Page 100 of A Lethal Game of Trust

It was nasty.

Dom had invited himself onto my date, my way of getting back out into the world and then brought another girl to make me jealous? A girl that, yes, he was now pinning against the wall. Right by where he had touched me for the first time.

To focus on anything but him, I undid the buttons before me.

Jack bent to my ear. “What is this? Some kind of after-party fourway?”

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” I mumbled against his lips and pulled his shirt out from his trousers to feel the grooves of his abs.

He wasn’thim.

And Dom now had Ivy by the wrists, pressed above her head. Just as he had me.

But she wasn’t me.

I really was justsome girl. I couldn’t do this.

“Food’s here!” I shouted and grabbed my phone to pretend it had just pinged. I read the imaginary text. “Yeah, they’re just outside. I’ll go.”

And, without looking at any of them, I rushed to the door in my slippers.

“Leo, I’ll—” Jack started.

“You’re half-dressed,” Dom snapped at him. “I’ll come with you, Leonie.”

But I didn’t want his company. I wanted nothing but to be left alone.

I slipped into the lift before Dom had closed my front door.

In the lit-up mirror, I pulled down my skirt and ran my finger along the edge of my lips, trying to contain the lipstick smudge. Lift lighting was always far too bright and showed off every crevice, every pore on my face. So not only was I an awful person for that exchange back there, for using Jack, but I was also an ugly, awful person.

I checked my phone, hoping the food had miraculously arrived but I had no such luck. It hadn’t even left the restaurantyet. I could make an excuse about the driver getting lost. At least I’d be able to get out of the building before Dom made it down the four flights of stairs.

But as the door dinged open, he was just on the last step, slightly breathless.

Our security guard for the building eyed us both with caution.

I waved a dismissive hand at Dom. “Don’t speak to me.”

But he jogged to my side. He must have sprinted down the stairs.

“Let’s go and find the delivery guy,” he said and went to take my hand but I pressed on, walking through the door ahead of him.

“Where does it say they are?” he asked, looking around the dark car park.

I looked down at my phone. “Still at the restaurant.”

“What? You…” He breathed out. “Oh.”

I turned away from him, pressing my phone to my pursed lips, trying to hold in a sob.

“Come here,” he said, wrapping his big, warm arms around me, pulling me into his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry if you’re sorry.”

“I don’t want to be sorry. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

He chortled. “Sure.”

“Technically, I’ve done nothing wrong.”