The Affair

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Chapter 7 - I Love Her

...Arabella...

Waking up to sunlight pouring through the windows, basking my disgusting, deceitful, quean body in warm rays, I mentally cursed myself for forgetting to shut the curtains. I had promised myself that I would not work today or tomorrow or maybe at all this week - how could I? I was repulsive, a harlot, nothing more than a common prostitute. I slouched out of bed and went down the hall for my handbag. Reaching in I pulled out my phone, swiping it open. I was greeted with twenty missed calls and fifteen text messages, all from Logan. I began to open them.

… Arabella, I’m so sorry, Vanessa is not my anything. Logan x…

… Arabella please, let me explain. Logan x…

… Answer your phone please, I can explain. Logan x…

Growling at my repugnant actions of the previous night, I was unable to read anymore but I had to tell him I wasn’t coming in. No fuck him, I need to find a new job.

Boiling the jug and making myself a cup of tea, I grabbed my laptop and headed toward the back veranda in search for a new job. I needed freedom from all this craziness, he was just as much to blame for this as I was.

Hearing a knock at the door sometime later, I headed toward the entrance, “who is it?” I call out.

“Arabella, open up.” A frantic but husky voice calls back, the most beautiful voice I’d ever heard was at my front door. Why the fuck is he here?

“Logan, go away,” was all I could reply as the tears came rapidly seeping from my eyes, the memory of my betrayal slapping me in the face.

“Please Arabella, she is nothing to me but a crazy one time lay.” Choking on the tears, trying hard to hold everything in, I fell to the floor, listening as he pleaded and banged on my front door.

“Arabella please, open the door.” His fist pounded again. “She was just a fuck, months ago, I swear.” No, no, just go away. “Arabella?”

After about an hour, he finally gives up with a, “fuck you then,” and leaves.

I lay there, dry tears staining my cheeks and a gaping hole in my chest. I had finally hit rock bottom and the hurt and disconnection ravished my soul - I was a worthless whore.



...Logan...

She had left me banging at her door for an hour. My last words to her were, ‘fuck you then’. God, I was an asshole.

I strode into work three hours late with a very angered Pierre waiting for me.

“Where the hell have you been? Your phone has been going crazy, where is Arabella?” He stood with his arms folded as his P.A ran between both desks.

“Get out of my way Pear,” I snapped - it was all I could manage under the circumstances - before walking into my office and slamming the door causing the glass to vibrate under my inflicted force.

Moments later, in walked Pierre and demanded an explanation for my less than favourable behaviour.

“Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? I am your business partner and your friend, if you have lost a client, I need to know.” He flopped into my chair.

“Not a client Pear, I lost Arabella.” I hung my head in my hands while sitting in my computer chair, the night’s tumultuous events marring my face.

“What? She’s married,” he gaped in confusion.

“I had her Pierre, on my bed, in only a bra and panties and Vanessa broke in and went psychotic,” I groaned at my frustrating situation.

“The crazy fuck Vanessa from months ago?” I just nodded slowly. “Wow, I underestimated you, here you are telling me to leave her alone all because you were gunning for her - you sly bastard,” Pierre seemed pissed but he didn’t understand.

“I don’t just want to fuck her Pear, you do, I want her as my wife.” Pierre’s eyes widened like saucers at my admission.

“Fuck man, I’ve never seen this side of you.”

“But I’ve blown it, she won’t speak to me, she won’t even answer her door,” I growled like an animal, why couldn’t she have just opened the fucking door?

“What are you going to do?” Pierre’s tone had suddenly softened realising the enormity of my predicament and leans forward with his elbows on his knees, rife with concern.

“I don’t know, something. I have a feeling she’s going to run, quit her job, so I will never get a chance to explain and say goodbye to the only woman I have ever loved.”



A few days had passed and there was still no word from Arabella. She had been successfully avoiding me, despite my frequent visits to her house - I still hadn’t managed to speak with her. If only she would give me one chance, I could change her mind, make her see. I was a multimillionaire and could talk my way in, out and through a deal on the seat of my pants but this woman was iron clad shut and I was hopelessly lost.

I had fallen for her so effortlessly. She didn’t see me as money or for social gain, she saw me - who I truly was. The sexual chemistry was undeniable but it was her heart that I had unknowingly been caught by, mistaken for lust because I had never known anything else. Yes, she was gorgeous, but there was purity there, softness, innocence, intelligence - she was so much more than anyone ever knew.

Opening up my emails, I noticed there was one in my inbox that belonged to Arabella Lucia’s personal account. As I clicked to open it, my palms became instantly sweaty and my heartbeat raced at the thought of what lay within the contents.

Dear Mr L McCarlock,

Please find attached my resignation letter.

Thank you for the wonderful opportunity.

I wish you all the best in your future,

Arabella Lucia.

She had done what I was expecting and I was angry. I was in love with her, love, not damn infatuation and one lousy mistake had cost me my entire future. Sweat poured from my forehead, I had to find her, I had to explain, I had to get her back.

Shooting off a reply, I prayed it would make it to her in time.

Dear Arabella,

Unfortunately, your contract entitles me 4 weeks notice before you depart from our company. I understand you have been unwell but you are a remarkable P.A and I am not willing to lose you.

Mr Logan McCarlock,

CEO of LMPT Limited.

After pressing send, I went straight to the elevator and hauled ass to my car. She will see me, even if I have to break into her damn house.

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