The First Mistake(26)

‘Sorry, I didn’t see it until it was too late, but this was in the pocket. I hope it isn’t anything important.’ I hand him the bombshell, which I’ve wet along the creases, just enough to give it the appearance of having seen better days, but without any of the incriminating evidence being destroyed.

I watch as he opens it carefully with his forefinger and thumb, a slight irritation to him now. He peels one side painstakingly slowly away from the other, so as not to damage the damp paper. How ironic that in just a few seconds he’s going to wish he’d done the exact opposite.

He stares at the Conrad logo blankly before looking at me. I’m careful to keep my expression neutral, to make him think there’s still a chance I haven’t yet looked at it.

‘What’s this?’ he asks.

I stay silent, waiting for the penny to drop.

‘Oh, it’s just my hotel bill,’ he says dismissively, before folding it carefully again. ‘No doubt I’ll need that for accounts.’

‘Are all entertaining expenses tax deductible then?’ I ask casually, picking at imaginary fluff from a cushion.

A funny noise emits from his throat. I’m not sure if it’s because he realizes I’ve seen it or if it’s a derisory snort at my comment. If I look at him I’ll be able to tell which it is from the expression on his face, but I don’t want to know.

‘It’s not entertaining, Al,’ he says. ‘I was there on business.’

‘Well, that all depends on how the taxman views it,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure he’d see a couple’s massage as business, do you?’

He doesn’t miss a beat. ‘A couple’s massage? Where on earth did you get that idea from? I was there on business. For AT Designs. For you.’

‘Don’t you dare make out that you’re doing me a favour.’

‘Jesus,’ he says, standing up. ‘First it’s an earring, now it’s a hotel bill.’

‘Don’t forget the bouquet to Rachel,’ I sneer. ‘What were you apologizing to her for? Have you had a lovers’ tiff? I bet you tore a strip off the florist for delivering it to the card holder’s address instead of your darling Rachel’s. Is that where you’ve been this afternoon? Buying another bouquet and delivering it personally?’

He comes towards me. ‘Listen to yourself,’ he snaps. ‘What the hell is going on with you?’

It takes all my willpower not to swing at him. How dare he insinuate it’s all in my head? ‘Do you honestly think I’m stupid?’

His jawline clenches involuntarily. ‘I haven’t got a clue what—’

‘Look!’ I shout, snatching the bill out of his hands. I’m not nearly as careful as he was opening it. ‘There.’

His brow creases as he leans in to look at it more closely.

‘I honestly have no idea what that even is.’

I roll my eyes, exasperated.

‘Honestly, I don’t know where that’s come from. That’s not my bill.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ I snap. ‘Are you really expecting me to believe that?’

He takes it from me and stares at it, shaking his head. ‘This isn’t my bill.’

I fold my arms. ‘So, you didn’t pay $792.60?’

‘Nowhere near. I only had a few extras, because the room was paid for in advance. They must have given me this printout by mistake afterwards.’

‘You must think I was born yesterday.’

‘Alice, I promise,’ he says gently.

I want to believe him, and as I allow the possibility that it could all, somehow, be a comedy of errors, I suddenly feel spent. I fall back onto the sofa as all the nervous energy of the past couple of days consumes me.

‘So, you’re telling me I don’t need to worry?’

He looks me squarely in the eyes. ‘About Japan? Yes, we do need to worry because there’s no guarantee we’re going to get it and if we do, you need to be ready. But I swear on the girls’ lives that I’m not having an affair.’

I flinch as he uses Sophia and Olivia to bet on.





11


Lottie sees me struggling with my mood boards from the window of the office and runs out to help.

‘Is this all for Japan?’ she says, tilting them this way and that to get a look at them. ‘Wow, they’re amazing.’ Her enthusiasm is infectious.

‘I changed some things up over the weekend. I just wanted to see how they sat against the walnut floors.’ I don’t tell her that I’d done it through the fog of a hangover after drinking myself into a stupor after Nathan had gone to bed on Saturday night. I’m still not feeling quite myself a day later – it seems to take me so much longer to recover than it used to. Though I can’t imagine it helps when I’m mixing gin and wine with antidepressants.

‘I think Nathan’s on the phone now,’ she says through a wide grin, as I hold the door open for her. ‘Might it be the decision?’

My stomach does a somersault as I look at my watch. ‘Oh God, it wasn’t supposed to be happening until 11.30.’ I let out an involuntary squeak, though I don’t know whether it’s from nerves or excitement.

I try to gauge Nathan’s expression as I peer through the striped glass panels of his office wall, but although he must see me, he shows no flicker of recognition.