He turned the dial on the shower, making the water so hot it seemed to sizzle the skin on his hand before stripping off and stepping inside. He hissed as he pulled the glass shower door closed, his skin stinging under the hot spray. He left the temperature alone, desperate to cleanse himself thoroughly and to force himself to forget the awful thoughts of Cynthia's hatred for him. His stomach flipped over and over again and he was sure he was going to vomit. He was fighting the urge to do so when Cynthia entered the bathroom.
“Greg? Are you okay?”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just having a quick shower.”
He watched Cynthia approach from the other side of the glass, her face distorted by the pattern on the shower door.
“Oh good. You all but ran out of the kitchen. I thought the enchiladas hadn't agreed with you.”
“No,” he replied weakly, “I'm fine.”
His stomach flipped again as he watched Cynthia take her pink sweatshirt off. She dropped the discarded clothing to the floor and stood motionless. “Is there room for one more in there?”
Greg's heart slammed in his chest. How was he going to perform in his condition? Cynthia would know there was something wrong and would immediately assume he found fault with her.
“Greg?”
“Come on in, sweetie.”
He pushed the shower door open then faced the strong spray of water, hoping to make Cynthia think he was trying to prevent the water spraying all over the floor. When she stepped inside after removing the rest of her clothes and closed the door, he knew he'd have to face her.
But he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to turn around and face her. His heart skipped a beat as Cynthia pressed her naked body against his back, her arms encircling his waist.
“Yikes!” she exclaimed, yanking her arms away. “How hot do you need that water?”
“I can't seem to get warm,” Greg mumbled, hating himself. “I'll turn the temperature down in a minute.”
Turn around and face her before she figures out that you're avoiding her.
He couldn't. He just couldn't bear another flood of those awful feelings that had assaulted him in the kitchen. Cynthia moved away from his and patted his bare ass. “I bet I can warm you up.”
Not terribly long ago those words, spoken in her sexy voice, would have sent heat rushing through his body and directly to his groin. But now he felt a mixture of revulsion and sadness. The sadness came from thoughts of a day to come when he'd never hear words like that from Cynthia; the revulsion came from his own despicable acts, both past and present.
How could he make love to his wife after everything he'd done to her? He heard the squeak from bottle of liquid soap seconds before Cynthia began to wash his back. Her hands glided over his skin firm enough to be relaxing, yet gentle enough to be sensual. Greg moaned and lowered his head as she rubbed his shoulders in a circular motion before gliding her hands down his sides. He moaned again as Cynthia pressed her naked body against his back. He reached behind and grabbed her ass, kneading her firm buttock in his hand as if it were a clump of clay to be moulded. She began rubbing the front of his thighs and his breath caught.
He trembled as her hands moved higher until she was rubbing the sides of his groin. His worries of being physically unable to perform became void as her touch sent the desired heat to the desired place. His erection pointed to the ceiling, seeking the comfort Cynthia's body offered. Suddenly, nothing else mattered in that moment except he and Cynthia, naked together in the shower.
Greg turned suddenly and kissed Cynthia deeply, her moan of excitement stoking his arousal. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as they kissed passionately. Greg pushed her backwards until her back pressed against the tile wall before grabbing her hands and and pressing them against the wall over her head. He writhed against her as they continued to kiss, the steam from the hot shower encircling them. Reaching down he pulled one of her legs up, which she immediately hooked over his hip. Bending his knees slightly, he pressed forward until the the tip of his penis prodded her wet centre. Cynthia threw her head back, moaning loudly as Greg began to kiss her neck. When he eased himself inside her, her moans became cries of pleasure as they moved together as one.
All thoughts of Ashley and Mike, deceit and treachery were chased away as he thrust into Cynthia, his own moans of pleasure mingling with hers.
For the first time in a long time, Greg felt truly content and happy. The feeling wouldn't last long, for the dread that Greg felt was coming.
Soon.
Chapter Eighteen
My Diary
I can't do this anymore. I'm tired and empty. It's time I face the facts: Greg doesn't want me. He's just another man who's used me for his own pleasure before walking away. I don't think he even cares about me in the slightest.
Why should he be able to live happily ever after with his wife whilst I remain alone? I want his wife to hate him like I do. I want her to kick him out of their happy home. I want to see him miserable and alone, the way he's left me.
Watching him at the park with her, walking hand in hand and smiling as they plan their future, I felt sick to my stomach. At this point I don't know whether I feel more pain or rage, it's like both emotions twist together and fill me with a darkness I just can't escape.
I've changed my mind. I no longer want Greg alone and heartbroken.
I want him dead.
He deserves to die for what he's done to me. Once he's dead maybe I'll be able to go on with my life. But before he dies, he must suffer.
And so must his wife.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day marked the beginning of the end for Greg. All his worries were realised, as if the power of his concerns had brought all his fears to life. This was unfortunate because that day started off well for Greg.
He awoke happy, his beautiful wife sleeping beside him and their lives together laid out in front of them.
He'd made a decision the night before after stumbling into bed with Cynthia, a decision that would end this nightmare. Though it wasn't a plan he was proud of, it was a plan he was sticking to. In the event of either Mike or Ashley revealing the affair, he would lie.
