“Okay, we definitely had a fight.” He holds his hands up in defence about whatever he sees in my face. “He said some truly shitty things and I’d had enough after—” His voice trails off.

“After what?” I ask.

“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters. I reach out and pinch his arm, and he huffs. “Okay, he stood back and let you fall. I can’t and won’t ever forgive that, Charlie.”

I know instantly what he’s saying, and I can’t stop my flinch. He looks both enraged and worried.

“Bastard saw you going and didn’t stop you. That was it for me.”

It would be. Misha doesn’t let many people in, but the ones he does he’s fiercely protective over.

“What happened after the fight?” I say in a noncommittal sort of voice.

He shrugs. “I gave him his case.” I raise my eyebrow, and he flushes. “Okay, I threw the case at him. He said something shitty, so I then threw myself at him. We rolled around in an aggressive and highly unsexual way, and he got a few punches in. I, of course, got a lot more in.”

I roll my eyes. “What else? I know there’s something else.” He mutters something, and I stare at him. “I’m sorry. I could have sworn that you just said you’d packed Harry in for me, which can’t possibly be true because we’re not fourteen and at the school disco.”

He flushes and shrugs awkwardly before sending me a pleading glance. “Don’t get mad at me,” he says entreatingly. I gesture sternly, and he continues. “I just told him to fuck off and that he couldn’t see you last night.” He grimaces. “And then I sort of told him that as far as I was concerned, he was finished with you.” He takes a breath and blurts, “And then he sort of agreed with me and I told him he could contact you at some point.”

“You told him when he could talk to me?” I say faintly. “It’s like being friends with Nicholas the Great.”

He holds his hand up, and the stern look on his face stops my proposed speech about having the freedom to make my own decisions. “He’s no good for you, Charlie. If you’d heard the way he spoke about you, you’d see that.”

“How did he speak?”

“You don’t need to know. Just be aware that I punched him in the face for it. I’m sorry I went over your head,” he continues, a stubborn expression on his face. “And I’m aware that you might fall out with me and not speak to me again, but it’s worth it to know I told you the truth.”

I consider him for a long second. “It was pointless anyway because I finished it with Harry last night.”

He jerks. “What?”