‘I mean, I only chose you in the first place to punish you. And because I thought you’d be useful for my career. So it’s not your place to end it, is it, babe?’

‘Chose me?’ My stomach rolled over again. ‘To punish me? For what?’

‘Yes, punish you, you stupid cow. For interfering.’ He turned round again, staring at me like I was a stranger in his home.

‘What are you talking about?’ I whispered urgently. ‘Interfering with what?’

‘And then – then there was just something about you.’ He was lost in his own reverie now. In the candlelight his dark eyes looked demonic. ‘But in the end you’re all the same. You tricked me, Maggie.’

‘You’ve lost me now, Sebastian,’ I pleaded, suppressing my terror almost physically, trying to shove it down. ‘I thought things were good between us, honestly. I never meant to – to trick you in any way, I swear.’

‘Didn’t you?’ he sneered. ‘My mother warned me about women like you. If things were so good, why didn’t you want to see me this weekend?’

I cast around frantically for something to bring him down a little, to bring him back to now.

‘Digby’ll be so pleased to see you,’ I said stupidly, and God I tried so hard to smile. ‘We both are, honestly. I’m really glad you’re here now. I was missing you.’

He stared at me blankly. ‘He wasn’t pleased. He wasn’t pleased at all, the little shit.’

His tone was utterly unnerving. I stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’ I whispered, my voice cracking in the darkness.

He smiled and it was a mad smile; a truly mad and malicious smile. My phone chirped then, and my fingers almost went to my pocket – but I just stopped myself in time.

‘Give me that,’ he demanded, holding out his hand.

I played dumb. ‘Sorry – what?’

‘The phone, you stupid bitch. I heard it beep. Give it to me.’

How could I have got it so terribly wrong? How could I have considered actually falling in love with this monster that stood before me? The candles flickered and danced above us on the ceiling as I pointed into the dark depths of the room.

‘It’s over there.’ I indicated the table piled up with cookbooks and photos and old folders of recipes my mother and Gar had collected. ‘I put it on to charge.’