When people ask what I do, usually during dinner party small-talk, I tell them I'm in the divorce business. Immediately, every man assumes me to be the sexy young assistant to some hot-shot divorce lawyer, and every woman assumes I'm a lucky girl who made a killing off her lying, cheating rich ex-husband and is living off the proceeds and having a fling with the pool boy. The truth is that I'm neither and have never set foot in a lawyer's office nor married. I don't know if there's a real term for my job, my friends call me a 'cheat detector' and that pretty much sums it up. Of course no-one grows up with this career prospect in mind, I can hardly imagine the reaction I would have received at my snobbish private school if I'd waltzed into the careers interview and told them that I wanted to spend my future tempting married men away from their wives. And that, quite frankly, is all that I do.

My name is Etta Markham-Soames and I'm twenty-three years of age, though I confess to a mental age of about seventeen. The company I work for, Entrapment, has eight other women working, including the two bosses Myla and Sara. I haven't always done this, I studied English at university and left with a good degree and a job in teaching, however, only four months into working my father died and my mother was left in a coma. I quit work and spent a year looking after her as she grew weaker and more fragile. When she died, I was at a loss. I was lonely and grieving and the thought of spending my days in a classroom was enough to send me wild, so I started work on writing myself a best-seller. It was a year ago when after a day at the computer, I decided I'd head out for a drink and hope for inspiration. It was at my second bar that I managed to tempt a Mr. Evan Jones away from his tempter (Myla). Once I'd managed to get rid of the very drunk and irritating Mr. Jones, Myla approached and offered me the job.

The job was nothing to me. It paid reasonably well but I didn't need the money so I just stuck in the bank for a rainy day. It was impersonal as I only met the other women occasionally and received most of my information over the phone. Every other night I would get dressed up, sit in a bar, see if the man made a move and report back. During the day I'd keep writing my book and so the whole process would repeat itself. And that’s exactly how everything was until a few weeks ago.

Mrs. David Russell couldn't have been more right about her husband. He was cheating scum of the very worst kind. He was a handsome, charming and wealthy man who just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

'David!' I said coyly, smoothing my skirt back over my legs, 'please! We're in a public place...'

'Then how about we go somewhere...private,' he murmured. Like that's original.

'I really should be heading home,' I tucked my hair behind my ear shyly, 'I'd be happy to make a date to meet up though. Sometime when I won't be in such a rush.'

'Sounds good,' he arched an eyebrow, 'what are you doing tomorrow night?'

'Nothing I can't cancel,' I smiled, 'meet you here? Six o'clock?'

'Sounds good,' he winked, 'what's your number, sweetheart?'

I reeled off the false number easily,

'4952039.'

He nodded,

'It's a date,' he rested his hand on my thigh, rubbing his thumb, 'right?'

'Right,' I edged away, 'I have to go to the little girl's room then I'll be going. See you tomorrow.'

I shot into the toilet, rolling my eyes. Little girls room? How pathetic could I get? But it seemed like David was pretty interested in easy air-heads with bigger bra sizes than IQs. I checked my make-up, smartened up my outfit and left. I was sliding my coat on as I stepped into the car park when I heard footsteps and David emerged from the shadows.

I blinked and tried to slow my racing heartbeat,

'Hey!'

'Hey,' he took a step forward, 'you need a ride home?'

'No,' I slipped my hands into my pockets, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon, 'I'm just fine thanks.'

'I didn't want to let you go without a goodbye kiss...'

'Boy, thanks! But I think...' Shit.

He'd grabbed me before I had time to move and had me pressed up against the wall, his mouth hard and cruel against mine. I struggled frantically and managed to yank hold of his hair,

'You fucking shit!' I grabbed his hair and slammed my knee at the same time. He collapsed to his knees, gasping. I swung a kick at his stomach, 'you fucking...fucking...' and another kick...and another...

A moment later I was being grabbed backwards by a huge body,

'Shh...shh...'

Another man crouched down by David, regarding his bloody nose with mild interest. He cuffed David's hand behind his back and then glanced at me with slightly more curiosity,

'You okay?'

'Do I fucking look like I'm okay?'

His mouth curved slightly at the corner, his green eyes steady on me,

'You look like you were doing just fine. Vik loosen up.'

The man behind me loosened his grip slightly, allowing my feet to touch the ground. The man crouching by David sat back on his heels,

'You're Elizabeth Smith.'

I shook my head slightly feeling a little overwhelmed,

'No.'

'No?' I could feel Vik stiffen behind me, 'who are you then?'

'Etta Markham-Soames.'

Another long, roaring silence. Green-eyes just stared at me blankly while Vik let out a string of curses. My increasing curiosity was being crushed my increasing need to throw-up. I gulped hard,

'Could you...excuse me?'

Vik let go in confusion,

'Ms...'

I stepped over David's prone body, stalked to the bushes as elegantly as was possible and then, when I felt suitably shielded by bushes, proceeded to lose my dinner.