I was never the playboy type. I embraced the ruthless, dangerous side instead and didn’t let anyone get close. Women were a risk, not least because of the inevitable ‘kiss and tell’ articles. There were a number of fake ones anyway because people want their fifteen minutes, they certainly didn’t enjoy the lawsuit and injunctions my lawyers filed because of their lies.

Belle was always different, infinitely more dangerous but I couldn’t bring myself to fire her. I knew her well enough to know she would be discrete, and yes I did consider a short-term affair to get it out my system, and then a generous severance package while she found a new job when it inevitably ended. However, I never could summon up the courage. I didn’t want to lose her, not her smiles when I did something right, not her scolding when I worked half the night; she fit into my life and made it so much better.

I suppose I had a rather large case of denial. It wasn’t until I was taken prisoner that I admitted to myself that I’d somehow fallen in love with her. I never believed for one second that she could possibly return my affections. I resolved that if I lived, if I managed to escape, that I would never tell her. If I did then I would lose her from my life completely. I would rather have kept Belle as a friend, than not had her at all.

Fortunately for us both, there was that incident at my factory. High on adrenaline, and the rush of survival, I kissed her (although Belle maintains she kissed me) and I admitted my feelings. I tried to apologize, I wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, but Belle wouldn’t let me. She said for a genius, I was an utter idiot. We’ve been together ever since.