Strangers in my Bed Read Online Jade West

Categories Genre: Dark, Erotic, Insta-Love, Romance Tags Authors: Jade West Advertisement1

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I don’t want to look at social media this morning. I’ve been trying to browse through crap on TV, but it doesn’t do a thing. My heart is beating on high alert, desperate for Ant to walk back in through the door and tell me it’s all going to be ok. The last thing I want is for all of my dreams to shrivel away to nothing. I’ve lost enough of them already.

Ant calls between meetings, his voice happy with a hey, baby as he checks how I’m doing.

I tell him I’m doing fine. Great. That I can’t wait to see him.

I hope you’re eating fruit salad to get your vitamin levels up, he says, and I smile as I answer him.

Yes, it’s lovely, thanks.

It’s one lie I allow myself to tell.

I need to get myself on my feet a bit, as we’re heading to Bucklebury on the weekend. Ant’s already been scheduling a day out with my family at an amusement park outside Reading. An additional engagement celebration, he said. He’s invited Michelle, Steve and Tommy as well. Tommy and Harry are both so excited. It will be great to see them enjoy the rides and the animals and the ice creams in the picnic park.

I should be grateful. I am grateful.

I go on to the park website, and there is a reptile experience listed there with an available booking. The boys will love that, so I sign them up with special VIP passes that come through as letters written from one of the geckos. I sign into my email to check they have arrived and my heart falls through my stomach to see one of the messages waiting there.

G. Rhodes with no subject line.

I’m so nervous when I click to read, scared shitless of what he might have to say.

Cass, it’s Gerwyn. Please let me know you’re ok. Whatever Ant has told you about my involvement with fraud is nothing but lies. There’s no truth in any of it. Please believe me and let me explain myself before you cut ties.

I have to read it through twice, trying to understand it. Ant hasn’t told me anything about fraud, and I can’t imagine Gerwyn would be involved in anything like that.

I start a response four times over, not sure how I should reply.

Hi. I’m ok. I don’t know anything about fraud, but Ant told me you’ve resigned. How are things with you? I’m really sorry about what happened. I’d love to see you and talk it through.

Wait, no.

I delete that last sentence.

Hi. I’m ok. I don’t know anything about fraud, but Ant told me you’ve resigned. How are things with you? I’m really sorry about what happened.

I click send, then chew my nails, wondering what the hell is happening. Part of me wants to call Ant, but I don’t want to bring things to the surface.

I wonder how long it will take Gerwyn to respond. I sit with my laptop on my lap, waiting for new message notifications while I try to watch some reality crap on TV.

I’d love to know he’s ok and hear his voice, but I don’t have his number.

I get a fresh ping midway through the afternoon, but this one isn’t an email, it’s a message from Janie. I’m ready for another bride update picture, but it’s not.

I stare at the screen in utter shock as I read her words.

Why the hell does Gerwyn want to get hold of Claire?

Another message pings through before I can respond.

It seemed pretty urgent, and he was pretty sure who she was...

I don’t know how to lie to that, but I wouldn’t have a clue about how to begin to tell the truth. I feel sick at the thought of him meeting up with her, so I let the words come on impulse.

Weird. Don’t give him Claire’s details. I’ll check it out and get back to you.

I watch the typing icon, heart still pounding until her reply comes through.

Shit, sorry. I already did. :(

Gerwyn

Claire Walters lives on Vale Pass in Evesham, engaged to a guy named Lee.

The road is a quaint little cul-de-sac. Their place is a nice little terrace. I park up and wait, since there are no cars on their driveway, and I hope I’m well off track with my suspicions.

Ant pays everyone for everything, and charges everyone for everything.

It’s gone six p.m. when a dark green car pulls up outside their place. The driver’s door opens, and a guy gets out, casual, in t-shirt and jeans. He’s got to be mid-thirties, tops. Messy dark hair.

I’m ready to go, straight out of my car to join him.

“Lee?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking wary. “Who are you?”

“I’m Gerwyn,” I don’t offer my hand for a handshake. “A friend of Anthony Bradstone.”

He casts a glance around the street at that, checking for anyone listening.


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