by Nikki Ashton
It had been over two months since my operation, and tonight was my first big night out. Me and my best friend, Emma, were at the recently refurbished and re-opened local nightclub, Ziggy’s. I was finally off my medication and I was going to have a good time.
I had to say, the club was looking good, and whoever had done the work had done a fantastic job. It was over two floors, the top floor being a mezzanine overlooking the lower level, in the middle of which was a large, round dance floor with a circular bar at one end
‘So, Alex still hasn’t been in touch?’ Emma asked as we stood people-watching.
‘Nope,’ I replied, staring out over the masses of dancers. We had positioned ourselves on a small landing halfway down the stairs overlooking the dance floor, and we had a great view of everyone.
‘And you’re okay with that?’
I heaved a sigh, and contemplated that question for a few seconds.
‘Yeah, I think I am. I never really expected it to be a Hallmark Romance love story, Em. So no biggie.’
‘It would have been nice if he’d shown you a little support, though,’ Emma grumbled.
‘I certainly didn’t expect that from him,’ I laughed.
‘But why not? You’d been going out for three years. Surely that meant something?’
Her little chin was determinedly set, and I knew she was wishing all sorts of hate upon Alex. We’d been friends for almost fifteen years, and from the day we’d met at school, we’d always had each other’s backs.
When her last boyfriend, Tyler, disappeared with her credit card and a thousand pounds of her cash, Emma was going to put it down to experience, but I couldn’t let it go. I stormed around to his dad’s tyre-fitting business and refused to leave until I had a cheque for a thousand pounds for her. Thankfully, it only took two hours before Tyler’s dad caved, and it only took that long because he didn’t have his cheque book on him.
‘I may have to hurt him,’ Emma said. ‘Not sure how, but I’ll think of something.’
I started to laugh at the thought of my tiny little friend bringing hurt upon Alex, who, at six feet, towered over her.
‘Seriously, Em, I really don’t care. I have no illusions that life is full of hearts, flowers and unicorns, and that all women fart fairy-dust. I’m a realist and I always knew Alex wasn’t to be counted on. I shouldn’t have let it go on as long as I did.’
‘Maybe, but he’ll get his one way or the other,’ she said, pulling me into a hug.
God, I loved her; she might look like Barbie and be totally spoiled by her parents, but she had the biggest heart of anyone I had ever known. Almost half of what she earned working in her dad’s car showroom, she gave to charity, and she was forever rescuing animals and taking them to my elder brother, Dylan, who was a vet, so that he could give them the once-over before she found them a new home. As well that, Emma had the innate ability to make me smile when no one else could: not even my brother, and he made me smile a lot.
‘How are you really feeling, though?’ she asked. ‘And none of your usual bravado bullshit.’
I couldn’t help but smile: she had me. ‘About Alex, I’m not lying, I’m fine. About losing one of my ovaries and my inability to have children … well, no, that’s not so good.’
‘Oh Summer,’ Emma cried, ‘don’t think like that. They’ve not said it’s impossible, just that it’ll be more difficult.’
‘It was going to be difficult with two,’ I said with a huff. ‘Now I’ve only got one of the damn buggers, and that one almost exploded of its own free will when I first saw Roman.’
I giggled at my little joke, because that was the only way I could cope at the moment: make light of it. I hadn’t told Emma, or anyone—other than Mum and Dad—that my consultant had said my remaining ovary was covered in cysts: so it definitely was Mission Impossible as far as babies were concerned.
‘Just wait and see what happens. As for Alex,’ Emma grumbled, ‘I’m glad you’re fine about that specimen. Let’s face it, you’re not going to be missing much are you?’
She was totally right about that. He’d never been the most attentive of boyfriends: dumping me at the first hurdle had proved that. To be honest, I wasn’t missing him at all, and the sex had been mediocre at best. Alex’s style of foreplay often had me wanting to shout: ‘They’re not radio knobs, you know.’ He just had no idea how sensitive a woman’s nipples could be. I’d even asked him to rip my knickers off once, but he’d had to go and get a pair of kitchen scissors to do the job.
‘Come on then, let’s dance,’ Emma cried.
