“Ashley,” Greg said, not too loudly but loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. “We need to talk.”
Silence answered him. She either wasn't home or was ignoring him. To the side of the front door was a living room; Greg could just make out the top of the TV through the window. He stepped forward and stooped over, pressing his face against the window.
It was indeed a living room. A large corner sofa sat at the opposite end of the room covered with a large purple throw and pale purple cushions. The room was neat and tidy except for a few magazines strewn across the coffee table. Had Ashley been relaxing on the sofa, reading her magazines before he'd rung the bell? Had she flung the throw aside and left the room, hiding somewhere in her apartment to avoid seeing him?
Leaning closer, Greg strained to hear any noises from within the apartment: a radio, another TV, anything. Hearing nothing, Greg moved along the length of the windowsill and kept his eye on the living room doorway. Perhaps Ashley was hovering just beyond it waiting for him to leave. Greg reached the opposite end and strained his eyes. It was no good. If he could just move a little further ―
“May I help you?”
Greg startled so hard at the unexpected voice he jerked upright and gasped, turning his head towards the voice. An older woman stood glaring at him, two shopping bags clutched in her pudgy hands. It appeared she'd been about to enter the apartment building when she'd seen Greg looking into Ashley's window. The woman's eyebrows raised in suspicion as Greg hastily smiled and stumbled away from the window.
“No thanks. I was just checking on a colleague who called in sick to work today. But she doesn't appear to be in.”
The woman regarded him suspiciously, running her eyes up and down him once, twice, before settling on his eyes. Her large shoulders relaxed slightly, though she remained guarded.
“You work with Ashley?”
Greg nodded his head a little too enthusiastically. “Yes. Miss Lane filed some papers for me last week, but I'm afraid there was a little mix-up. I was hoping she'd be able to shed some light on the issue.”
The woman nodded and her facial expression softened. “Well, perhaps you ought to call her on the phone instead of peering in through her window.”
Get lost, you nosy old bag.
Greg summoned up his warmest fake smile. “I'll do that. Thank you.”
The woman put her broad back to him and approached the apartment block's main doors, so Greg turned away and walked back towards his car. That was close. What a great ending to the day ― arrested on suspicion of burglary.
“Excuse me?” the woman suddenly called.
Greg thought about ignoring her, but decided it would make her even more suspicious. There was no one else around, so she'd know he would assume she was talking to him. He turned and found her half inside the apartment block entrance, her plump body holding the door open.
“Whom shall I say was calling when I see Ashley?”
In other words, she was going to tell Ashley about the man she'd caught peering into her window. Greg thought fast. He didn't want Ashley to know he'd been there snooping around. “Could you tell her it was Dave from the third floor? Thank you so much.”
Before she could reply, Greg hurried into his car, started the engine and drove away. The woman had remained where she was, watching his car until it disappeared. Once inside her own apartment, she quickly wrote down the car's license plate number.
Just in case.
Chapter Sixteen
Mike paced around his small kitchen, curse words flying from his lips. Ashley had called in sick today; Greg had left work early. Obviously he was spending time with Ashley.
Mike pictured Greg and Ashley, making love passionately. He pictured Greg dressing afterwards then heading home ― to Cynthia. Mike's blood boiled. He could almost taste the jealousy.
He retrieved his mobile phone from his briefcase and watched the video he'd shot, the video of Greg and Ashley leaving the Anderson house. When the clip ended, he watched it again, then again, and again, assuring himself that the video proved Greg's infidelity beyond all doubt. The email symbol hovered in the top right corner of the video clip, perfectly positioned for the ease of sharing videos and images by email and social media.
He could do it. Right now. He could send this clip to Cynthia right now and put an end to this. With a few clicks of a button he could end Greg's marriage and free up Cynthia. The course of Greg's life rested in his hands.
Mike pressed the email icon. The video attached itself to the email. All he had to do now was type in Cynthia's email address. As he began to do this however, a warning message flashed on his phone. The file was too big to send by email. Enraged, Mike slammed his phone down onto the kitchen counter.
