Keeping My Promise

I go back to my phone and open the message.

Opening...

It's a photo.

Opening...

"Come the fuck on," I mutter to myself.

The photo flashes open. It's a photo of Brad. Kissing a girl. A brunette. With a bottle of champagne in his hand.

"What the absolute fuck!"

I throw the phone at the bathtub, then slump to the floor. I want to burst into tears, but my anger overwhelms my other emotions. I scramble across the bathroom floor, losing my towel in the process. I grab my phone and lean back against the tub.

It's the same brunette from last week's party at Jake's.

I will fucking kill her. Then I will fucking kill him.

Then it occurs to me. Who is sending these messages?

"Who is this?" I reply.

I stare at the photo while waiting for the mystery sender's reply.

I wait.

If she was here in London last week at the party and she is in Sheffield now, did she travel with him, or is she from Sheffield and come down for the party?

This might be a different weekend. I don't know when this photo was taken.

Bing.

My heart stops. I stare at the notification. I'm not sure whether I can open it.

Another photo.

It's of Brad putting his key into a hotel room door, the brunette hugging him from behind, and her hand grabbing his crotch. She's pouting for the camera.

I drop the phone. I feel like my heart has been ripped out.

Knock knock.

I hear the front door to the apartment open, so I know it's either Brad, Gemma, or my mom. "Luce?" Gemma calls out. "Luce! Are you here?"

The bathroom door flies open.

"Hey, are you getting ready or..." She sees me and throws aside her handbag. "Babe? What's wrong?"

I'm crying so much I can't speak.

"I just got some really weird messages. From someone."

She crouches down and wipes the tears from my face with a towel.

"From Brad?" She asks.

I shake my head. "I don't know who."

"Wow. Okay, what did they say?"

I pick up my phone. "Turns out I'm a fucking idiot."

She takes the phone off me and reads it.

"No! You're not the fucking idiot. He is, and I'm going to fucking kill him," she says.

Gemma throws the phone down again and hugs me.

"Come on, babe. Let's get you up, and I'll get us a drink," she says, standing and putting a hand out for me.

* * *

---

* * *

I pop the cork from the second bottle of champagne. A bottle of Louis Roederer. Fuck it, we're drinking the good stuff.

Gemma joins me in the kitchen.

"Should I call him?" I ask Gemma as I top up her glass.

"Nah. He'll just deny it and come up with a good story for you by the time he gets home. What time does he get home today, anyway?"

"About 8."

"Want me to stay?"

"No babe. You can't be an accomplice in his murder," I sniffle. "I just need to have it out with him. I don't think this is his first time cheating, either."

"You're better off without him, if you ask me."

She leads me to the sofa in the living room and sits with me. I don't immediately respond to her. Maybe because I think she is right. But what would I do?

"Yeah, probably, but we've been married less than a year. I'd feel like a fool," I reply.

"He's the fucking fool. Look at you. Every guy's head turns when you walk past. Brad is a fucking idiot if he loses you. Frankly, you are way out of his league."

"I'm hungry," Gemma says, heading to the kitchen. I stand and follow her. "Gemma?"

"What?" she asks, leaning out of the kitchen.

"Can you not go out tonight? Just... I don't know, can you not go out?"

She looks at me. "Okay, Luce. I'm going home, but I'll stay in," she says, returning to the kitchen for food.

"Are you going to show him the photos?" she shouts.

"No. I'm just going to tell him I know what he has been up to."

We say little during the rest of the evening. We both have a few glasses of wine and pretend to watch TV.

Around 7pm, Gemma gives me a hug and a kiss. "Any trouble and you call me, right?" She says. "I'll be here in a flash... and I'll bring a bat."

I crash on the couch and decide more alcohol is probably not a great idea.

I still don't know who sent those photos. I might have suspected Jake. He would look out for me, but he doesn't play for their team anymore, so he wouldn't be there, and the secret photos are not really Jake's style.

I run through who would be there and who would have any interest in causing a split between Brad and me. Gary. It must be. I don't know his number. Should I reply to the last message and ask? That might scare him, and I'd lose my source of information. Should I reply with a thank you for letting me know?

Bing.

I grab my phone. As I unlock it, I see it's 9pm. Where the fuck is Brad?

The message is from Brad. "Having a quick beer with the lads. Won't be too late. x"

I am going to fucking kill him.

Bing.

It's Gemma. "Everything okay babe? x"

I reply to Gemma. I lie. She'll only go mad.

