The Other Man [Book One]

Chapter 1 - Devil's Touch

I fiddled with my wedding ring nervously, the claws for each diamond dragging reassuringly across my index finger as I spun it around slowly. With a heavy sigh, I crossed my legs and immediately regretted it, my thighs aching and protesting the sudden movement. The brightly-lit streets of London passed by, glistening from the rain as I sat in the back of the taxi, mind desperately wondering how on earth I'd gotten myself into this position.

How had I just allowed myself to cheat on my husband, and how had I done it with a man ten years younger than me?

- - -

2013

"Hi, I'm Harry."

Looking down at the extended hand in front of me, dubious about the motive behind the gesture, I wanted to laugh. However, I knew better than that, so instead, I quickly - and reluctantly - shook it, before quickly snatching my hand back.

I surveyed the boy standing before me and smirked, "Yes, I know who you are."

Harry Styles - billionaire pop star, serial womaniser, and Mick Jagger wannabe. I'd read all about his girlfriends in the paper, much of them considerably older than him, but his baby faced, dimpled smile didn't impress me one bit. He wore a grey suit with a white and blue patterned shirt, and the mass of dark curls on his head added to his cherub-like charm.

"Ah! Harry! You've met my wife, Layla."

My husband, Will, appeared through the crowd and handed me a much-needed glass of champagne before sliding his free arm around my waist. Harry nodded and smiled, but didn't look at me again, obviously having been put off by my unfriendly manner. Despite a flashing moment of guilt for being so rude, I was pleased. Nineteen year olds weren't exactly my cup of tea at the best of times, but definitely not ones who'd have probably try their luck had my husband not shown up.

Will's company was responsible for building the set for One Direction's latest tour, and was also the host of the party I'd been harangued into attending. Parties with Will were a nightmare and always went the same way: I was always left on my own while Will worked the room, or I got stuck talking to one of his lecherous clients who'd spend the whole time talking to my bust. Either way, I'd end up drinking way too much wine, waking up with a sore head, and have Will asking why I couldn't be like all the other well-behaved wives at the party.

Automatically and out of habit, I switched off and tried to think of all the better things I could be doing rather than being there, but Will's voice droning on about lighting and ramps, and god knows what else, was too much to drown out. Harry, however, was listening with interest, and I couldn't decide if he was either really dull, really stupid, or just far too polite to make his excuses and leave.

"Darling," placing my hand on Will's arm, I spoke when he paused to draw breath, "I'm going to go get some fresh air, leave you two to talk."

He gave a quick nod in acknowledgement, barely hearing me, and let me slip out of his hold without any protest.