Page 5 of The Whole Package

Fucking hell, babe. YES! What else have you been thinking, naughty girl?

A small, slightly unsteady smile pulled at my lips. Oh. This was a terrible idea.

Chapter Two

‘Harriette!’

It was the third time he’d called out my name in the last ten minutes, and he was starting to sound pissed off. There was more of an edge to his tone.

‘We’re super-duper late now, darling. Pen will be waiting!’

It took all my might not to respond, Fuck Pen!

I stared down at my phone, the screen still lit up in my hand.

Wish I was there. Bet you look unreal tonight xx

For a second, I let myself sink into it. The ease of it all. The way his words landed without effort or expectation. The way my stomach flipped, and I smiled at everything he said. I hadn’t felt that longing in years.

‘Harriette!’

Shit. I blinked, guilt prickling into me suddenly. ‘I’m so sorry, darling, just lost track of time. Give me one more minute!’

Truthfully, I had lost track of time. Not on purpose, but it did feel nice having a little attention for once. Adam was a presenter on Sky Sports, who I’d gotten pretty friendly with at an awards show six months back.

I was not in the least bothered about keeping Penelope waiting; anything I could do to cause a ripple in her little infatuation with my husband was always top of my agenda.

Twenty minutes later, I made my way down the stairs to find Rupert standing by the door, pacing.

‘I’m so sorry to keep you,’ I said, reaching out to stroke his arm as I passed.

‘You’re awfully dressed up for a dinner at Pen’s,’ he replied, glancing over my silk dress and blazer combo. A small smile tugged at his mouth. I glanced down at my outfit, suddenly unsure.

‘Am I?’

‘It’s December, Harriette. It’s freezing!’ he added, already turning towards the door.

We got into the car and I instantly switched on the heated seats, desperate for some warmth.

Rupert seemed more settled as we drove off down the drive and got going out into our picturesque Essex neighbourhood.

‘What’s tonight about?’ I asked, looking out the window. It wasn’t unknown for us to catch up for dinner, as, truthfully, I didn’t have many – OK, any friends outside of business. But our dinner dates were mainly scheduled around major partnership deals. I couldn’t help but wonder whether this evening had been arranged so my husband and his mistress could spend more time together.

‘I don’t think it’s about anything in particular. Pen likes having us around, Harriette,’ he replied casually.

She likes having you around, I thought.

‘We’ll go over viewing figures and collabs and . . .’

I sighed heavily. ‘Sounds great!’

Rupert turned to me. ‘Is everything OK, darling? You seem tired. Distracted, even . . .’

There it was. The opening. I knew this could be the perfect opportunity to confront him, to tell him I knew all about his grubby little affair. For months, I had watched their soft interactions grow, the way he looked at her like she was some innocent virgin with a golden fucking vagina he seemed to worship. I wanted him to choose me. To choose our marriage. But I couldn’t risk him picking her.

‘Erm . . . I am feeling a bit yucky, to be honest. Maybe I’m coming down with something,’ I lied. ‘I was hoping for a night in, cuddled up on the sofa.’ I could feel my heart thud, knowing we had never been that couple. Even on nights in, Rupert would watch sports in one room, and I’d try out new recipes or binge The Real Housewives, soaking in a hot bath.

For a second, I thought he might say yes.