What the fuck am I doing? I'm twenty-three years old, sat inside on Saturday night while my husband is out partying and fucking around.

I type a reply to Brad. "Get the fuck home now! We need to talk. Be here within the hour or don't come back."

I stare at the screen. My finger hovers over the send button. I re-read the text ten times, then click send.

*Sent*

I switch the phone off and throw it on the couch like a hot potato. I leap up and run to the kitchen. Fuck. I did it. Fuck him. He is fucking with the wrong woman.

Fifteen minutes pass. No reply.

I check my phone. Full signal.

"Fucking reply," I scream at the phone.

Time to fuck this up for him.

His attitude is bringing out the worst in me. He can't have me and fuck everyone else. If he wants to act like a dick, then I'll fuck him over.

I look at the photos. I scroll through them again. Maybe I should delete them. Perhaps I should delete them so Brad can't get to them and then find out who sent them. Maybe...

Bing. A new message.

Fuck. It's Brad.

"On my way. Twenty minutes. Sorry, babe. x"

I know his game. I know what he is going to do. "I'm sorry," I'll say, and promise to be "nicer" to him.

No. Not tonight, Bradley.

* * *

#Chapter 3

Brad walks in twenty minutes later.

"Babe?" he shouts.

I don't reply. I just stay sitting on the couch, trying to look calm and hide my inner rage.

He walks into the living room. "Babe? What's up?" He asks nonchalantly.

"Sit," I say, pointing at the couch opposite.

He does as he's told.

"Who was the brunette at Jake's party?" I ask calmly.

"What? What are you talking about? What brunette?"

"Do not fuck around with me, Brad! You had your arm around her, and you felt her ass. I saw it across the room. I fucking saw it, Brad."

"Ah, I don't know, babe. Look, sorry, babe. I had a few drinks. It was a silly mistake. I don't even know her name."

The goodness and calmness left me like a reverse exorcism.

"Well, why the fuck didn't you ask her name while you were nailing her last night?" I scream, launching to my feet.

Brad's face loses all color. "What? Who? What? What are you talking about, babe?" he asks, slowly standing with his hands raised. "Calm down, babe. I don't know what you're on about."

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down and don't fucking call me babe," I yell.

"I fucking know, Brad! You were with her in a club and back at your hotel. You absolute shit." I thought the tears would come by now, but they don't.

Brad's head drops, and he looks into space. I can tell he is not bothered about what he has done. He's thinking about how I know. Fucker.

"How many others have there been?" I snap, jabbing a finger toward him.

"None. Look, I'm sorry. I made a mistake," he says.

"You're a fucking liar, Brad."

"It's true, bab... it's true. There's nobody but you."

"And the brunette. Let's not forget about the fucking brunette, Brad."

He steps forward and hugs me. "It won't happen again, Luce. I promise."

I push myself out of his arms and slap him.

The pain and anger rush from my head to my hand, and I slap him across the cheek.

He looks at me, holding his cheek, and says, "Ouch!"

"Ouch? Is that all you can say? You're a coward, Brad. Did it hurt? Or are you too fucking stupid to understand that I'm devastated? We're married. I fucking trusted you. You're a fucking liar."

"I was stupid. I made a mistake."

"You're fucking right, you did."

We sit back on the couch.

"How did you know?" he asks.

"I didn't. I just saw you with her on Saturday and it's been eating at me all week. You made a fool of me, Brad."

"How did you know about last night?"

"I didn't. I've always suspected you've been cheating on me, so I guessed about last night. Looks like I was spot on, huh?"

Brad takes my hand in his. "I've been an idiot, Luce. I promise you it won't happen again," he says.

"Oh, I know," I say. "Do you know how I know?" I let go of his hand and turn to face him, tenderly cupping his face in my hands. "Because if I ever find out you've cheated again, you won't be the only one having their fun. I will have a night out myself and I'll be getting fucked silly. I promise you that, Brad."

I lean forward and kiss Brad's forehead. "I'm going to bed. You must be tired too, babe. You're in the spare room."

* * *

#Chapter 4

"Have you heard from him?" Gemma asks above the music.

"Yeah, he messaged me when they boarded the Ibiza flight, when they landed, and when they got to the hotel. He did a FaceTime with me to show me his hotel room and messaged about every three hours since," I say before rolling my eyes.

"Wow, he's really going above and beyond to show you he's being a good boy."

"Yeah, well, he's on a stag weekend, so I made a point of telling him I was out clubbing and drinking tonight, and he should remember my promise," I say with a wink.