It was just as well. Cynthia had him on a list of contacts. She'd know he was the one who sent the video. With a growl of frustration Mike slammed his fists onto his kitchen counter, once, twice, three times. He needed to get close to Cynthia before she found out about Greg's affair. If she saw the video now he'd blow himself out of the water along with Greg.
He was just so angry. He slammed his fist against the kitchen counter again and cursed. Bastard! Who does he think he is?
Just calm down and think.
But Mike couldn't think straight because every time he tried he saw Greg with Ashley, Greg with Cynthia, Ashley, Cynthia, Ashley...
Furious, Mike stood and began to pace, fearing his temper would get the best of him and he'd hit something hard enough to break his hand. Think. There's got to be a way to get Greg out of the way whilst getting closer to Cynthia.
Mike stopped abruptly.
If Greg was with Ashley now, that would mean Cynthia's home alone, waiting for him. He'd be willing to bet the excuse he'd given for his absence will be work-related. A eureka moment settled over Mike. What if I go to the house, looking for Greg. Cynthia will say, 'sorry, he's not here, he's working late,' and I say, 'really? I just came from the office and he isn't there.'
Mike grinned. Oh that would be so perfect. Plant the seed of doubt and watch it grow. Of course, Greg may be at home. Maybe he was already home after enjoying Ashley's company.
Mike felt the loss as his plan fell apart. He quickly grabbed his car keys and left his apartment, hoping, praying, that his opportunity was finally here. On the drive over to Greg and Cynthia's, Mike thought back to the night he and Greg met Cynthia.
She'd been sitting with three other women that night. Immediately, Cynthia was the one who'd caught his eye but following his tried-and-true methods, Mike had struck up a conversation with the least attractive member of the foursome. As usual, she was receptive to Mike's charm and he'd scored an invitation to their table. As usual, Greg had sat quietly, only speaking when spoken to and looking as uncomfortable as a priest in a strip joint. In fact, when Mike told him they were joining the ladies at their table, Greg had actually gone a little pale.
Mike's plan was simple: as soon as they reach the ladies table, move away from the ugly woman he'd been working on and sit beside Cynthia. The problem was, the ugly woman hadn't been easy to shake off. Mike and ended up beside her and the third woman. Greg had sat beside Cynthia.
After an uncomfortable 10 minutes or so Greg had loosened up, chatting to Cynthia about where they worked. Pretty soon Greg and Cynthia chatted away as if they sat alone at the table, seemingly oblivious of everything around them.
Mike had become more and more annoyed.
This isn't the way it worked. Whatever woman he targeted, he got. Single women, married women, even a self-proclaimed lesbian once, all had been seduced by his charm. Getting women was his thing, it was who he was. And he considered himself very good at it. But on that night, the woman he'd targeted had chosen Greg over him. And if that wasn't humiliating enough, she had chosen Greg to settle down with, marry, possibly have children.
Mike had never considered himself as the marrying type, hell, he'd never been faithful to a woman in his life. Bu
t perhaps Cynthia could have changed him, made him the kind of man he'd always scoffed at. The more he'd come to know Cynthia, the more sure he'd become that she was the one woman capable of turning him to a faithful husband. He didn't know what it was about her that made her so different to other women. She had a quality that was difficult to describe, difficult to understand. Mike was determined to get Greg out of the picture. He knew that Cynthia would probably feel rather hurt, but that's where he'd sweep in as the trusted friend. There was a chance that Cynthia would reject his advances, but in Mike's experience vulnerable women were the easiest to crack. A combination of pain, rage, and the need to get even can drive a woman into another man's bed quicker than wining and dining.
Mike's heartbeat quickened as he turned onto Greg and Cynthia's Street. He could clearly see that only one car sat on the driveway. He could also see the colour of the car. Red. That was Cynthia's car.
Greg wasn't home.
This was it. His moment was here. I'll have to play it cool. If I screw this up I'll blow my chances. He parked in front of Cynthia's house, making sure to block the driveway. He wanted Greg to see his car and panic. If he rattled Greg enough, he may start making mistakes. Mike planned to plant the seed of suspicion tonight. He wanted Greg to help it grow.
