The Prisoner’s Wife by Ali Blood

Author:Ali Blood [Blood, Ali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollinsPublishers
Published: 2023-01-09T17:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The envelope is similar to the others I’ve received, but this one doesn’t contain a photograph. Instead, there’s a short message scrawled in pencil on a piece of paper.

Meet me at Ben’s Café on Temple Street in an hour. And make sure you come alone.

I know Ben’s Café because it’s not far from where I live and was opened only about six months ago. I decide to go because I need to confront Ruben, or whatever his name is. There are questions I have to ask him, including how much I’ll have to pay to stop him. After what happened to Ajay it’s all the more imperative that I stop these compromising photos of us at the house party from reaching Tommy or any members of his family.

I’m guessing it will be impossible to persuade him to drop the threat and leave me alone without any recompense. He’s clearly put a lot of thought into planning it. First he would have had to get the photos from his friend who took them and then he would have had to find out where I lived to be able to deliver them in person. Finding my home address would have been very difficult because Tommy is careful about keeping it private, so I know he’s determined and resourceful.

And I also know he won’t go away until he gets what he wants.

The rain has stopped by the time I leave the flat at half five. It’s dark already and the evening feels heavy and subdued. I walk at a leisurely pace, but I keep looking around to see if anyone is following me. The last thing I want is for one of my husband’s henchmen to witness me meeting up with another man. But I don’t see anyone acting suspicious or showing an interest in me, so maybe he’s called off the hounds for now, believing I wouldn’t dare make the same mistake again. I keep my fingers crossed.

It will only take me about ten minutes to get to the café and, on the way, I think back to what happened between me and Ruben. There’s no question I was attracted to him. The perfect-teeth smile, the dark spiky hair, those come-to-bed eyes. I wish now I’d got him to tell me more about himself: his surname, for instance, where he worked, if he had any children. But I suppose even if he had told me, I wouldn’t have taken it in, let alone remembered it since I wasn’t exactly sober and focused at the time. I do recall noticing that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but I can’t remember asking him if he was married.

Suddenly, the café is ahead of me and, as I approach the entrance, my pulse begins to pound and the noises around me seem to fade away. It’s one of those smart, trendy establishments that attracts a young clientele. But it’s not very busy when I enter. I count three couples and two guys by themselves, and Ruben is not among them.

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