My heart stops and my vision blurs as I aimlessly rifle through a pile of paperwork I’ve already looked at.

I picture Leon letting himself into what he thinks is an empty flat, only to be confronted by Jacob’s belongings, or worse, Jacob himself. I have to stop him from going, or else come clean and tell the truth. But I don’t even know where to begin.

I try to convince myself that he’ll be happy I’ve used my own initiative; be glad of the extra money that will be coming in every month, but if I truly believed that, I would have told him by now, wouldn’t I?

‘I . . . I . . .’ I stutter, as he looks at me expectantly.

‘What?’ he asks, with raised eyebrows.

‘I’ll go and take a look,’ I say quickly. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate. I’ll start making a list of what needs doing, then we can take a look together, once you’ve got the concert out of the way.’

‘Is your client still looking for somewhere to live?’ he asks.

‘Maybe,’ I say, looking anywhere but at him. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Is it the guy who was here this morning?’

Heat travels up my neck; I can only hope and pray it’s not leaving its mark on my skin.

‘Yes,’ I say, my voice sounding more high-pitched than normal, or maybe that’s just my imagination.

‘You seemed nervous around him.’

I instinctively tighten my ponytail and brush imaginary hair away from my eyes, in a pathetic attempt to divert Leon’s attention, though by the intense look on his face, I’ve done the exact opposite.

‘Are you OK?’ he asks, coming towards me. ‘Is this guy a problem?’ He takes hold of my elbows and looks into my eyes. He may as well be staring into my soul.

‘Of course not,’ I say, shrugging him off.

‘So what was the deal this morning then?’ he asks, following me to the sink. ‘Neither of you could look me in the eye.’

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ I say, forcing a laugh.

‘Am I?’ he asks. ‘Because to me, it felt like I was interrupting something.’

‘What, just because it was a man?’

‘No, because of the way he looked at you.’

There’s nothing I can do to stop my cheeks from blushing and the more I try, the hotter they burn.

I can’t deny that it feels as if Jacob and I have crossed an invisible line; the one that makes you feel as if it’s just a matter of time before it’s either re-drawn or erased altogether.

‘He’s a client, who happens to be vulnerable right now,’ I say. ‘He’ll anchor himself to anyone or anything that gives him stability.’

‘And that’s you, is it?’