‘Are you jealous?’ I teased, leaning back in my chair and pretending to examine a nail.

He grinned. ‘Of course. I’m ragingly, furiously jealous!’

I laughed. ‘Good.’

‘You know,’ he began, making tiny circles on the desk with his fingernail. ‘If things had been different …’

‘Shhhh!’ I interrupted him sharply. ‘Don’t even go there.’ We both knew that he and I were about sex and nothing more. He would never have left his wife and I would never have wanted him to. I liked him but not that much. He was a bit of fun. Nothing more.

‘So did he ask you out?’

‘He did.’

‘And when are you seeing him?’ Marcus’s tone was back to playful and I was grateful that he wasn’t being possessive.

‘Tonight,’ I replied, mentally running through a checklist of preparations I needed to make.

‘Well,’ he said, standing up. ‘All I can say is, “lucky him”!’

Peter suggested we meet for dinner at a beautiful hotel restaurant not far from my office. He was waiting at a discreet table in the corner and stood up as I reached him, taking my hand and kissing me on both cheeks, so that I caught the scent of his beautiful cologne. I wasn’t the only one who had been busy making preparations.

‘Wow – great view,’ I said, gesturing towards the cityscape of London, laid out hundreds of metres below us.

Peter kept his eyes firmly fixed on me. ‘It certainly is.’

The waiter appeared with two glasses of champagne and placed them before us. I looked up and met Peter’s eye. ‘How do you know I drink?’

He tilted his head to one side in surprise. ‘Don’t you?’

I thought about lying, just to show that I was different from the others. But I was desperate for a drink. ‘Yes,’ I said, picking up my flute and reaching across to clink it with his. ‘I do. I’m just teasing you.’

Over dinner, we chatted non-stop, with almost every line of conversation loaded with hidden meaning and sexual inuendo. After coffee, Peter sat back in his chair and fixed me with what I would soon learn was his ‘come to bed’ expression. ‘So, beautiful Bella … how would you like this evening to end?’

I mirrored his actions and leaned back in my chair, too. ‘Have you booked a room?’

A flicker of uncertainty passed over Peter’s face and he hesitated before replying. ‘Should I have done?’

‘It’s not really a question of whether you should have done or not … it’s more a question of whether you did?’ I smiled to soften any sting from my words.

Again, Peter hesitated, before apparently reaching a decision. ‘Yes,’ he said, putting his napkin on the table and standing up. ‘Of course I did.’

I stood up, too, excitement rendering me momentarily weak-legged. ‘Of course you did.’

He reached out to take my hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world and we walked towards the lifts as if we were a proper couple. He didn’t seem at all concerned about being spotted with me, which was such an unusual experience that I felt nervous about sex for the first time ever. This man was already so different from anyone else I had had a relationship with that I wanted it to be special.