“If you ever threaten to bad-mouth Charlie again, I will rip out your tongue and insert it up your arse,” I say through gritted teeth. “Thereby confirming everyone’s opinion of where you talk from. You leave him alone from now on.”

He shoves me off and we fall apart, staring at each other in a corridor filled with the sounds of our panting breaths.

He looks at the knickers lying on the floor by my hand, and a smirk crosses his face. “Pick them up, Misha. You might be able to keep them. Pity you can’t do the same for Charlie.”

He just has time to look alarmed before I fling myself on him, and the fight starts again.

A few minutes later, he squirms under me as I sit on him. “Okay,” he hisses. “Jesus Christ, okay, I promise I won’t say a fucking word about Charlie ever again.”

“You’d better not,” I mutter, but I let go of him and sit back.

He pulls himself up and scrambles back until he’s sitting propped up against the opposite wall. We stare at each other.

“Charlie’s too good for you,” I say coldly and clearly.

“I didn’t sign up for all of the epilepsy stuff,” he says defensively. “It’s not just me. Other men would find it hard to deal with too.”

“You have the emotional depth of a spit ball,” I say scornfully.

“Oh, and you’re so perfect, Misha,” he sneers. “You always do the right thing. Everyone loves you at work.”

“It’s not a popularity contest.”

“Says someone who’s already won. According to everyone, you’re handsome and funny.” He looks at me dismissively. “No one seems to see the fucking arrogance.”

“Pot and fucking kettle, mate.”

He shakes his head. “I got him only to find that he was yours all the time and the two of you were both too stupid to realise it.”

“Charlie’s not a prize in the grabber at a fair. Maybe if you hadn’t acted like he was, you’d have stood a better chance.”

Silence descends, and then he sighs and scrapes his hair back. “I should have caught him tonight though.”

Rage sears me at the image of Charlie falling towards him, so vulnerable. All Harry had to do was put out his hands, but he stepped back. I look at him and don’t even bother hiding my disgust.

“Yes, you fucking should have,” I say evenly. “As far as I’m concerned, your relationship with him is done, but I don’t have the final say. It’s up to Charlie.”

He gives a humourless sort of laugh. “Keep saying it, Misha. Maybe you’ll even convince someone.”

“I just have to convince him,” I say silkily. “And that shouldn’t be very hard to do.”