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Chapter Fifty-Three

I woke before Noah the next morning. Throwing on his white formal shirt that was lying crumpled on the floor, I padded over quietly to the bathroom where the sharp stinging that greeted me reminded me of the boundary we had broken the night before.

This had better get more enjoyable, I thought to myself, as the weird, bruised sensation between my legs remained tight and uncomfortable.

As I gingerly walked over to click on the kettle in the corner of our room, I noticed an envelope had been pushed under the door; unlabeled, but with the hotel's logo printed on the front.

While the water for a much-needed coffee started to gently bubble, I tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper folded inside. I probably shouldn't have been looking. If it was the bill for the room, Charlotte would be furious that I knew how much she and Alex were paying for our stay. But, still, I couldn't resist having a little peek.

The contents made no sense to begin with. Three sheets of A4 paper, each containing photos of Noah in various states of dress and undress. Pictures of him lounging in an armchair wearing his tailored black suit, leaning against a white brick wall topless, sitting on a stool with his belt hanging open below his chiselled abs, his chest covered in less ink than I recognised.

Next to each photo, someone had taken a screenshot of a web page. The words swam in front of my eyes as I read them, again and again.

Nathan Hart

Age: 20

Locations: London and SE

'Allow our green-eyed, golden-haired hunk to show you his Hart for one incredible night... available for bookings... with a reputation as 'The Tongue Teaser', Nathan is sure to get you in a twist... call now or book online... a hot favourite with Cougars of Kensington and Chelsea.'

As I blinked rapidly to try and stop the words from swirling around on the paper, a gut-wrenching blow of realisation punched me hard in the stomach. It was there, in black and white. The pieces began to fall into place, clicking together in my mind like pieces of a jigsaw as the nausea rose into my chest.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I read, and then re-read, it all again. I looked over at Noah, sleeping peacefully in the four-poster bed. He was too beautiful for this to be true, too perfect. He loved me, he'd said so himself.

This has to all just be some kind of misunderstanding.

But, as I looked back down at the flimsy sheets quivering in my hand, there was no denying it. There was also no denying just who had slipped this information under the door.

Silently, I walked over to the edge of the bed where I stood motionlessly looking down at Noah. My presence looming above him must have disturbed his sleep. As he began to stir, he opened his eyes and smiled up at me lazily.

"Good morning, beautiful," he beamed, stretching his arms high above his head, his biceps flexing naturally with the movement.

Without saying a word, I dropped the papers onto his bare chest. Looking confused, he picked them up and his face instantly dropped into an expression I had never seen before.

"What the fuck? Who gave you this?" he snapped, sitting up sharply.

"You're a liar. A dirty, fucking liar." I said flatly, trembling as I tried to hold back the tears. Or vomit, I wasn't sure which was going to come first.

"Abi, where did this come from?" Noah growled, his voice rising as his eyes flashed with anger.

"It was under the door when I woke up. Holly clearly wanted me to know that she's been telling the truth about you."