‘It’s early days.’ I scrape my fingers through my damp hair.
‘She complained about Jared within ten minutes. Little did I know they swiftly came to an agreement shortly after.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Has she tried to proposition you?’ Ryan asks.
‘What?’ The colour drains from my cheeks. Are there cameras in here? Not five fucking minutes earlier, that’s exactly what she did.
‘Has she tried to cut a deal with you?’
Oh.
‘No.’
Not like that, anyway.
‘Probably because she likes having you around. It’s perfect.’
‘Hmm.’ I keep my mouth shut because the truth is, I like being here. More than I should. Even the runs have been rewarding.
‘Has there been any blowback from the nightclub shooting? Do you have any reason to believe Victoria’s presence was anything other than a coincidence?’
‘I’m pretty sure that was random, but I won’t let her out of my sight, just in case.’
‘Good man.’ Ryan exhales heavily.
If only you knew…
‘I’ll keep you updated,’ I promise.
‘Right, well, look after her. And yourself.’ He disconnects the call.
Victoria strutsaround the kitchen wearing a dress that can only be described as fit for the beach. It’s white, see-through and buttons up the front like an oversized shirt. She hums along to a Bastille song blaring through the retro-looking radio as she chops an onion.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asks.
I’m fucking starved. For sex, that is. It’s been a long time since I even attempted to date anyone. Coming here has only served to reinforce why.
‘Yeah, I’d eat.’ I avert my eyes from the clear outline of the thong wedged between her peachy ass cheeks, but not before she catches me looking.
Does she have to wear such a provocative outfit to make dinner? My balls are already blue and burning.
Teresa May.
Margaret Thatcher.
Camilla Parker-Bowles.
‘I’m making fajitas.’ Since I made her carbonara, she’s cooked for me twice. Tomorrow, I’m going to make her something sensational. After twelve hours on A&E, she’ll need it.
‘Sounds good.’ I check my phone. It’s easier than trying to stare past Victoria’s shoulder. Or pretend not to stare at her bum.
The screen lights up with an incoming call. It’s my sister, Andrea. I reject it, but she calls again immediately. I reject that too, unable to deal with the same question she will inevitably ask.
I know she wants me to visit the farm, but the longer I leave it, the harder it is to go back.
‘Everything okay?’ Victoria hovers next to me, a glass of white wine in her hand.
