Drake strode along St Ann’s Square towards the GAP store. Tucked close to it was the pub he and Oliver agreed to meet in. Seats under huge umbrellas shaded people from the sun. It was uncharacteristically warm and sunny for the city after the deluge of the last few days.

He couldn’t keep still, couldn’t wait until later when Bethany and Amara were done with their ‘all-girls’ thing so he could have his Bee time. Not seeing Bethany was about to drive him crazy but no way was he going to interfere with her mother-daughter time.

Oliver sat under one of the shaded tables. He raised his arm signalling to Drake.

“Did you find anything?” Drake asked. He didn’t bother with niceties when it came to pulverizing Andrew Tabler’s sorry face.

“Might want to get something to drink first,” Oliver drawled, his artificial leg stretched in front of him under the table. “We might be here for some time.”

Drake nodded. “Want another?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“I’ll still get you one.”

“Why’d you ask?” Oliver’s upper lip curled.

Drake didn’t bother answering, his mind already elsewhere.

He had to hand it to Amara. She diffused the tension percolating between him and Bethany. Something bugged him about the stranger and it hurt to realise Bethany lied to him. What didn’t she want to tell him? What was it she found so difficult to say? Even after her opened up a little to her, she hadn’t reciprocated. Bethany still kept her cards close to her chest and Drake didn’t know how to feel about that. It was like she didn’t trust him to understand and that sucked.

He returned to the table.

“Okay, spill,” he said as he placed the other pint in front of Oliver.

“Andrew Tabler has been living in the US for some time now,” Oliver began. “He left around thirteen to fourteen years ago.”

Drake’s eyes narrowed. He drank from his glass. “I’m not interested in walking down memory lane.”

Oliver looked intently at his glass while he continued talking, as though he hadn’t heard Drake. “It’s all sketchy but something happened that made his father pull him out of school and bundle him off to America.”

Now Drake was confused. “Tell me you’re going somewhere with this.”

Oliver took a swig from his pint, his lips pursing. He looked at the square and the people sitting at the other tables. He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated, a frown ploughing his brow.

“Cray?”

Oliver nodded, composing himself. “Tabler has had several run-ins with the police across the pond but always manages to find a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Aidan dug deeper into his business dealings and associates.”

“And?”

“His name has been linked to a group of gun smugglers operating in Miami.”

Drake’s blood turned to ice. “You’re shitting me right?”

“No.” Oliver shook his head almost in regret. “Thing is, Tabler still hasn’t gone to jail for any of this. Always gets off on a technicality. He must really have some powerful friends over there.”

“So he went to the US and was still a dick there.”

Oliver’s voice was flat. “Do the maths, Rosen.”

Drake stared at his friend blankly. He scowled. He didn’t need more puzzles and neither was he a fan of cryptogram but before any word came out of his mouth an epiphany jackhammered itself into his skull. He leaned back on his chair and closed his eyes. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself and his stomach plummeted. Not even the chatter of people enjoying the day penetrated the turmoil that took over his thoughts. He wanted to hit something.

“Fuck,” he said through his teeth leaning back on his chair. “Fuuuck!”

Oliver calmly drank his beer.

“This can’t be happening,” Drake muttered. “I can’t lose the gym, everything I’ve built. My rep.”

“What rep do you have to protect?” Drake glared at Oliver who held up his palms. “Last time I checked, being an all-around bad ass adds to being a chick magnet. You’ve been since the first day I met you.”

Drake pulled a long suffering sigh. “Not the right time to joke, Cray.”

“Sorry.”

Drake looked away, his mind still trying to process everything. He rested his elbow on the armrest, his fingers just below his nostrils and over his mouth.

“This is a total fucking nightmare, man. I can’t…I can’t let the gym down,” he said as though trying to make Oliver see reason. “Many of the men training there weren’t worth squat before they joined or I forced them to join. People will believe anything just to add spice to their pathetic lives but not my fighters. Not Miles. Not me. Tabler’s share of the gym, even a whisper of his name associated with it will ruin us all.”

Sympathy flickered in Oliver’s gaze. His lips were flat and grim.

“I know what you mean. Having men depend on you is a burden on its own. But I’d gladly take it because they trust me.”

“I need to bring him down, Cray. I need to take Andrew Tabler out even before this hits the fucking grapevine. How can I?” Drake asked. “I need more ammunition.”

Oliver smirked and finished his beer before he stood and limped a few steps away.

“That’s where I come in. Let’s go.” His stiff gait soon became unnoticeable.

“Where to?” Drake stood taking one last pull from his pint glass.

“To look at Tabler’s dirt.”

Drake’s mouth gaped. “You already have it?”

“Even before Felicity and I landed. You asked to dig up dirt remember? Luke filled me in further when we met. I just started the ball rolling before you even knocked.”

