by Elle Croft
The Guilty Wife
ELLE CROFT
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Epilogue
The Other Sister Extract
Acknowledgements
Author Biography
Copyright
Prologue
A helicopter pilot.
If you’d asked me what I was going to be when I grew up, back when I was a round-faced teenager, that would have been my answer. No hesitation. I knew I was born to fly, right up until the first time I boarded a plane and my family holiday was cut short by an unexpectedly crippling panic attack. I’ve never managed to shake that terror, and I haven’t boarded an aircraft since.
But that fear, the lung-crushing, paralysing dread I ex-perienced so long ago in my cramped window seat was nothing compared to this.
What I feel now is beyond panic.
Because … someone knows.
My secrets are in their hands. Hands that were, just days ago, soaked in the blood of a man it should have been impossible to harm. Hands that could tear me apart just as effortlessly.
I suspect that they’re enjoying this too much to kill me, though. For now, at least. They’ll toy with me first, destroy everything I have.
Ruin me.
But before my dirty laundry is thrown out in a heap to be picked through and scrutinised, I feel like I should open the windows and let some fresh air diffuse a bit of truth into my situation.
I am not guilty.
But even I can admit that doesn’t make me innocent.
Chapter One
‘This is how Monday evenings should always look,’ Calum announced, reminding me how different the world appeared to someone with no financial limitations.
I smiled and rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help agreeing with him.
I was wrapped in my thickest scarf, the lingering warmth of the day not quite defending itself against the chill that cut through the evening air. We’d spent the last moments of sunshine basking on Calum’s terrace and drinking in the view of London that spread out before us. When I turned my head I could see the top of Big Ben, his famous face peeking out across the tree line, surveying his city as it came alive in the unseasonal warmth. I’d suggested a walk, but Calum had shaken his head. No public outings; one of his many precautions. Instead, he had grabbed me by the hips and lifted me high, a figure-skater move that had elicited a squeal of surprise, and when he’d thrown me on his bed all thoughts of a walk had been swiftly forgotten.
Now he was running his thumb lightly across the back of my hand, watching with amusement as two sparrows bravely took it in turns to hop closer and closer to our table, daring one another to steal stray crumbs.
I smiled contentedly as I took in Calum’s tousled hair and his shadow of dark stubble. He had the air of a man without a care or responsibility, not someone with an enormous company and a public persona to maintain. His forehead was for once uncreased by the frown that usually darkened his face and made his staff worry constantly that he was angry.
Noticing my gaze, he turned towards me, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Suddenly shy, I couldn’t stop the warmth that began creeping into my cheeks. I felt silly for reacting that way, but however much I promised myself I’d stay cool in his presence, there was nothing I could do to stop it.
‘You’re so cute when you blush,’ he said, and the heat spread to my chest.
‘Stop it,’ I pleaded. ‘You know that just makes it worse.’
He laughed, and pulled me onto his lap.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered in my ear.
‘Well, that doesn’t stop you from teasing me every time it happens.’
‘I can’t help it. You make it too easy.’
‘I wish you had some kind of flaw I could tease you about.’
‘It’s not a flaw,’ he said, kissing my cheek. ‘I think you look beautiful, even when you’re embarrassed. And trust me, I’m far from perfect. You just don’t see it yet.’
I laughed and leaned back, allowing myself to be lulled by the slow rise and fall of his chest. He ran his hand lightly up and down my back in a gentle rhythm as we stared at the park being drenched in the golden hue of a dying day.
‘Oh,’ I said suddenly. ‘I almost forgot.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Your present.’
‘Ah,’ he replied, raising an eyebrow.
I rummaged for a few seconds in my bag before handing Calum a tiny silver box tied with a blue ribbon.
‘Happy birthday,’ I said, kissing him lightly. ‘I’m sorry it’s so late, but … well, I haven’t really seen you—’
‘I totally understand,’ he interrupted. ‘Besides, I love an extended birthday.’
I watched him struggling with the knot I’d spent so long perfecting that afternoon, and mirrored his own mischievous smile when he lifted the lid.
He pulled the small black piece of plastic from its bed of tissue paper and leaned over to kiss me.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I love it.’
‘Well, you haven’t even seen what’s on it yet,’ I joked. ‘It might just be a memory card full of puppy pictures.’
‘I do love puppies. But probably not as much as I think I’ll love what’s on here.’
He kissed me again, but after a few seconds I pulled away.
‘Calum,’ I said, serious now, ‘I know we’ve already spoken about it, but you really have to make sure no one sees these. Please promise me.’
