Page 93 of A Lethal Game of Trust

LEONIE: You can handle another night.

SAMMY YUN X: I’ve been waiting over two years, Leonie.

Not strictly true. He’d been engaged in that time.

The door went and I heard Issy and a male voice in the hallway. I paused putting on another coat of mascara, mouth slightly open. It couldn’t be… no, nothisvoice.

I rocked back in my chair to peer past my door, only to see Dom’s tall frame loitering in the living room, Issy passing him a glass of white wine.

Navy blue checked trousers and a light blue t-shirt. I nearly rocked too far, I was ogling so hard. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw him in anything other than monochrome.

“Where’s Leonie?” he asked and I crept to the door, listening eagerly.

“Just getting ready,” Issy said and I heard the wheels of her suitcase as she rolled it to the front door. “I’d much prefer it if you two hadn’t made these plans and would come home with me.”

“We’ll be there tomorrow, don’t you worry,” he said, and through the crack of the hinge, I saw him sit on the sofa, staring at my open door but not quite seeing me.

Tomorrow? What was he doing here if he wasn’t travelling down with her tonight?

“Yeah,” she moaned, “hungover.”

He drank some of the wine and lifted it up for her to refill. She did so dutifully. “Thanks, Is.”

“Wait,” she said, turning back. “Are you and Leo comingdown together?”

I couldn’t tell his facial expression because he looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Probably.”

“Please don’t argue and ruin my birthday.”

“We won’t argue.”

The shrill sound of our phone rang again and, as Issy went to answer it, I decided it was time to stop hiding.

He watched my entrance, taking me in over his glass of wine as he sat back, resting an ankle over a knee.

I wanted to sink into his lap.

“Hello, Leonie.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, crossing my ankles and arms as I leaned against the door frame.

“Come to pick you up for our double date,” he said, his eyes on the hem of my dress. It was very short.

I ground my teeth, glaring at him. “It became a single date. Who are you bringing? Not Mia—”

“No, not Mia.”

“Then who?” I asked, my arms tightening around myself.

He stood, emptied his glass down his throat and walked around the coffee table to hover beside me. “Are you jealous, little lion?”

“No.”

But he just grinned, both dimples clear, as he went to the fridge and topped up his drink again, pouring one for me.

I joined him to take it. I bloody needed one.

“I don’t want you here,” I hissed. “That’s not fair.”