Page 14 of Filthy Business

“Hit me with it,” he said in a bored voice.

I pursed my lips, but he was my oldest friend.

“I did it. I asked her to consider having me as a sugar daddy.”

“No way! You fucking liar. You didn’t. Did you? Fuck. You probably did. You’ve not had your dick wet since 2012. Okay. I need to calm down. What did she say?”

I began pacing, waving my hand about as I told him everything. The more I talked, the crazier it all sounded.

“Oh fuck. She’s going to call the police on me, isn’t she?”

“Uh. Actually, I don’t think so, mate,” he said, then paused.“I think she’s seriously going to consider it. Student loans and interest are no joke nowadays. Rent in London is atrocious.”

“Hmm. She does live in a shithole with two other roommates.”

“This is why people are probably turning to OnlyFans.”

“What’s that?”

“Never mind. You’re not divorced yet, so this is still classed as an affair.”

I rolled my eyes.“And you think Leona hasn’t stepped out on me while I buried myself in work? I’m not a complete moron.”

“The opinions would be divided on that front.”

“If I wanted abuse, I would’ve called Leona.”

He snickered.“You did the right thing. Just don’t go falling in love and marry the next girl you fuck.”

“Says the person who tried to hit on his divorce lawyer.”

“This is why I don’t answer your calls.”

Silence.

“Hello? Hello?”

I checked my screen and saw the dickhead had hung up on me.

After a few deep breaths, I opened the laptop and began drafting a contract. I created a tick-box for what Iris would feel comfortable with. If she wanted to take it slowly, I’d accommodate her.

I didn’t expect her to jump on my dick after one dinner.

That would be wishful thinking on my part.

Chapter 7

Iris

I sat in my rust bucket with my binoculars glued to his apartment. It didn’t surprise me that he’d moved into a place with glass on all sides. After being married to that spawn of Satan, cunt-faced bitch, the need to see daylight—and actual life—would be a necessity.

I cackled, stuffing popcorn into my mouth as I watched him pace the length of his living room. Rich people’s food came in such tiny portions.

He was on the phone with someone. Raked his hand through his hair. Started pacing again. His arm waved in the air like he was trying to swat his own spiralling thoughts.

He was so cute.

But it also meant I’d played it right tonight. If I’d agreed instantly, he might’ve become suspicious.