We placed our empty glasses on a nearby table, pushed our way onto the dance floor, and both got lost in the beat of some old-school Ibiza club music: swaying our hips and waving our arms in the air; all we were missing were the glow sticks and fluffy boots. I had my eyes closed, feeling the music, when I felt a pair of hands on my hips and I was suddenly jerked back against a hard, broad chest. My eyes snapped open as I fought to pull myself away from whoever was holding me against them.
‘Oi,’ I said over my shoulder. ‘Do you mind?’
‘I don’t mind, no.’
Hot breath that smelled of sour alcohol, whispered against my neck and made me shudder. As I pulled away again, his grip tightened.
‘Hey, come on,’ he murmured, ‘I only want a dance.’
I turned the top half of my body around and pushed my palms against the guy’s chest. He was built like an Eastern European weightlifter: squat, wide and with a short neck.
‘Get off me!’ I pushed again, but he barely moved. He just laughed and carried on gyrating, not particularly rhythmically or to the beat.
‘Leave her alone,’ Emma cried, appearing at my side.
‘It’s just a dance, sweetheart.’
The man’s fingers loosened. He didn’t let go of me totally, but it was enough for me to get free of him.
‘Prat,’ I snapped, as I slapped a hand against his chest. ‘If I’d wanted to dance with you, I’d have asked.’
‘Who the fuck do you think you’re hitting?’ he growled, his eyes darkening.
‘You. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to dance with my friend.’ I turned to walk away, but he grabbed hold of my arm. ‘I said, no!’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t like being slapped.’
I was about to raise my knee when a large hand landed on my shoulder. If the enticing smell of lemon and musk hadn’t invaded my senses, I might have been scared. I turned my head around.
‘Roman,’ I gasped.
‘You heard her,’ Roman spat at the squat guy. ‘She said she didn’t want to dance; now get your fucking hands off her.’
Squat Guy dropped his hand from my arm, but he took a step towards Roman. ‘You got a problem mate?’
The guy was a little shorter than me, but I was wearing four-and-a-half-inch heels. That being said, it still made him a good couple of inches shorter than Roman. Squat Guy was, however, extremely muscle-bound, so I was a little worried about how this might end up.
‘Leave it, Roman,’ I said, pushing him away with the palm of my hand.
‘No, he doesn’t get to manhandle you like that and get away with it.’
‘Emma!’ I pleaded. ‘Do something.’
Emma shrugged and looked wildly around. ‘Where are the damn bouncers when you need them?’ she cried.
‘You don’t need them.’ Roman’s jaw tightened as he looked at Emma.
‘Roman, stop it now!’ I demanded. ‘I don’t need you beating up the little guy just because he doesn’t understand when he’s not wanted.’
‘Hey, who you calling “little”, bitch?’
It all happened in one quick movement. Roman hauled me behind him with one hand, while the other shot out, the heel of his hand smacking hard against the man’s nose, sending him reeling backwards and landing him on his arse.
‘Nice one,’ Emma whooped and did a little jig.
‘You idiot. Do you want to get us thrown out?’ I pul
led at Roman’s shirt as he shook his hand, still looking down at his victim.
At that moment the bouncers kindly made an appearance, shuffling through the crowd that had now congregated around us.
‘What the fuck, Ro?’ a huge ginger-haired man dressed all in black asked. ‘You’ve fucking broken his nose.’
Roman nodded towards the man on the floor. ‘See he gets sorted, Jimbo.’
‘Will do. What’s the damage, Dec?’ Jimbo asked the other bouncer who was kneeling down next to Squat Guy.
‘Yep, pretty sure you’ve broken his nose.’ Dec, a bald-headed guy with pock-marked skin, grinned up at Roman. ‘You’ve still got it, boss.’
Roman quickly turned to face me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Bloody Terminator. What the hell did you do that for?’
‘He was all over you,’ Emma said sticking her hand out to Roman. ‘Emma White, the best friend.’
‘Hi, Roman Hepburn, the boss.’
Emma nudged me as she smiled up at Roman. I turned to her and tutted.
‘Like Emma said, he was all over you.’
‘Yes, well, I had it covered, thank you very much.’