“Bloody hell…”

With friends like the men of Bridgewater Lofts, Drake could kick Andrew Tabler out. This time he’d personally vet the buyers and do background checks enough to bury them six feet under. Once that was set, he’d finally have more time with Bethany.

Just the silver lining he needed.

Was Oliver about to tell him something other than Andrew’s gun smuggling operation? Had he unearthed more?

Drake was sorely tempted to ask Oliver to look into Bethany’s past even if he vowed not to. But some things weren’t adding up. That time when Bethany cowered and begged him not to hurt her in the midst of her migraine. Her insistence on working in a gentleman’s club. And just last night, the family that entered the flower shop. He had been talking to Miles outside of Bethany’s shop and he couldn’t concentrate on what his coach was saying, his attention interrupted by the man who had approached Bethany.

Bethany’s reaction was suspect too. Not even a brushfire could compare to the flare of jealousy Drake felt at the way the man had intimately leaned towards her. He counted the seconds it took the stranger to back off. Right after Bethany said something that changed his demeanour.

Who was he?

What happened in Bethany’s past after he left had nothing to do with him.

Keep telling that to yourself.

Drake ran his hand down his face and scowled. If he wanted a future with Bethany he needed to let this go and let her tell him in her own time. He had to be satisfied with that. He had to trust her.

Just as he needed her to trust him for hiding the fact that Andrew Tabler was in town.

He couldn’t wait to see her, couldn’t wait to hold her. Couldn’t wait to make love to her hard before he took it slow. He wanted to show Bethany how much she meant to him. And if she’d have him, he’d make that his mission when they built their life together.

 

*  *  *

 

Bethany cut across Piccadilly Bus Station to get to the alley that was a shorter route to The Retreat. She had left Cinzia to close the shop and take Amara home so she could speak to Lissie about the flowers for the reception. Earlier, she and Amara had gone to Trafford Centre for some retail therapy and a leisurely lunch before going to Expectation Blooms.

The brisk walk gave Bethany air to breathe and gather her wayward thoughts. Cinzia was right. Still, it didn’t stop Bethany from being rattled and nearly giving in to the nausea that rolled around in her stomach.

She had no choice back then. With a child to raise and parents to support while her father was between jobs she needed to find a job that would keep a roof over their heads and make sure their bodies and souls were intact. That no longer applied to her after what happened to her and what she’d done.

Besides what was the point of getting something more decent when all people saw was a deaf teenage mother who had no qualifications? That changed when she took night classes and found a job in an unexpected place. Her parents never knew what she did for a living. It was easy to tell them that she found a job as a receptionist in a fashion retail company to explain away the clothes she wore. Money was more than decent too.

It was better than turning tricks on some deserted street and returning home with bruises. She was no different from them except she had better protection. The more she used her body that other women paid enormous sums to clone, the more she shed her heartbreak and her shame. The way she earned a living was the plaster that helped her build the walls that protected whatever sense of decency she had left.

Fissures appeared the minute she wanted out but something just had to happen that made her stay. An unexpected bill, medicines her father needed, Amara getting sick, the boiler breaking. They were the devil’s minions that kept her trapped in a world where money was no object and where self-worth was the price. Eventually, what had become her cage became her road to exploring her sexuality.

Her narrow path to freedom.

She went up to The Retreat’s famous door. A small foyer greeted her before the main dining section. She waited. A woman with a ready smile approached.

“Hi, my name is Gemma. Table for one?”

“Oh no. I’m not here to eat this evening.” Bethany smiled back. “I’m meeting Lissie about the flowers for Wednesday?”

Name recognition cleared Gemma’s face. “Oh yes, she’s expecting you. This way please.”

The restaurant had a complete makeover since the last time she and Cinzia had been here and after it had been destroyed in an explosion. There were no longer isolated booths divided by wood framed glass. It was more airy, more open. Exposed dark wood beams crossed the ceiling where warm and subdued lighting fixtures hung. Cream coloured tables and chairs dotted the expanse of the dining area with a bar along the right wall. Instead of swinging doors leading to the kitchen, it was an open nook with chrome trays where food was set for the waiting staff to take and bring to the patrons. Sepia coloured photographs of the city decorated the opposite wall. Bethany wished she could stay and stare at the photographs but Lissie was waiting for her.

Diners’ muted conversations and soft music surrounded Bethany and so did the smells of food that made her mouth water and her stomach growl. Instinct brought her hand to her belly as Bethany darted glances at the patrons hoping they didn’t hear the embarrassing sounds.

Gemma led her behind a partition of cream coloured stone and opened the kitchen door for her before leaving. Bethany was greeted with the smells and sounds of cooking food, the telltale touch of frigid air coming from the walk in freezer, the sizzle of meat touching a heated surface and the controlled frenzy of people shouting orders. Chaos was the foundation of the tranquillity outside.

