When Priest finally opened his front door it was close to two in the morning. He’d managed to swing by the Bodrum and pick up a kebab filled with week-old salad. It was sitting at the top of his stomach, refusing to digest. He would have given his right arm to fall into bed with Jessica and feel the warmth of her body next to his. They had made love twice, but never slept together. He wanted more, he realised. Even at two in the morning with a thumping headache and exhaustion overcoming him, he wanted more.

He was disappointed. More than that, infuriated, because what he got was not Jessica but, judging by the coat slung on his kitchen chair, Elinor. It took him a moment to react. How did she get in? Realising the answer, he checked the inside cupboard where he kept the mugs and glasses. There was a key rack nailed to the cupboard door. He sifted through the keys but already knew the spare front door key would be missing.

He would call a locksmith first thing in the morning. And apply for a restraining order.

He crept through from the kitchen and pushed the door of his bedroom open. The shape of a woman filled his bed, covers pulled tightly over her, looking for all the world like she had slept there her whole life.

Fuck off, Goldilocks.

Priest closed the door, careful to not make any sound, and padded off to the spare room.

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Priest woke to the sensation of someone sitting on him.

He was in the spare bed, the duvet barely covering him and the pillows were bare and cold. He was on his back, with a weight across his midriff. He opened his eyes, knowing with dread what was coming.

Elinor Fox smiled at him and he had to admit to himself that she was attractive, with elfin features and silky hair. An old man’s dream. She was wearing one of his shirts again, the top three buttons were undone. No bra, her bare chest was tanned, her neck was long, and swan-like.

‘Oh, Christ,’ Priest complained.

‘Nearly,’ she said with a wink. ‘Like a female version, I guess. Sleep well? You didn’t come to bed last night.’

‘I found it occupied.’

Elinor’s smile faltered, her eyes fluttered. She ran a finger over Priest’s chest while biting her lip. It was all a big act – a big, pathetic act. Priest suppressed the urge to throw her off and swallowed back the anger.

Christ, how old was she? Late twenties, if that?

‘I don’t get you,’ she said, watching her finger swirl over the duvet. ‘You give yourself to me, quite willingly, and now it’s like we never did it at all. I’m beginning to think I imagined the whole thing.’

Funny, that’s what I was beginning to think, too.