Melanie seemed impressed. She looked him directly in the eyes. ‘You really are a knight in shining armour, aren’t you, Donny?’

He was lapping up the words. Melanie moved closer, whispered in his ear. He could feel her breath hot on the side of his neck; it sent shivers down his spine. What was she playing at? He pulled away. Maybe the wine had gone straight to her head. His phone was ringing again, Susan’s name flashing across the screen. But there was no way he was answering the call now, no way in this world. She had a sixth sense for working out when he was around other women. Instead, Donny picked his drink up and took a large swig. He loved his wife and there was no chance he was jeopardising what he had at home for a quick knee-trembler with one of his staff in a pub toilet. Melanie couldn’t have made it more obvious; she was there for the taking if he wanted her. But he didn’t. Back in the day he wouldn’t have thought twice, but not now, he was a changed man.

Donny knew he needed out; he faked a yawn, stretched his arms above his head before glancing down at his watch. ‘I’d better be off. The missus will be home soon, and I want to have stuff sorted for her when she walks through the door, a nice warm bath, candles and that.’ There you go, the signals sent out loud and clear: he was not a cheater, he was a good husband. Susan was his soul mate and he had vowed he’d never do anything that would hurt her again. He’d learned his lesson. Sure, Melanie was sexy, and he was flattered, of course, but the snake was staying in the cage.

Melanie knew a knockback when she saw one. She threw back the rest of her drink, looked at the table, a bit embarrassed. ‘Don’t suppose you could drop me off at home, Donny?’ That was all he needed, he just wanted to be home now. But what could he say, he was the one that had offered in the first place. ‘OK. You ready?’

Melanie nodded, reached over to grab her handbag, giving Donny a look at her slim thighs in the process. She wasn’t making it easy for him. He stood up, anxious to get going. Note to self, do not take Melanie for a drink again. She was clearly a woman who knew what she wanted.

It was already dark as Donny drove down the dimly lit side street, unaware of the black car that had been trailing him – always at a safe distance – since he left the pub. Melanie was applying lipstick using a mirror she’d fished out of her bag. It was like she was going for a night out, rather than heading home.

‘What number?’