A resounding slap around the face stopped him in his tracks.

‘What the fuck do you think you are doing?’

‘Oh, come on, Jen, you know you want it …’ Ben started, then stopped as he saw the look of abject contempt on her face. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. Just as he thought things couldn’t get any worse, he felt himself being picked up by the scruff of his neck, as effortlessly as if he were a kitten. He looked up to see an enormous black man, whose arms had to be bigger than Ben’s thighs. He was pure, scary beefcake. The fact that his eyes were completely obscured by wraparound shades made him even scarier.

‘You OK, Jenny?’ (Jenny? What the fuck?) asked the giant, in a voice so deep it made Barry White sound like a choirboy.

‘Sure, Mel. Thanks, honey,’ said Jennifer. She stood up to put her arms around the man, who was so not the Mel that Ben had envisaged, and then got on tiptoes to kiss him on the lips.

Ben’s legs felt like jelly, and he stumbled.

‘I think I may have read things wrong …’ he started, trying, as ever, to charm his way out of a tricky situation. To his own ears he sounded like a pathetic imitation of Hugh Grant in bumbling-fop mode.

Mel laughed condescendingly and patted him on the head.

‘Oh, yeah. Real wrong, boy. Tell you what, you just run along now and we’ll talk no more about it. But you NEVER contact my Jenny again. OK, boy?’

Ben nodded, numbly.

‘Say, “OK, Melvin”.’

‘OK, Melvin.’

Ben looked back once more, trying to decide whether to say something else. Then he ran out of the overheated gym as quickly as he possibly could. With every muscle on fire, and his tail firmly between his legs, it was easier said than done.

Chapter 8

Bella looked in the mirror inside her cupboard door with satisfaction. She wasn’t always pleased with her appearance, but today she knew she’d scrubbed up well. She was wearing a short, sleeveless polo dress from American Apparel in a bright sherbet-pink that complemented her light tan and dark hair perfectly. Just a touch of make-up – concealer, mascara, pink blusher and lip gloss – kept the look clean and pretty, and she’d played up the wholesome, preppy thing by tying her hair back into a loose plait.

She did a little twirl then poured herself a glass of white wine and went to sit on her balcony while she waited for Andy to come back from his chores. It was Saturday lunchtime and at last the English summer had come into its own. With a blissfully free agenda, Andy and Bella had decided to make the most of the sunshine and go for a picnic in Hyde Park, just the two of them. Bella couldn’t think of a lovelier way to spend a day.

‘Belles! I’m home!’ As ever, Bella’s heart leapt at the sound of his dear deep voice. She put her wineglass down and raced back into the flat to give him a hug. But something in his dark, bespectacled eyes stopped her in her tracks.