He'd realised the night before that no proof existed of his affair with Ashley existed. Mike had witnessed Greg having sex with Ashley, but Greg knew that Cynthia wouldn't believe Mike's word over his. Admitting Mike's intentions the night he and Greg met Cynthia, and Mike's subsequent bitterness towards Greg had helped lower her opinion of Mike considerably. When it came to Ashley, Greg intended to tie her in with Mike. He felt bad, but not bad enough to risk losing his wife. He was going to tell Cynthia that the rumour at work was Mike and Ashley were seeing each other. Once he tied the two together as lovers, he would tie the two together in deceit.
Greg entered work that morning happy and optimistic. He felt as though the emotional burden he'd been carrying for weeks was finally gone.
The feeling remained with him until lunch time and disappeared with Cynthia's hysterical phone call.
Greg had been sorting through a case file, adamant to finish the paperwork himself, anything to take his mind off his life. When his phone rang, he was grateful for the distraction.
“Hello. Greg speaking, may I help you?”
“Jesse! Someone's poisoned Jesse!”
Greg's stomach clenched as if he'd suddenly been dropped from a great height.
“What happened?” he blurted, jumping to his feet.
The response from Cynthia was muffled with gasps and sobs, but he heard something about pieces of meat thrown into their backyard, and something else, something that made his blood run cold.
Roses. A bunch of destroyed roses had been left on the doorstep. Ashley had done this.
“Babe, get her to the vet. I'm on my way.”
Greg hung up the phone and gathered his belongings before rushing from his office. Without stopping to explain his situation to any of his colleagues, Greg ignore
d all as he ran for the lift and jumped inside. He pounded the ground floor button with his thumb, grunting in exasperation as the doors shut so slowly. All the way down to the ground floor Greg thought of Jesse and Cynthia, Ashley and Mike. The roses were placed there to let him know she'd done this. She wanted Greg to know that she'd done this. She'd stepped up from mind games and moved on to harming. Though you could argue she'd harmed an animal, not a person, she must have known how much Cynthia loved Jesse to target her.
Now it was personal. She was targeting Cynthia.
His mind was in a fog as he rushed from his office building and into the car park, Greg didn't notice anything unusual about his parked car until he was a few feet away. That's when he spotted the crushed red rose laying on its side by the driver's door.
He stopped dead, his breath stuck in his throat.
“Dear God,” he muttered. “What the hell is she trying to do?”
In spite of his shock and disbelief at the events that were unfolding right in front of him, he couldn't stop the selfish voice inside his head that whispered through the fog that clouded his mind. Your plan is shot now. You can't tell Cynthia anything about Ashley or Mike.
Greg knew if Cynthia had a name, any name, she would probably end up in prison for the harm she'd do to that person for poisoning Jesse. Greg wished this was some kind of misunderstanding, that perhaps Jesse had eaten something that hadn't agreed with her and wasn't the target of the mentally deranged woman he'd had an affair with. But the roses proved this was the true cause of all that was happening. Greg had been concerned enough when Ashley had targeted him with her mind games, but now she was targeting Cynthia, and by doing so had put Greg into a corner.
Cynthia would have a hard time forgiving Greg for the affair, but she would never forgive him if she found out Jesse had been poisoned by the woman he'd had an affair specifically to hurt her. She would despise Greg with every bone in her body. He knew it was wrong to liken a dog to a child, but right now Jesse was the closest thing Cynthia had to a child, and she loved the dog so.
If Jesse dies...
Greg shook his head to snap himself out of it. He was still standing motionless beside his car, staring down at the ruined remains of the rose. With a growl of rage, he kicked the mutilated flower aside and climbed into his car. The vet's office wasn't very far away. The office car park exited onto a busy main road, but the traffic was lighter that it would have been around lunch or tea time. Greg was grateful for that at least.
Greg turned the key in the ignition and fired the car up a little harsher that he'd intended before speeding for the exit.
Easy. We don't need to add a car crash to the list of disasters. Greg pressed on the break pedal as he neared the car park exit.
Nothing happened. The car didn't slow down. Greg stomped on the break pedal, immediately panicked. He saw the car in front of him, hurtling closer. He grunted in panic as his foot stomped the break pedal over and over again. Now he was close enough to see the driver directly in front of him, the one he was going to hit within the next few seconds. She stared at his car as he approached, her expression of confusion turning to horror as she realised what was about to happen.
“Get out of the way!” Greg yelled, though there was nowhere for her to go and no way she could hear his panicked cry. He saw her duck down slightly in her seat and cover her head with her hands a second before he jerked the wheel to the right and yanked the hand-brake.
The sound of screeching tires was followed by metal crashing into metal and woman's piercing screams.
Chapter Twenty
Greg sat beside Cynthia on their sofa, his right arm around her as he stroked her back gently. Cynthia remained as rigid as a statue as she stared at the TV, her expression blank. She'd had a hell of a day. She'd been at the vet clinic with Jesse when Greg had called to tell her about his accident. Thankfully, neither Greg nor anyone else had been seriously harmed. After a quick check-up in the ambulance after Greg had refused to go to hospital confirmed Greg had only minor injuries, he'd been allowed to leave. He'd talked to the police and explained how his breaks had completely failed.