"I cannot fucking believe you said that to him. He must be shitting his pants. He knows, one sexy look from you to any guy in here and you'll be on your back calling to God within an hour," Gemma says, laughing.

"Yeah, well, I can see a few I might choose if things go bad for Brad. If I find out he's cheated more than once, I'll take two or three of them at the same time and get royally fucked," I laugh.

Gemma and I chink glasses and toast to good times and shitty men.

We roll out the club early as Gemma works an early shift tomorrow. Fuck it. I've been having the best night. I don't want the night to end.

I check my phone. Nothing. No messages from Brad for over six hours.

"Brad?" Gemma asks.

"Nothing," I say with a slight slur. "Getting a taxi."

"Yeah, me too. Thanks for a great night, Luce," Gemma says with a kiss.

* * *

—

* * *

The beauty of getting out of a club early is taxis are easy to find. I rest my head back as we cross town to get home.

Bing.

"About time," I mutter to myself.

The message is from an unknown sender. The same one as messaged me last week, and my heart skips a beat.

I open the message.

It's a video. Downloading...

I play it. It's black. I hold it closer, but I cannot see a thing. I can hear laughing and cheering, though. There is movement, but it's too dark to make out. Finally, whoever is filming moves down the beach, where some lights are on around a group of beach recliners.

"Whoa, get some Brad," a voice calls.

The cameraman rounds one recliner to reveal Brad lying back with his shorts down and a blonde girl blowing him.

"Wanker!" I scream.

The taxi driver looks over his shoulder at me. "Everything okay back there?"

"Yeah, so sorry," I say.

I struggle to fight back the tears and stare out the window at the late-night revelers enjoying the night in London's West End.

The taxi pulls up at the lights, and I watch an advert playing on a giant billboard. It shows a couple running along a beach, holding hands. "Fuck off," I mutter.

The taxi driver watches me again in his mirror. I wave a silent apology.

The billboard changes to a hunk swimming in the ocean and emerging. Jake.

I wonder what he is doing right now. I bet he has another gorgeous model on his arm. Or on his cock. I bet he treats her right, too, even if it's only for one night.

Fucking Brad. I cannot believe he has done this. He promised me.

And I promised him.

I lean forward and tap the security glass between the driver and me.

"What's up?" He asks, turning to look at me.

"Can we go somewhere else?"

"We can go anywhere you want, darling," he says with a chuckle, eyeing my cleavage.

I give him the address.

"That's not far from here," he says, swinging the taxi at the next turn.

Ten minutes later, I am paying the driver and getting out of the taxi. I check my watch. It's after 11pm. I look up at the penthouse. The lights in Jake's apartment are on. He's in and still up.

I wander to the front door. The concierge buzzes me in.

"Hi, I know it's late, but I'm going up to see Jake Hardy," I say confidently.

"Are you now? Is he expecting you?"

Fuck.

"Actually, no. Do you know if he's in? I am a good friend," I say.

"Yes, he's in. He's only just returned, though."

Fuck. He's been out on the town. If Jake's been out, he won't be alone.

The concierge must read my mind. "He's just been out for an evening run."

"Oh, great," is the best response I can manage.

"I know he's got a game tomorrow, so he never plays too hard the night before a game. If you know what I mean," he winks.

"Can I go up?"

"Let me buzz him and ask."

"Any chance I can just go up? I am a friend of his," I say with my best flirty tone.

"Yeah, I saw you here a couple of weeks ago."

"Did you?"

"I wouldn't forget," he says with a warm smile.

"Go on, you can go up. Let me get the elevator for you," he says, walking to the bank of elevators.

The first elevator arrives. He swipes his card and presses the penthouse button as I get in.

I turn and smile. "Thank you."

"Miss, I have supported the team he plays for since I was knee high. Tomorrow is a big game, so don't keep him up too late."

He presses the 'Door close' button and slides back out of the elevator just before I feel my cheeks heat up.

Oh my god. What are you doing, Lucy?

The elevator stops, and the doors open. Opposite me is the entrance to Jake's penthouse apartment. I step out and walk to the door.

I can't do this. I reach for my phone to message Gemma and see the video. I replay it to the point I see Brad getting a blowjob and then ring the door buzzer.

"Ahhh, yeah?" I hear through the intercom.

"Jake, it's me. Lucy."

"Lucy? Lucy Carrington?"

"Yes. I know it's late, but I wanted to speak with you," I say, fumbling with my words. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Actually, my mind has been a lot further along. It just skipped the introductions.

