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Alan and Pete are his brothers. Alan lives in Sydney, and Pete lives in the UK, but they both arrived in New Zealand with their wives today and are spending Christmas here.

I text: I thought we were going to see the two of them together tomorrow morning.

He replies: I haven’t seen Pete for two years. I wanted to call in today.

I grit my teeth. I’m in no rush to see either of his brothers. They’re racist and sexist, and their wives don’t have a brain between them—all they’re concerned about is the color of their nails and whether their hair has enough blonde streaks.

Yeah, I know that sounds bitchy, but I’m in that kind of mood.

Me: Why didn’t you tell me?

Him: I did!

Me: At five p.m.! I was working! I didn’t see your text.

Him: JUST COME HOME WILL YOU?

Me: Stop yelling, I’m on my way.

Mumbling under my breath, I close my laptop, pick up my purse, and head out.

Anxious and stressed, I drive through the busy traffic. I haven’t spoken to Cam since our argument this morning. I texted him at lunch to ask how his day was going, but he didn’t text back, so I know he’s still angry with me. It seems to be his default setting at the moment, and I’m beginning to feel nervous at the thought of going home.

But I have no option, and five minutes later I park in the car park beneath our apartment block and take the elevator up. Cam’s an accountant, and my job at Kia Kaha pays very well, so although we’re nowhere close to having the kind of money the guys I work with have, we’re relatively affluent, and it’s a decent area and a good-sized apartment.

I let myself in, close the door behind me, and walk through to the living room. Cam’s sitting at the dining table working on his laptop, but he stands as I go in.

“Get stuck in traffic?” he asks sarcastically.

I toss my keys onto the table and walk through to the kitchen to get myself a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m sorry I missed your texts, but I was on a Zoom call. Look, why don’t you go over to Pete’s now, and I’ll go to the bar on my own?”

“And leave you alone with Henry?” he says sarcastically. “I don’t think so.”

I flush. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that there’s nothing between me and Henry.” He’s insinuated that I like Henry several times. The heat intensifies in my face as I think about the Rubik’s Cube. We never do it in front of Cam, so I guess it does mean something. But apart from at Tyson’s wedding, we’ve never kissed, never touched inappropriately, and never discussed our feelings for each other.

I’m nowhere near perfect.

You are to me. If you were my girl, I’d treat you like a queen.

Cam looks at my red cheeks. “Yeah,” he says. “Right.”

I glare at him. “I’m going to get ready.” I march off.

I strip off my business suit and have a very brief shower, towel myself dry, then come back out into the bedroom. I’m startled to find Cam leaning against the door jamb, hands in his pockets, watching me. He’s already changed out of his suit, and he’s wearing a white shirt with his jeans.

A little unnerved, I put on a fresh bra and knickers, then pull on a petticoat and do up the drawstring. I slip my feet into a pair of high heeled sandals, don my new coral-colored blouse, then take out the sari of the same color and start wrapping it around my waist. My father is Indian, and I often wear a sari for social occasions.

“Can’t you just wear jeans tonight?” Cam asks impatiently.

I tuck the silk fabric into the waist of the petticoat, drape the end over my shoulder, then start pleating the remainder of the fabric, conscious of Cam watching.

He wants me to argue with him. To tell him I’ll wear what the fuck I want, and to insist he’s not going to speak to me like that. I know if I do, it’ll please him, and his eyes will light up the way they always do when I’m being aggressive. Maybe it would even lead to us going to bed.

But I can’t bring myself to do it. I don’t want to. Not tonight.

Unbidden, I think of Henry, and the way his gaze always softens when he sees me in a sari. The way he’s so quiet, and supportive of me at work, but when I’m cheeky to him, he gives me a look that suggests if I was his, he’d bend me over the table and fuck me until I saw stars.

Ah, I can’t think about it or I’m going to cry.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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