CHAPTER 3
BELLA
FEbrUARY
I double check my reflection in the interior mirror of my car and dig around in my purse for the lip gloss I threw in there this morning before leaving the house.
Gloss secured, I quickly swipe a thin layer across my lips before grabbing the Bella’s Café to-go bag from the passenger seat and climbing out.
Left over snow crunches beneath my boots as I step onto the sidewalk and I pull my coat tighter around me, shielding myself from the chill in the late February air.
The side street is deserted save for the few people assigned to the dreaded lunch run as I approach the three-storey red brick building that houses Thompson Publishing.
The planters lining the front of the building that are filled with bright coloured flowers in the warmer months, courtesy of Mrs Stirling and her natter circle, are instead covered in a layer of thick ice.
It’s ironic, really, how from the outside, the building looks warm and inviting yet the rumours that circulate the town tell a story that is anything but.
I push through the glass door, stepping into the reception area, the bag containing Justin’s lunch still clutched in my hand.
I do a quick scan of the room for the secretary but come up empty.
She’s likely out on her lunch break, so instead of waiting around for someone to walk me back to Justin’s office, I make my own way up the stairs and down the long corridor.
The dark mahogany door with Justin’s name scrawled across the front comes into view and when I realise it’s closed, I instantly regret my decision to surprise him.
There’s a very real possibility that he chose to go out for lunch today, or worse, he has a client in there and is in the middle of an important meeting.
I pause in the corridor, gnawing on my lip as I look back and forth between the stairwell and his office. I could turn around and leave, and he would never know I was here. The last thing I want to do right now is upset him again.
Things had been…rocky since New Year’s Eve, but after Liv’s baby shower last month they have been worse. It feels as though I’ve been walking on eggshells at home, waiting for the next thing to get under his skin.
I thought that if I surprised Justin with lunch that it would help us start to repair some of the trust that has been broken. Or at least bring us a little closer.
It was a foolish idea to think that one stupid lunch would have that kind of power.
With a resigned sigh I turn on my heel, the decision to abandon my plan solidifying with that thought.
I take exactly two steps away from the office when a feminine giggle reaches my ears and halts my movements for a second time. My head spins back in the direction of the closed office door and before my brain has even had a chance to catch up, my feet are carrying me toward the sound.
I don’t hesitate to think about my actions before I push through the door without knocking.
The first thing my eyes land on are the back of a long pair of legs, leading up to a barely covered ass as the owner of them leans over the desk in the centre of the room.
The second thing I notice, is how closely Justin is standing to said owner of legs.
His left hand rests on the small of her back as the pair of them look down at something on the desk.
The entire interaction is familiar and intimate, as though this isn’t the first time they’ve been in this exact position.
And nothing about the giggle that falls from her mouth, the same giggle I heard from outside, says that she’s uncomfortable.
“What the hell is going on?” My voice is accusatory and hardly recognisable as I stare between them.
Justin, who clearly hadn’t heard his office door open, practically jumps a foot away from the female who I now recognise as the missing receptionist.
“Bella. What’re you doing here?” He asks, the panic in his tone minimal but there.
I hold up the paper bag but don’t answer him, my eyes never leaving the blonde as she turns to face me, adjusting the length of her skirt as she goes. “Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” I ask her.
She blanches, her eyes flitting back and forth between myself and Justin. When she doesn’t answer me, I turn to my boyfriend.
With a raised brow, I repeat the question. “Isn’t she supposed to be downstairs? You know, doing her job and making sure not just anybody can walk right into your office.”
Justin folds his arms across his chest, his muscles tensing against the fabric of the shirt I watched him dress in this morning. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised but I quickly cover it with a scoff. “Right. Because my boyfriend getting up close and personal with his secretary isn’t my business.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he argues, the earlier panic in his voice now replaced with that same sarcastic sneer that was present on the phone a month ago.
I laugh but the sound is empty. “Okay.” Taking a step further into the room, I drop the bag on the desk beside him. “Here’s your lunch.”
Right as I’m about to turn my back on him and leave, his hand snaps out and grips my wrist in a tight hold. The action is becoming too familiar.
My eyes fly up to his, brows furrowed as he leans in, his voice low and full of a darkness I’ve never heard from him before. “We’ll discuss this at home.”
I stare at him blankly for a moment, his face suddenly becoming unrecognisable to me, before I tug my arm free of his hold. “I won’t be there.”
I spin on my heel, retreating for the door as he calls out, “Oh yeah. And where will you be?”
I pause one more time, looking over my shoulder and straight into his cold eyes. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” And then I walk out of his office, not bothering to close the door behind me as I go.