apartment so, of course, I’ll move out. I’ll just need time. I don’t think I can live at the shop so I’ll try and find someone who’s looking to share.’
Albin’s dark eyes narrowed. He sighed. ‘Hannah,’ he said politely. ‘Your shop isn’t working either.’
Instantly, she fired up. ‘My takings are on a great trajectory!’
‘A Christmas shopping spike, nothing else. Your shop was never in the right place. Köpmangatan is neither Stortorget nor Österlånggatan, but the road between the two.’
‘I couldn’t afford Stortorget or Österlånggatan, as you know, and Köpmangatan’s fine. My upscale shop fits well with the antique shops and art galleries. It gets tourist footfall. It fits my economic landscape. If it’s so crap, why did you sign the lease?’
He shrugged. ‘It was what you wanted and – at the time – I wanted you. I was infatuated.’ He sounded sheepish, as if he’d said, ‘I was drunk.’
Hannah’s hands hadn’t warmed up from the journey from the airport and she clasped them between her knees. Albin was being implacable. Cold. Calculating. Reeling from the unexpectedness of finding her shop under attack, she was arguing from a position of weakness and had to fight to keep her voice from wobbling. ‘I can live on the takings if I have time to organise myself.’
Calmly, he rose to pour them each a glass of malt whisky, glittering like liquid amber in the beam of his reading lamp as he sat down again. He said quietly, but inexorably, ‘I’ll be doing something else with the property.’
Hannah gaped. ‘What?’
The ice in his glass clinked, as if he wasn’t quite so calm as he appeared. ‘Confession time. I’ve never gone “hunting” in terms of taking a gun and killing creatures.’
‘You haven’t?’ Hannah thought of the weekends he’d packed overnight things and given her to understand he’d be doing exactly that. Her repulsion. His intransigence.
‘It was convenient to let you think that but our community, we’re called “hunters”.’ He waited, as if expecting her to catch on.
She failed. ‘What are you on about?’
A tiny smile played about his lips as if she was being incredibly thick. ‘We’re always “hunting” for the next sexual encounter. There are clubs. We like to live in the moment, shut the world out. Sex with strangers does that.’
Hannah felt dazed. ‘Like swingers? Being polyamorous?’
He inclined his head. Then, when, stunned, she could do no more than gape, he added, ‘It’s an indulgence.’
Her hand had begun shaking. Very carefully, she put down her glass. ‘I never satisfied you? Not even when things were good between us?’ She felt sick. The conversation had spun far from the path she’d anticipated.
‘No one woman could. That’s the point. Hunters are always hungry.’ He went on talking, calmly, graphically, about indulging his taste for group sex and stranger-sex.
Anger flooded through her as he calmly described the way he’d been fooling and humiliating her. ‘So what’s this polyamory stuff got to do with my shop?’ she snapped.
He sipped before replying. ‘From those premises—’ he didn’t call it her shop ‘—I’m going to run a discreet club “for the curious”. Less tacky than arranging it via an app. People of like minds. Away from prying eyes.’
‘In Gamla Stan?’ She tried to picture a sex club amongst the tourists, the shops, the churches.
He shrugged. ‘It’s not illegal.’
‘But it’s my shop!’ she all but wailed, misery sweeping away her anger.
He leaned in and patted her hand. ‘I’m sorry, Hannah. It’s not. It never was.’ He was polite and civilised but inexorable. ‘I drew up a plan while you were away. Whatever’s in your business bank account is yours, obviously. In addition, you’ll be owed the value of your stock. I’ve told Julia to perform a stocktake and give me the figure, then I’ll dispose of it to a reseller. I’ll also return the advance rent you’ve paid and—’ he made a rocking gesture with his hand ‘—a little goodwill because you would obviously have anticipated a mark-up.’
Hannah could hardly believe her ears. ‘But,’ she stammered, ‘you’re keeping me away from my stock. That’s stealing.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘As I’m offering to pay you its full value, I don’t think you’ll get the police to arrest me. If you prefer, you can take your stock away – by arrangement, as I’ve already taken possession of your keys.’
‘From my drawer?’ she cried.
He inclined his head. ‘My drawer, I think you’ll find.’
Dazed, she stared at him, casting about for ammunition. She had no legal footing! Where would she put a shop full