As Mike was getting out of his car he suddenly hesitated.
An excuse.
Greg would know immediately what might was doing at his house, but he needed a good excuse for Cynthia, one that would pass as important enough to warrant the sudden visit to the house.
Think. Think. Think.
It couldn't be a work-related reason. Cynthia would be suspicious of that for many reasons. Shit. Why didn't I think this through properly?
Wait. How about a woman problem?
Mike pondered the idea. That could work. Maybe I could make out that I'm broken up about a woman.
Mike smiled. Perfect. This way I can show Cynthia side of me she's never seen. I can show her the sensitive Mike who is ready for love.
Mike walked slowly to Greg and Cynthia's front door, battling with his own excitement. He had to put on a good show. If Cynthia sensed any attempt to manipulate her with lies of a broken heart it would further her opinion that he was nothing but a player. Mike rang the doorbell and shifted from one foot to the other. His heartbeat quickened when he heard Cynthia's voice from the other side of the door. Even though she was scolding Jesse, her voice sent delicious chills through his body.
Arranging his facial features and body language carefully, he looked down at his feet as the door opened.
“Hey, Mike,” Cynthia said cheerfully.
Mike gave her a strained smile. “Hey, Cynthia. Is Greg here?”
Cynthia frowned at him in confusion then glanced down at Jesse by her side. The big dog strained to reach Mike, her tail wagging maniacally as she made that weird coughing noise. Mike allowed his eyes to travel the length of Cynthia's body as she wrestled with Jesse, her grip on the dog's collar tightening in response to Jesse's struggles.
Though Cynthia wore a pink tracksuit, fluffy black socks, and an apron tied around her waist, she was still as stunning to Mike as she had been the first night he'd spotted her in the bar. Her long dark hair was tied up in a pony tail with dark wisps of loose hair framing her face. As usual she wore little make-up.
“Jesse! Stop that,” she scolded. Jesse ignored the order and continued to struggle. “Do you want to come in?” Cynthia asked breathlessly.
“Well... “Mike said, trying to appear uncomfortable.
“Let me rephrase that―please come in,” she said, grinning.
Mike smiled and stepped inside the threshold as Cynthia pulled Jesse backwards.
I'm in.
“Am I okay to let her go?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes, of course.”
The moment Cynthia released her collar, Jesse rushed at Mike wagging her tail and licking his hands. He allowed her to do so as he greeted her by name. He despised dogs and everything about them, but for reasons beyond him Cynthia loved the beast so he needed to be polite. “So, is Greg here?” Mike asked as Jesse eventually turned away from him.
Cynthia frowned at him. “No, he's still at the office according to the phone call he made to me about half an hour ago.”
Mike was only vaguely aware of Jesse trotting off down the hallway and towards the kitchen as he glowed inside. “Really? Because I left the office about 10 minutes ago and he wasn't there.”
Cynthia's frown deepened and her gaze slid sideways, as if pondering possible explanations for this rather confusing information.
Just stand back and watch it grow.
Mike tried to appear embarrassed and uneasy. “Maybe he's working in another department, or something.”
“Maybe.”
For just a second, Cynthia's face clouded and her eyes darkened. She glared into space as her body stiffened, air hissing in and out of her nostrils. And for just a split second, Mike was alarmed. It appeared that Cynthia may have a bit of a temper. Then she looked Mike in the eyes.
“The chicken!”
“Excuse me?”
“I've left the chicken on the counter in the kitchen!”
Cynthia whirled away from him and hurried up the hallway. He rushed after her, confused. What the hell did chicken have to do with anything?
As they both entered the kitchen, Cynthia cried out, “aha!” Mike immediately understood her sudden concern for chicken when he spotted Jesse standing on her hind legs, her front paws planted firmly on the counter-top and her shiny black nose inches away from a baking tray containing cooked chicken breasts.
“Get down, you naughty girl!”
