Chapter 3

‘Dee gave me your address.' Dee. Serval's PA. Petite, copper-haired, milky-skinned, late twenties, goes red whenever Frank talks to her. My muscles relax. At least Frank isn't stalking me. ‘She looked you up on the system.'

‘Is that even legal?'

‘Actually, yes. The gym was trying to get in touch with you and you weren't picking up.' I frown at the pavement. I did get a couple of missed calls from the gym but I thought it was marketing with an offer to re-join Serval.

‘Contact me about what?'

Frank sways the carrier bag at me. ‘You forgot your boxing gloves when you legged it out of the studio last Tuesday.'

‘Dee should've texted me,' I retort, snatching the bag from his hand and peering inside. Yes, definitely my gloves – pink and white. I forgot all about those. ‘Or emailed, instead of dishing out my address to staff.'

‘Why don't you report her to Jane?' he suggests.

‘Maybe I will.' It's hard to believe that Dee gave him my address. She's good at her job, sticks to the rules, and she's terrified of Jane. But then everyone knows Dee has a huge crush on Frank.

Frank shrugs, examines his nails. ‘They'll probably sack her. The club is strict on data protection.' I don't want Dee sacked. Frank coerced her into leaking information in that manipulative, charming way of his.

‘Anyway, thanks,' I croak, ‘for returning my gloves.'

‘S'okay.'

‘Great. Well, see you around.' Folding myself into the car, I chuck the carrier bag into the footwell of the passenger seat. Is it possible that he only passed by today to return my gloves and clear the air about what happened? Let's hope so.

Fastening my seatbelt, I turn on the ignition. ‘Not so fast, Bella.' My eyes close. I knew it was too good to be true. ‘Wind the window down please,' he orders, glancing away. I buzz it down halfway. ‘I need to ask a favour.' There's a ding of a bell and he steps out of the way as a lad flashes by on a bicycle. Please don't let him ask me for money. ‘My landlord has just put the rent up and –'

Turning the ignition off, I look at him pointedly. ‘So, that's what this is all about, is it?' I rub the back of my goose-skinned neck, and as I glance away, I see Mr Stanhope's slim figure behind the nets next door. ‘And there was I thinking you wanted to clear the air, apologise,' I say, scanning my busybody neighbour's window. He's still there, recording us with his eyes so that he can relay everything to Tom when he next sees him. I can't let that happen. I'll stop at the offy on my way home, grab a bottle of gin to bribe him with, tell him Frank was a rogue builder trying to get business out of me, convince him not to mention it to Tom, not now that he's grieving the loss of his favourite aunt, Andriana. ‘What are you going to do, hmm?' I say to Frank. ‘Blackmail me? Tell my husband I hired you behind his back?'

‘I wasn't going to say that.'

‘What then? Tell him you saw me with…' I purse my lips. I can't even bear to think about Liam and what we…what I have done to Tom.

Squatting to my eye level, Frank fixes me with a hard stare. ‘Let's get one thing straight, Bella. I am not here to blackmail you. I'm here to make amends.' Turning away from him, I inhale the fug of his lemony aftershave and stale sweat. ‘Losing your business has hit me hard. A hundred and twenty quid a week is a lot of money for me.'

I bite my lips sealing in the words, then stop buying expensive designer gear and jewellery if you're hard up. I focus on his Oliver Peoples sunglasses, which are tucked into the collar of his top, as he continues to babble on about what a decent person he is, and just then it occurs to me that this man could potentially end my marriage in a heartbeat.

‘Okay, how much do you want?'

Incredulity sweeps across his face. ‘What?' he says, sounding offended. ‘I don't want your money.'

‘Then what do you want, Frank? Because right now I'm a little bit confused.'

A beat and then. ‘Let's start again. Wipe the slate clean.'

‘I'm sorry, but no.'

‘We can put this blip behind us, pretend it never happened.'

‘No, Frank, I wouldn't be comfortable training with you now.' Frank is one of the top trainers at Serval. I have lost weight and gained muscle, and, thanks to his personalised fitness programme, my confidence has grown. Admittedly, I do miss the buzz of the classes. But there's no way I can be in the same room as him, not now.

‘I can get Dee to give you a 25% discount.' I turn on the ignition. ‘Fifty then, but I can't get her to go lower than that.' He shoots to his feet. ‘Bella, wait,' he says quickly, tone raspy. ‘We need to sort this. Wait…I haven't finished.'

‘Stay away from me.' I rev the engine.

Bending forward, he pins me down with a stare, one hand on the roof of the car. ‘It's true what they say, you don't know what someone's like until the shit hits the fan.'

‘Get your hands off my car.'

Ignoring me, he licks his lips, glances away, and then his head snaps back round at me like a whip and the claws come out. ‘Just who the fuck do you think you are, hmm?' he hisses, face contorted in fury. I'm taken aback. I've never seen this sinister side to him before. ‘I'm sure Mr Harris would love to know a few home truths about his precious wife.' I go cold all over. How does he know Tom's surname? I registered at the gym under my maiden name – Villin. ‘Nice little practice he's got there at Hadley Green.' And I certainly didn't tell him where he works. But he's wrong about the practice. Tom's part of the optical team, but he's salaried. ‘I think I've got a bit of blurry vision, actually. Might be due for an eye test."

I swallow back sour liquid that is charging up my gullet, and just then a thought rockets into my head. Did Dee give him my address, or has Frank been following me after all? With a tremulous hand, I put the car into Reverse, leg shaking. The car moves, he staggers back.

I buzz my window up. ‘You stuck-up little bitch.' Glancing in my side mirror, I flick the indicator on. ‘No one dumps me, Bella Villin.' His words fly at me like bullets as I struggle to put the car into Drive. ‘There's a six-month waiting list for my fucking services,' he rages, booting the wheel of my car like a thug.

‘Move, you bloody thing,' I mutter at the gear lever as he continues to spit vitriol at me. With a trembling hand, I try to force the car into Drive. ‘Come on!!!' A clunking sound fills my ears – clunk, clunk, clunk. Shit, he's trying to open the back door. Thank God for central locking.

Next to me, Frank's face is a blur by the window. ‘I promise you, you're going to regret this.' Shrinking into my shoulders, I push my foot down on the brakes just as his gob hits the pane. I cringe, even though the window is closed. ‘Whetstone Manor. Isn't that where Georgia goes?' Oh, God, oh no. How could he know that? I slide the lever into Drive. ‘This isn't over, trust me,' he sneers, stumbling away from the car as I put my foot down. ‘I'm about to become your worst nightmare, Bella Villin,' he hollers.

Tearing along the street, my eyes dart to the rearview until Frank becomes a tiny figure in the distance, every part of me shaking. If my life wasn't complicated enough, it's about to get ten times worse.