The door unlocks and swings open.

Jake stands naked except for a white bath towel wrapped around his waist. His body is glistening with sweat. My eyes can't help but roam to his chiseled six-pack.

He follows my eyes down to the towel.

"Sorry, Luce. I've just had a late-night run. I'm just going to hit the shower," he says.

I stand there frozen. My eyes can't leave the bulge of his cock beneath the towel.

"Brad with you?" He asks.

Hearing Brad's name snaps me back from my stupor.

"No, just me tonight. Mind if I come in?" I smile.

"Oh shit, sorry Luce. I'm being rude. I just wasn't expecting anyone."

I walk past him into his penthouse. Without the crowds, it looks enormous.

"You look fantastic," he says. "Been out?"

"Yes. I've just been to a club with a friend."

"Brad's brave, letting you out looking that hot," he smiles his usual cheeky smile.

"Look, Luce, I am a sweaty mess. Make yourself a drink and grab a seat. I just need to take a shower. I'll be 10 minutes," he says, strolling out of the living room.

I walk through the living room and out onto his balcony. God, it's as big as our apartment. Walking around the outside of the balcony, dragging my fingers along the chrome edge, I look down at the passers-by. The balcony looks like it wraps around most of his penthouse. A light flicks on in a room just ahead of me. I walk forward to see Jake's naked back and tight ass. He swings open a shower door. A cloud of steam pours out, and Jake steps in.

I feel like a voyeur, but I stand and watch his naked body moving behind the steamed-up door to the shower. There is a door from the bathroom out onto the balcony. I try it, and surprisingly, it slides open, and unconsciously I step in. My heart is racing. Brad brought this on himself, I think. Reaching behind my neck, I pull the tie to my dress. With a quick wriggle, it drops to the floor. I step out of my heels, then slide my g-string down over my hips until it drops to join my shoes. Reaching back, I unclasp my bra and hunch my shoulders forward to let it fall to the floor. Casting a sideway glance, I can see myself in the mirror, and I know I look good, but I freeze again.

Lucy, what are you doing? My thoughts go back to Brad on the beach, and I know immediately what I will do.

* * *

#Chapter 5

The door swings open easily, and I look into the steamy shower. It's easily the largest shower I've ever seen, tiled floor to ceiling, with a tiled bench seat.

Jake turns and looks at me at the entrance. His face shows no surprise, and he reacts calmly, turning his whole body to face me. He puts his arms out to either side and rests a palm on each shower wall. His body is taught. His cock is thick and long.

"It's much nicer in here," he breathes.

I step into the shower, pulling the door closed behind me.

He reaches out a hand to me. I take it, and slowly he pulls me towards him into the heavy waterfall of the overhead shower. My hair soaks, and water cascades down my face and over my body. I keep moving forward until I stand right before his enormous stature and feel very meek.

Jake leans down and kisses me passionately. The hot water streams over our merged faces. His hands go to my full breasts.

He pulls back a moment and looks at me.

I put a finger to his lips. "Don't ask questions. I can explain another time," I say, bringing both hands to his solid chest. His cock brushes against my tummy, and I look down to see it rising fast.

Walking forward, I ease him back to the rear of the shower until the back of his legs meet the tiled shower bench.

"Sit," I command.

He squats down gradually, leaning forward and tracing his tongue over my left nipple as he does.

The warm stream of the shower pours over my back and runs down my sides. My body trembles with want for him, with a desire for his touch. I'm completely vulnerable and ready for him to take me however he wants, but first, I know how I want him.

My pussy is wet for him, and I know he can sense my desire. His hands move from my hips up to my breasts, and he cups both in his palms, feeling their weight. He massages my breasts with strong, commanding hands from below, and I let my head fall back, surrendering to his touch. He squeezes each one, then pulls on one nipple with his thumb and forefinger until I shudder with desire.

I hesitate momentarily, then inch forward and press my lips to the pulse in his neck. His heart is beating fast, racing with desire. I feel it beating against my lips and press a kiss to the soft skin there. I slide my hands up his strong, stubbled cheeks and into the hair on his head, then down again past the stubble on his face, sliding down the muscular cords of his throat, my thumb tracing the thick vein.

His enormous hands stroke down my body, stomach, and sides, and back up to cup my ass cheeks in both hands. He pulls me forward and takes my right nipple into his mouth. God, this feels so right. He sucks gently while pleasure flutters through my body like a set of beating wings.