‘What about what I might want?’

‘I think I know what you want.’

I took a long breath and tried to control the hammering of my heart.

‘Are you threatening me?’

‘I’m just saying – you can’t pretend it didn’t happen. That’s all. That’s the thought for the day. Is that what you’re trying to do, Tara – to pretend it didn’t happen? Sorry – I will not allow it.’

‘I would like you to leave now.’

He laughed.

‘Who’s going to throw me out? That fruit you have working on the front desk?’

‘Me,’ I said. ‘I’ll throw you out if I have to. You think I can’t do it?’

‘Oh, come on! I don’t want to argue.’

‘Then go.’

‘As you know, I live in Brighton but I stay at the Langham Hotel when I’m in London. Meet me there.’

‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘But I don’t want it to end.’

‘It never began, James. It really didn’t.’

There were tears in his eyes.

‘I have a life too,’ he said, nodding at the photographs on my desk. ‘Or I had a life. I had a wife. Lost her to breast cancer. Thirty-nine. Three years ago. Our daughter was thirteen. Can you imagine what that’s like? For her? For me?’

I let out a breath that was ragged and shaking.

‘Listen – you’re a good guy. That’s why we connected. That’s why …’

Why what, Tara?

‘You have to understand,’ I said, trying again to make him understand. ‘There’s just no room in my world for whatever you’re looking for. My life is already full. Sorry.’

He smiled, but there was something sour in it now, something toxic and twisted and with that hint of spite that I had felt in his bed.

‘So what was it then? Tell me that and I’ll be off and you never have to see me again. What was it? A bit of fun for a bored wife? A sexual thrill while you were away from home? A big mistake?’

‘Christ, I don’t know. Why does it matter? All of the above.’

‘Well.’ He sighed elaborately. ‘I can’t pretend I don’t feel a little used, Tara,’ he said, his mouth contorting with a spasm of spite.

‘And I can’t pretend I don’t feel a little scared, James. You have pictures of me on your phone. You turn up at my office uninvited.’

He smiled, pleased with himself now, gaining his confidence again. No, it was always more than confidence. James Caine was only sweetness and light when he was getting what he wanted and when he wasn’t, everything turned ugly as sin. I had called him a good guy but that was only because I wanted to get shot of him. He was not a good guy. He was a good-looking bad man, with a mean streak.

‘May I give you a present?’ he said. ‘Two presents, actually. Then I’ll go.’

I waited. He brought out two tickets and placed them on my desk. They were for a show at the Royal Albert Hall.