Cynthia marched over to where Jesse stood, who now regarded Cynthia rather sheepishly. She tugged hard on Jesse's collar and pulled her down from the counter. “Just where are your manners, lady?”
Though Cynthia was beautiful and sexy, smart and sophisticated, and made him want her more than he'd wanted any other woman, the way she spoke to the dog irritated Mike to no end.
“You should look guilty, too. That's a very naughty Jesse. Very bad girl.”
Cynthia put on a purple oven glove and picked up the baking tray, moving it farther back and out of Jesse's reach should she jump up again. Mike bit his lip to refrain from speaking his mind and watched Jesse. She didn't look guilty to him, she looked pissed off. She'd been busted before she could steal the food. She wasn't sorry and she wasn't feeling guilty because she's a dog, and dogs are incapable of feeling human emotions.
“Sorry about that,” Cynthia said, turning to face him. “It's the one bad habit of hers that I'm struggling to break.”
“She's cute, though,” Mike forced himself to say.
“But she's a naughty counter-surfer,” Cynthia said sternly.
Realising the comment was aimed at her, or perhaps recognising the word 'naughty', Jesse lowered her head and slowly laid down.
“She has a bottomless stomach,” Cynthia said as she washed her hands. “And she'll eat anything.”
Mike nodded as though interested. He'd made this visit for a very important purpose and that didn't involve discussing the stupid dog's stomach. He pondered the best way to bring up Greg's lie about working late without making his intent to cause trouble obvious. Cynthia asked him if he'd like a coffee and he accepted, watching her the entire time. If all went to plan, she'd better get used to making his coffee. And his meals. And sharing his bed. He was still working on the best way to bring Greg up when Cynthia suddenly gave him an opening.
“Would you like to stay for dinner? I'm sure Greg won't be much longer. I'm making enchiladas.”
Mike hated enchiladas, but forced a grateful smile. “Are you sure I'm not imposing?”
Cynthia smiled and blew a wisp of dark hair from her eyes. “Of course not. I always make extra chicken, but since someone's been naughty she won't be getting hers.”
Jesse whined but didn't raise her head.
Once I'm
in, that dog is out.
“So I'm getting the dog's dinner?” Mike joked.
Cynthia laughed. “Well in a sense, yes.” He laughed with her, though he was far from amused.
“Thanks for the offer. I'd love to stay.”
Cynthia nodded and turned away, busying herself with making coffee and preparing the enchilada mix so Mike took a seat at the kitchen table. “It's really strange that I didn't see Greg at the office. I came here to speak to him about something.”
“Oh, he'll be there somewhere. Probably working in another department like you said.” Cynthia spoke with complete confidence and trust in Greg, unconcerned about the possibility of deceit. It pissed him off.
“I can't think why he'd need to be on another department, though.”
Cynthia shrugged. “I won't even pretend to know anything about selling houses. I arrange flowers. That's the limit of my knowledge.”
“I could have sworn the office was empty when I left.” Mike knew he was pushing it, but she was making this so difficult. She obviously trusted Greg completely and was unperturbed by the fact that Greg wasn't where he was supposed to be. Short of actually telling her about Greg and Ashley's affair, Mike couldn't think of anything more he could do right now.
“So. Not to be nosy or anything, but what do you need Greg for? I think you've only been to our house once before.”
Now for part two of the plan.
“It's actually a bit embarrassing,” Mike said sheepishly. “I'm having an issue with a woman. I thought Greg might be the best person to speak to.”
Cynthia whirled around, her eyebrows raised and her eyes wide. “You're having woman problems? Woman as in singular? Just one woman?”
Mike nodded, smiling to hide his annoyance. He had his work cut out for him here. Cynthia believed he was a true womaniser. How was he going to convince her to trust anything he said?
“What happened? Did she find out about all the others?” Cynthia laughed and Mike chuckled. Though her attitude was annoying him more with every word spoken, he had to admit ; she knew him well. “Actually, it is just one woman, one woman that I really like. She didn't tell me she's married.”
A Deadly Affair—The Femme Fatale Series Page 9