‘Bethany,’ he said, his tone gentle. ‘I would never show anyone, but are you sure you’re comfortable with this? I know it was my idea, and I also know it’s not the sort of thing you’d usually do – or the sort of thing I’d do, for that matter. So if you want me to get rid of it, we can just forget about the photos.’
The photos are the only gift I could possibly afford, I
thought. What do you get the man who, quite literally, has everything? A steamy photo shoot featuring the two of you, apparently.
I studied his face, trying to decide if he meant it, if he really would destroy the memory card just because I was uncomfortable. But it was so difficult to make rational decisions when his eyes were fixed on me. That gaze was completely disarming.
‘No, of course I don’t want you to get rid of it,’ I said eventually, meaning it. ‘It’s just not something I’ve ever done before. And anyway, I’m more confident being behind the lens, not in front of it.’
‘Well, I thought you made an excellent model. Have you considered a career change?’
‘I have, but I like burgers far too much.’
‘You could have fooled me. With a figure like that, I’d have thought you lived off lettuce.’
Calum got up and reached for my hand.
‘Come on.’
I laced my fingers through his and stood, following his lead towards the door. We walked in silence into his apartment, past the bed where the illicit photos had been taken and across the room to his desk, almost hidden in the furthest corner. He reached for a book on the second shelf and opened a drawer, which he rummaged through for a few seconds. He handed the book to me and I stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Not receiving one, I turned it over, then flipped through the pages. Nothing.
‘A business self-help book?’ I asked. ‘Am I missing something here?’
He smiled, taking the book from me, and flicking to the back cover.
‘Can you give me a piece of that please?’ he asked, passing me a roll of tape.
I complied, frowning in confusion.
He stuck the memory card to the rectangle of tape I’d given him and secured it to the inside of the book’s cover. Replacing it on the shelf with the rest of his serious non-fiction, he turned back to kiss me again. This time I kissed him back.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘No one but us will know it’s there.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered.
‘You’re welcome. And trust me. No one wants to keep our secret more than I do. Those photos are safe with me.’
Chapter Two
My husband reached for my hand as we stepped out of the Tube station and were greeted by the buzz of after-work revellers. Bars and pubs crawled with drinkers who had spilled onto the streets and lined the narrow pavements. There was a tangible excitement in the air, a ripple of electricity caused by the spurt of warm weather that had brought Londoners out in droves, despite it being a Tuesday night.
I felt a pull to join in the springtime festivities, to soak up the warmth of the evening, but instead, I took his hand and wrenched the heavy wooden door open. We blinked away the sunlight as our eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the restaurant.
I tried to stay focused on the conversations that unfolded during our meal, but I was relieved when we waved our friends goodnight and their cab turned the corner to disappear from sight.
Jason curled his arm around my waist and I leaned into him, glad that it was just the two of us again. He kissed the top of my head.
‘Home?’
‘Home,’ I said, smiling up at him.
This probably comes as a surprise, given what I’d been up to the previous afternoon, but Jason and I were, by all accounts, happily married.
I was in love with my husband. Always had been, really. Ever since the morning after I met him, in our first week of university. We’d been introduced at a party, the kind where there was lots of drinking, and lots of dancing. I’d foolishly worn a pair of brand-new heels, and by the end of the evening I was hobbling ungracefully on bleeding feet. The next morning when I dragged myself out of bed to take a shower, I tripped on a small blue box that was sitting in the hallway outside my door. Inside was a packet of blister plasters and a can of Coke, along with a note that said:
For your hangover. And your heels. I hope to see you again soon. J
We were official within days. He was my first serious boyfriend, and the only man I’d ever loved.
Until now.
Somehow, without meaning to, I’d found myself having an affair. An act of betrayal that I never imagined myself capable of. And to make matters even worse, the affair wasn’t just about the sex. I really cared for Calum.
I hadn’t fallen out of love with Jason. How could I? He was everything I could ask for in a husband. Supportive, handsome, loyal.
The opposite of me. I was a liar. A cheat. An adulterer.
And in love with two men at the same time.
Chapter Three
‘Here, try this.’
Calum reached across the counter, holding a spoon out towards me. I leaned over and took a sip of the sauce that he’d spent the past half-hour perfecting.
‘Wow,’ I exclaimed. ‘That tastes incredible.’
‘Didn’t I tell you I could cook?’
‘You did. And I’m truly sorry that I didn’t believe you.’
‘It’s OK,’ he said lightly. ‘For dessert I have a really nice slice of humble pie for you.’
I laughed and tried to flick him with the tea towel, but he moved away too quickly.
‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?’
‘You can sit right there and relax,’ he replied. ‘Dinner won’t be long.’
