Page 95 of Checkmate
“Another box?” she asked, frowning, as she saw the second wrapped parcel.
“All part of the fun,” he assured her.
“Must be something pretty special,” she giggled. “Especially for you to go through all this trouble.”
“Oh, it’s special, all right. Keep going.”
He watched as she tore through layer after layer of wrapping paper. She threw away one box after another. She grew more and more frustrated until she finally held a long, slender parcel.
“This doesn’t feel like jewellery,” she said, her disappointment evident.
Bitch.
“It’s much better than any jewellery. Go on and open it.”
With a tight smile, Sophie pulled the handmade book from the confines of the parcel. Her smile fell, and she couldn’t even give him the grace of pretending she was grateful.
“The Book of Love, by Marcus and Sophie,” she said, reading the cover. “Well, wow. Thank you.”
“I had it specially made,” he replied. “It’s a complete one-of-a-kind. Why don’t you read out the first page?”
This was it.
This was the moment.
His heart threatened to leap out of his chest as she opened the book. He didn’t expect to feel so nervous.
“Congratulations,” Sophie read, glancing at him briefly before focusing on the words. “You’ve just gone through all that effort, only for a book to tell you we’re getting—”
Her eyes went wide, her cheeks flaming. She stared at him, her jaw-dropping.
“Sorry, is that word too big for you to read?” Marcus asked, his tone laced with mock concern. “It helps if you sound it out. D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D. Does that help?”
“Stop being a cunt, Marcus. What the fuck is this? Why the fuck would you divorce me? Like you could get any better.”
Marcus ignored the sting of her words. She needed to lash out; he supposed. “If you flip to the next page, it’ll explain everything.”
Sophie tossed the book to the side, jumping to her feet. She looked ridiculous, surrounded by paper and cardboard. Like an eager child who couldn’t wait for presents.
“Fuck your book, Marcus. Use your big words like a man and tell me what the fuck you’re playing at.”
“I could,” he said, tilting his head to one side as though he were weighing up his options. “Or I could use another man’s words.”
He snatched up the book and opened it to a random page. There, he saw a beautiful image illustrating Sophie and Alex’s texts.
Props to the artist. It was such a shame this book would most likely end up in the bin.
“You rode my dick so good this morning. I’m still thinking about it now,” he read, watching the colour drain from her face. “If only Erica could move her hips like that, I wouldn’t have cheated.”
“Marcus—”
“Wait. Before you start with your excuses, here’s another favourite.” He cleared his throat. “Sophie, you’re getting sloppy. I’ve told you before, if Erica finds out, I will fire you so fast your head will spin. Get it through your fucking head. I’m not leaving her for you. I only care about getting your pussy, so stop with the theatrics.”
He raised an eyebrow and closed the book. “Real charming fella you picked there, sweetheart.”
“There’s been a mistake,” she said in a small voice. “Another Sophie, maybe. He’s not talking about me.”
“See, I thought you’d say that,” Marcus replied. “So I included images. Would you like to see them?”
