd just pretended to be asleep because he couldn't face her. He'd remained awake long after Cynthia fell asleep, thinking about the roses, the note and Ashley. Just what was she trying to achieve? What had he done to make her angry with him? She'd known he was married when she threw herself at him, and again when she'd set him up at the Mansion, so why had she flipped after spotting him with Cynthia at the restaurant?

  It appeared that Ashley was crazy, or at least, a little unhinged.

  But, as Greg was thinking all this the night before as he lay sleepless in his bed another thought occurred to him.

  Mike.

  What if Mike had sent those roses and the note. What if Mike was trying to send Greg over the edge. Perhaps Mike thought if Greg believed that Ashley was going to expose their affair it would tip him over the edge and he would confess to Cynthia. He'd believe that it was Mike before he would Ashley. He was sure Mike believed on some level that what he was doing was right by Cynthia, but Greg knew Mike. He was still reeling from the night that Cynthia chose him over Mike. This was Mike's chance to right what he saw as a very big wrong. Maybe he even planned to try and get Cynthia. Either way, whether Greg believed it was Ashley or Mike, it looked as though he was in serious trouble. Whoever it was playing these games wasn't just going to stop. He may have to accept that at some point he was going to have to confess all to Cynthia.

  Cynthia loved him, she also trusted him, and it was her trust in him that would break her love if she were to find out about his affair. For the first time in a long time, the tears had flowed for Greg as he lay in bed thinking of a day when Cynthia was no longer his wife. He'd even thought of the worst case scenario― Cynthia was no longer his wife and sharing a bed with Mike, the man who had been there for her after her husband's affair was exposed. If that was the angle that Mike was working Greg was going to need to do some serious damage control. The more he thought about it, the more he hoped that this was Mike and not Ashley. If Ashley wanted him and wanted to ruin his marriage out of revenge he could see no way to deter her from this, but if it was Mike, Greg just might be able to control the damage that Mike intended to cause.

  He needed to find out who had sent the roses with the note : Ashley or Mike. He'd cast his mind back to the night in the restaurant. Ashley had looked him in the eyes as she'd stated that he'd invited her there. Her anger seemed to stem from this fact and arriving to find him with his wife. At the time, Greg assumed she'd been lying and had decided she'd set up the confrontation. But what if she had been invited there by Mike? It would explain everything. Maybe Mike invited Ashley to the restaurant by pretending to be him. He remembered Mike came into his office that day and asked where he would be with Cynthia. The more Greg thought about it the more probable it became. So if Mike was the one who caused the confrontation in the restaurant, who did Greg believe left the roses the night before and what did the roses represent? If Ashley had sent them, had she simply bought a bouquet of roses to mangle them and leave on Greg's doorway?

  That question had left Greg stumped for a while. He'd never given Ashley roses or e
ven mentioned roses to her, so why did she choose roses to convey her threatening message? As Greg was dozing off to sleep a thought occurred to him ― maybe Mike had sent the roses with a request for a meeting in the restaurant to Ashley? In a lot of ways that did make sense as Greg remembered Ashley telling him that he'd invited her only for her to arrive at the restaurant and find him with his wife.

  It would certainly explain why she was so pissed off. If she believed Greg was the one who'd asked her on a date, and arrived at said date with his wife, she would believe he was playing games with her and she would feel angry, played, and used. He supposed if that was the case he was lucky that leaving some mangled roses on his doorstep was all she had done.

  The thing that really bothered him the most, was the note. You fucked with the wrong woman. It appeared that the roses were not the last he was going to hear from Ashley. Just what did she have in mind? After seeing him in the restaurant with his wife, Ashley had chose to stay and have drinks when he thought that many other women would have simply left in shame and anger. She hadn't even attempted to approach Cynthia. Was she simply going to cause trouble and get a little bit of revenge then leave him alone, or was she out to sabotage his marriage?

  When Greg considered all the facts, his main problem seemed to be Mike, Even if Ashley was not out to sabotage his marriage, Mike was. And he didn't have a clue how to handle that.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Cynthia as she tucked into her bacon sandwich.

  “Nothing. Just enjoying a lazy Sunday morning in bed with you.”

  “You seem as if you are a million miles away. Did something happen last night?”

  Greg tried to hide his surprise. A woman's intuition was uncanny. “No. Why do you ask?”

  Cynthia shrugged. “It's not like you to polish off all that wine and then go to bed so early. I just wondered if something happened, or if you were upset about something.”