‘I think I can manage that,’ I said, closing my laptop. I’d been trying to review a week’s worth of photos since I’d arrived at Calum’s apartment for our meeting, but it was no use trying to concentrate when I was with him.
‘Actually, can you do me a quick favour?’ Calum asked.
‘Of course,’ I said.
‘It’s getting warm in here. Could you open the sliding doors? We can eat over by the lounge so it’s a bit cooler.’
A fresh spring breeze accompanied our meal, which was an impressive dish of lamb chops and fried potatoes, all perfectly cooked.
I had just mopped up the last of the sauce on my plate with a warm bread roll when Calum’s phone buzzed violently on the table. He snatched it up and I gathered the plates to take back to the kitchen.
I was scrubbing a frying pan, my arms covered in soap suds, when I felt Calum’s hands curling around my waist. I smiled.
‘Stay,’ he whispered into my ear.
My smile dissolved.
‘What?’
‘Don’t go home. Stay the night.’
I turned around to face him, expecting a playful wink, but he looked serious.
‘I … well, aside from a whole bunch of other obvious reasons why I shouldn’t, including how I’d explain it to Jason, what would you say to the security guys out there?’ I waved towards the door as I dried my hands, pan forgotten.
‘I can give them the night off,’ he said. ‘They’re not prison guards.’
‘OK, fine, but we’ve talked about this before,’ I said. ‘It’s one of your paranoid rules.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you it’s not paranoia, Bethany?’
I sighed, and walked back to the table to collect the salt and pepper grinders.
‘I get it. You feel bad about Kitty.’
I couldn’t help but frown as I thought about the woman Calum had been seeing before me.
‘I don’t just feel bad about Kitty,’ he said. ‘I will never, ever forgive myself for what happened to her. It was my fault that she was attacked. I was the one who insisted she told the police about the stalking, and the threats she was getting. I was trying to protect her. If anyone had told me then that the cops would be the ones to leak our affair to the press, I probably would have called them paranoid, too. But it’s not paranoia if it’s true. The police were the only ones who knew about us, and the day after we told them, she was all over the news. And then she was attacked, and her whole life was ruined. I wanted to help fix things, but she wanted nothing to do with me. She hates me, and I don’t blame her. Because all of it was my fault.’
His voice quavered, and I shifted m
y weight uneasily.
‘I have to deal with the guilt of knowing I caused that, but I couldn’t live with the responsibility of anything happening again. Not to you. All it takes is one news story for everything to go crazy, so please don’t call me paranoid again, OK? You don’t know what it’s like. This system I use? It’s for you. For your safety.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said gently. ‘I really am. I do understand, honestly, and I appreciate it. It’s just … frustrating sometimes.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I just don’t want you to lose sight of why we have to do things this way.’
‘I won’t. I promise. But I really can’t stay, as much as I’d love to. I have to go home to Jason. And besides, I thought you said Claire was back later.’
‘I thought she would be too, but she sent me a message,’ he said, reaching for his phone.
He tapped the screen a few times and then read, ‘“Won’t be home tonight, darling. Still with Red Ferrari.”’
‘She’s with a car?’
‘Not a car.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a nickname for the man she’s in California with; she doesn’t tell me their real names. Plausible deniability or something. Last month it was Guitarist Five. She has a thing for musicians, apparently.’
I blinked, trying to decide if he was playing with me, but there was no hint of a smile, no telling spark in his eye.
‘How can that not bother you, Calum? I mean, why do you even stay together when both of you are sleeping with other people? How can you call that a marriage?’
‘Judge much?’ he replied, his tone measured, a reined-in sort of anger. ‘What makes you so much better, when you’re sleeping with me? At least Claire and I have the decency not to pretend to be something we’re not.’
I mentally clutched for words.
‘Decency?’ I finally blurted out as he walked a few paces away. ‘That’s what you call it? So as long she tells you she’s cheating then it’s totally fine. And what about you? You’ve not told her about us, so how are you so superior?’
Calum turned around, his face steely. He moved towards me and stopped when our faces were too close, his expression making me squirm uncomfortably.
‘Bethany,’ he said slowly, looking me directly in the eye. ‘What Claire and I choose to do in our marriage is none of your business. She and I love each other, just not in a way that you find … palatable. We’ve found a way to make our marriage work for both of us, and just because it doesn’t fit into your little idea of what a relationship should be, you immediately get all self-righteous and judgy. Claire and I are honest with each other. We have an understanding. Boundaries. We’re open with each other and we’ve discussed the way we choose to operate our marriage in great detail. She doesn’t want to know if I’m sleeping with someone else, and I respect that.’