He literally doesn’t give a flying horse of a f**k. He thinks he is doing me a favour, running to my desperate p***y’s aid now I have no husband to see to me. He thinks me easy meat and him too good – too rich – to resist. It doesn’t bother him that the one he wants to betray is also one of my few friends. It is just so easy for him; no moral problem whatsoever. He surely can’t have a prick that big, can he? Heidi would have told me.
“I was thinking of making it our little secret,” he says, those eyebrows popping upwards again. “That’s a tasty looking cocktail you have there – what’s it called?”
The fire is in my stomach but I don’t let it bubble through me. I’m too good a player for that. This conceited s**t; this would-be cheat. This is how my husband would have done it too, how every