She quickly stepped to one side when one of the staff passed through the doors and walked towards the main room.

“Bethany!”

Her head shot up. Lissie was waving at her by the office enclosure made of wood and glass.

“Hi,” Bethany greeted the minute she stepped into the office.

“You remember Corinne. And this is our chef, Dominic.” Lissie smiled, then to Corinne. “Bethany’s going to do the flowers for Wednesday.”

“Wow,” Corinne raised a pierced brow. “Tall order. You up for it?”

Excitement drummed inside Bethany like a bee hive. “Looking forward to it. Can’t help thriving on pressure.”

Dominic chuckled. His face lit up beneath the scraggly shadow. “With these two there’s never going to be a lack of it.”

“Off you go, babe.” Corinne rolled her eyes before giving him a kiss. “Your sous chef must be pulling all her hair out by now.”

Bethany felt light. Part of her warned to tread lightly but she liked the camaraderie and knew she’d enjoy working with them.

“Let’s talk in here.” Lissie ushered her into the private dining area of the office.

An hour later, after pouring over the logistics during a meeting which Lissie insisted she be privy to, Bethany had a clearer idea of where to put the flowers. It was no longer just a matter of dressing up the tables. The client wanted the restaurant transformed into a wonderland. Bethany was also treated to some of the most delicious food she had ever tasted this side of the city. She vowed she would bring Amara over the next weekend. She checked her phone. Eight in the evening. And there was a text from Drake.

Where are you?

Bossy. Bethany’s lips lifted to one side. She shivered. She liked it.

At The Retreat. Talking flowers with Lissie.

I’ll pick you up. I fucking miss you.

Her heart did a cartwheel.

Me too. I brought my car. Meet me at my place instead?

Okay. Can’t wait for you to sit on my face tonight.

Holy shit.

She bit down on her bottom lip trying to stop her grin. Her fatigue disappeared to be replaced by a throbbing in the centre of her sex. She was wet. Oh God, she could come from just thinking of Drake’s talented tongue.

“I gather that text’s from Drake?” Lissie gave her a knowing look.

Bethany blushed, nodding. She stood gathering her notebook and tote. “I have to go. I’ll email the discounted cost to you.”

“I want you to charge full price.”

“What?” Bethany looked askance at Lissie and Corinne. “I can’t do that. You helped me during the launch. It’s the least I can do.”

“But you’re just starting out.” Lissie insisted. “You need all the breaks you can get.”

“You’re not going to get a deal like that again,” Corinne advised. Her nose wrinkled and she moved her head. “I’d take it if I were you.”

Bethany’s shoulders slumped when she exhaled. Finally she nodded laughing softly at her good fortune. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Excellent.” Lissie’s blue eyes twinkled. “Are you sure you’re okay getting home?”

Bethany nodded. “It’s still quite early. My car’s by the store so the walk will do me good.”

Saying her goodbyes, she left the office and out through the kitchen. Just as she turned the corner of the partition, Bethany saw Drake and Oliver entering the restaurant. Happiness bubbled inside her and into her ready smile, pleasure making her step forward.

At the same time, she saw Gemma walk to the men, planting a kiss on Drake’s mouth.

Bethany froze, all thought flying out the window. Waves of heat and cold filled her at intervals as a feeling of betrayal stabbed at her and cork screwing its blade through her heart. Jealousy coloured her sight red as though it had taken blood from her wound and painted lenses over her eyes. Her throat thickened and in slow motion, she pivoted trying to find an avenue of escape. Just in time she espied a member of the kitchen staff dragging a bag of refuse stepping through a door. Beyond it she saw the back of the adjacent building.

“Bethany!”

Her breath hitched as she stifled her scream. Corinne and Dominic watched her in bemusement.

“Please help me get out,” she croaked, her voice deserting her.

They must have seen the fear on her face because Dominic immediately ushered her towards the door while Corinne intercepted Drake and Oliver.

“Thank you,” she breathed out, not bothering to wait for Dominic to acknowledge her gratitude. Just the thought of someone running after her lent wings to her feet. But her muscles seemed to seize up, her legs unresponsive. Her back prickled with warning.

With a sudden burst of adrenalin and the razor sharp focus that came out of nowhere, Bethany rushed to the darker side of the alley. It wasn’t any different from the alley behind the shop. Cold, dank, and dark she sprinted towards the mouth and found herself closer to Market Street.

Her legs felt like rusty pylons about to collapse. She lost herself in the late evening crowd, weaving her way through them, not looking back no matter how tempting it was. She didn’t want to end up like Lot’s wife. The distance widening, Bethany ran, not at the direction of the shop but towards the Town Hall. She had done this several times in the past. Similar circumstances, different situations. She knew how to read people. What they did, she’d do the opposite. She hoped that she was right at reading Drake.

Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird. The Town Hall’s clock struck another hour like a harbinger of the time she had left to escape. Her lungs were close to bursting from the exertion. If she didn’t stop, her chest might just explode.

She straggled towards one of the pillars of the Town Hall and sagged against it. Air puffed in clouds around her face as she forced cold oxygen into her lungs, coughing when it hit the starved organ. She closed her eyes, unable to remove the sight of Gemma and Drake together. At the way Drake had smiled, the way he held Gemma’s waist. Okay, so he had shown surprise but he didn’t move away either.

Bethany pressed her lips together huffing a sarcastic chuckle. She had naively believed all his sweet words, allowed hope to rear its ugly head and tease her with a taste of happy ever after.

She nearly jumped when her phone buzzed and rang inside her coat pocket before her shoulders slumped. She checked it.

Where are you?

Her heart bobbed in her throat, that sensation of being chased crawling up her back once more. She didn’t answer. Her phone rang. She winced as though the sound was a lash from some invisible whip. She let it go to voicemail. She knew it was Drake. It rang a few more times before it stopped.

Bethany bent from the waist, letting go of the air she had forgotten to exhale. She was tired, too stressed to listen to Drake’s explanation. If the ache in the centre of her ribs and spreading across her chest wasn’t there, it would be easier accepting that she was just one of the many. That she was a hook up…a booty call which Drake vehemently denied.

She deluded herself into thinking that she and Drake had a chance at rekindling something snuffed out so soon. They were different people now with different priorities. Their lives had taken different paths that forked away and would never intersect.

She started walking across the square facing the Central Library and pressed a number on her speed dial.

“It’s me,” she said cutting through small streets that would lead her to her destination. “I’m going to the club. I’m not in the mood to go home.”

“What about Amara?” Cinzia asked.

Bethany stopped mid-stride and stepped to one side letting a couple pass. She rubbed her forehead and exhaled.

“Are you alright, Bettina?”

“Just need a little time alone. Would that be okay?” The urge to cry was acute. Bethany blinked them back. “Are you already at home?”

“Si, we’ve just finished watching a movie and binging on sweet popcorn. You know she’ll be fine with me.”

Bethany’s mouth twitched, her chest easing.

“Is that Mum?” Amara asked in the background before her voice came through. “Mum?”

“Hey, sweetheart.” She injected gaiety she didn’t really feel. “I have to do something before I go home. Auntie Cinzia will stay with you.”

“Okay. Don’t be too long please?”

Oh what would she have done without Amara as love for her daughter poured. “I promise.”

“How long will you be?” Cinzia asked.

“Not too long…Maybe an hour? Anyone at the club tonight?”

“It’s going to be packed because it’s the weekend. Justine will be there.” Cinzia paused. “Are you dancing?”

“No, I don’t want to disrupt the routine already planned. I’ll be in the office.”

“I’ve not finished checking the stock of drinks and food we have. Could you do that?”

“No problem. It’ll give me something to do. Thanks.”

“Bettina?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever it is, you’ll pull through.” Cinzia said, her voice gentle.

Bethany clenched her jaw at the emotion threatening to swamp her as she reached her destination. “Thank you.”

Ending the call, she climbed the steps to the club, the music bleeding through the door into her system and thumping at the soles of her feet. The show had started. But their club was discreet. Whatever happened inside stayed inside. There were no queues. Guests arrived and were ushered in by a human wall who protected the girls.

“Soie,” Hassan exclaimed in surprise using her stage name. He opened the door for her. “I didn’t expect you here. How’s your dad?”

“Doing well now that he’s home.” She smiled briefly. She moved closer to speak into his ear. “I wasn’t here, okay? Just checking on the stocks so I’ll be in the office. I don’t want anyone to disturb me.”

Hassan nodded. He opened the door, asked another bouncer who greeted Bethany to watch the door. They both made their way through the crowd watching the show, mostly men belonging to stag parties and those with money to burn.

Hassan unlocked the cordon and pushed the curtain aside. Bethany thanked him.

“Let me know if you need Justine.” He said above the din. “She’s been helping Cinzia out.”

“I’ll be fine. Let them tend to the bar and make sure everyone’s happy.”

Bethany walked along the plush corridor, her shoulders relaxing the more classical music surrounded her and the thumping beat outside receded. She was relieved she didn’t bump into anyone she knew. Her nerves were already frayed and if she cracked another smile, she’d go ballistic.

She sank immediately on the couch located just inside the office door. God, what a rollercoaster of a day. Her mouth indented her cheek in a cynical smile. The time for living within a dream was over. Drake could not be hers then.

He never was hers now.