By the time he'd finished with the paramedics and the police, Cynthia had left the clinic and gone home as Greg had told her to. He didn't want her there after the trauma of rushing Jesse to the clinic. Turning down a ride from the police officer, Greg took a taxi home.
For the next hour or so, he'd consoled Cynthia. After his reassurances that he was fine, Cynthia told him that Jesse had indeed been intentionally poisoned. She had taken a sample of the meat to the veterinary clinic and the vet suspected it was laced with rat poison. Jesse was quite ill but the vet expected a full recovery. Cynthia sobbed as she told Greg about the awful powder substance they'd poured down Jesse's throat to induce vomiting.
To the people who weren't keen on animals, Cynthia's tears would appear dramatic and unnecessary. Her body shook with the force of her sobs and each grief-racked sound uttered felt like a sword of guilt thrust right into Greg's heart.
He may not be the one who'd fed Jesse the poisoned meat, but the fault lay just as much in his lap as the cruel mind who'd physically done it.
If he hadn't gotten involved with Ashley, this wouldn't be happening to Cynthia now.
Greg knew he could minimise the blame―how was he to know that Ashley was insane―but if he'd kept his promise to forsake all others he wouldn't be suffering the wrath of the woman scorned right now.
“Come on, babe. I really do believe Jesse will be okay.”
“I know why you would say something like that, but how could you possibly know? Even the vet said the next 24-48 hours are crucial.”
“Remember when she was about four months old and she swallowed one of my socks? Remember how they had to rush her in for emergency surgery?”
Cynthia smiled slightly.
“She bounced back from that. And remember the time we searched every inch of that back garden looking for her favourite tennis ball and we thought it must have gone over the wall? What was it, the next day when we saw bits of it in her poop because she'd eaten the whole bloody thing?”
Cynthia actually chuckled, though tears still gathered in her eyes.
“And what meal did she steal that night? That takeaway we ordered of the hottest curry on the menu?”
“That would've been the night we tried the new Indian Takeaway in town.”
“See? And she didn't even have the decency to be sick after she stole the hottest curry on the menu. She just stared at us all night as if to let us know the next time we ordered from there she was in.”
Now Cynthia laughed and she leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I really believe that dog has a cast-iron stomach. Plus, the vet didn't think she'd eaten much of the poison. I think she'll be home counter-surfing before you know it.”
Cynthia raised her head and looked him in the eye.
And for a split second, he almost broke down and told her everything. Her eyes, still red and tear-filled held so much love and trust for him. He didn't deserve her love and trust. He didn't deserve her.
“Cynthia―“
“Thank you, Greg. I know you're not exactly Jesse's biggest fan. Thanks for understanding how important she is to me.”
Greg took a deep breath. This close. I was this close...
“It is strange without her.” And he wasn't lying, it was strange. Never would he ever thought there'd be a day he'd miss Jesse if she wasn't around. The way she jumped all over him when he came home, making that weird chuffing noise and getting her hairs all over his clothes was a cause for annoyance every single day. Yet, he'd actually missed her enthusiastic greeting tonight. The way she would rest her head on his foot to sleep when he was relaxing on the sofa always caused him to complain―she had the whole room to lay in, why did she have to lie on him? The way she would instantly wake from a deep sleep the moment he left the room and get up to follow him, even if just to accompany him to the
bathroom and back, would annoy the hell out of him. Yet, as he'd left the room earlier to pour himself and Cynthia a much needed glass of wine, he'd found himself missing the tap of her claws as she trundled along after him.
He'd never admit it to anyone, but he realised he was actually rather fond of Jesse and he no longer hoped she would pull through just for Cynthia's sake.
When the doorbell rang at 8.35pm, the silence that followed was deafening―no barking, no scrambling of claws on wood flooring, no chuffing noise. Greg left Cynthia on the sofa and answered the door, expecting see one of Cynthia's friends. Instead, he found two officers staring in at him.
“Mr Allen?” the younger officer asked. He had dark hair and a dark complexion with a body that indicated he worked out. The other officer was older but also in good shape physically.
“I'm detective Myers. This is detective Owens. May we come in?”
Greg gaped at them, his surprise mixed with dread. Why were they here? What had happened to warrant a visit to his home? He mentally shook himself. “Of course, officers. Come on in.”
He led both men to the living room. Cynthia stood quickly, her eyes wide with shock. “What is it? Is this about Jesse?”
Greg knew the two officers wouldn't be making a house-call this late over a dog. Instead, he feared Ashley had done something and left a trail leading back to him. If Cynthia found out about the affair from two officers...
“Jesse?” The younger officer asked. “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”
“Our dog was intentionally poisoned this afternoon,” Greg said nervously. “Poisoned meat was thrown into our back-yard.”
“Has the dog since deceased?” the older officer asked.
A Deadly Affair—The Femme Fatale Series Page 11