Roman let out a huff. ‘I don’t think so, do you?’
‘Ooh no,’ Emma grimaced. ‘You don’t want to call her out on being able to deal with Mr. Handsy.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You heard her,’ I snapped. ‘How dare you question whether I can look after myself?’
‘Because you evidently can’t,’ he replied crossing his arms over his chest.
‘As entertaining as this is, I think you two should move this somewhere quieter,’ Jimbo said, leaning towards us both. ‘You’ve got a bit of an audience.’
I spun around on my heels to see we did indeed have half a dozen or so people circled around us and watching everything that was going on. I grabbed hold of Emma’s hand and stormed away towards the bar.
‘Summer!’ Roman growled in that warning tone that he liked to use on me—a lot.
‘Wow,’ Emma gasped as we reached the queue for the bar. ‘He’s freaking sexy. Why have you never introduced us before?’
‘Because he’s a miserable twat who gets on my tits on a regular basis. Is that a good enough reason for you?’
Emma bit on her bottom lip and nodded. ‘Yes, but you might want to consider updating your CV.’
‘Why?’
I turned to where she was pointing. Roman was striding towards me with a face as dark as a November morning.
‘I think you might be about to get fired.’
‘Hah, let him try,’ I snapped, trying to sound more confident than I actually felt. ‘I’ll take him to a tribunal.’
As Roman reached us, I opened my mouth to speak, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him. He moved forward a few paces, then turned back, still dragging me with him, and reached into his pocket. He pulled a note out of his wallet and shoved it at Emma.
‘Get whatever you two are drinking and two bottles of beer and a shot of whisky.’
‘O-okay,’ Emma stammered.
‘My friend will be here in a few minutes. You can’t miss him, tall blonde guy with tattoos and a beard. Looks like a model. Probably got his hair in one of those twatty man buns.’
Emma nodded as Roman pulled me away from her, past the bar, and towards a door marked ‘Private’. He pressed a few numbers on a keypad and pushed the door open, before dragging me inside.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I asked as he flicked on the light. ‘We can’t go in here.’
‘Yes, we can; I’m co-owner of the place. As for what am I doing? What the hell were you doing dancing near a sleazebag like that? Couldn’t you see that all the wanker wanted to do was to get into your damn knickers?’
‘For your information, I was dancing there first.’ The air rushed from my lungs. ‘And don’t speak to me like that.’
‘I’ve just saved you from getting felt up,’ Roman cursed. ‘So I think I’ll speak to you how I like. And did I get any thanks for it? No, I didn’t.’
I gasped and glared up at him.
‘I did say thank you,’ I exclaimed. ‘You ask Emma.’
‘I think your words were “I’m fine, thank you.” I don’t recall the words, “Oh thanks for saving me, Roman” coming from your mouth.’ Roman turned towards the door, his breaths deep and heavy.
‘Can I just ask, what your damn problem is?’ I asked. ‘Was it totally necessary to drag me in here and tell me off like a child? We’re not actually at work now, or hadn’t you realised?’
He turned again and looked at me.
‘It was necessary because you’re rude, and I hate rudeness. Christ, you’re just like Tiffany—got an answer for bloody everything and no manners to go with it.’
‘Tiffany is perfectly lovely,’ I snapped. ‘And if I must, I apologise for my lack of manners, and please let me thank you for saving me from a dance worse than death.’
I gave him a sarcastic grin, and made to walk past him.
‘Oh and next time …’
I didn’t finish whatever snarky comment I was about to make, because Roman was pulling me towards him, his jaw tight and his eyes dark. His gaze never left mine as he grabbed me, cupped my chin, tilted my head upwards and kissed me. His kiss was deep and strong, taking the breath from my lungs. The hand under my chin moved to thread through my hair, while his other hand pushed into the small of my back. My arms flailed at my side for a few seconds, but then as Roman’s kiss became more insistent and I opened up my mouth to him, I snaked them up his back and gripped his broad shoulders. His muscles tightened beneath my fingertips, and he pulled me closer to him so that I could feel his growing erection through his trousers. I moaned gently as my whole body lit up, sagging against him, wanting him to hold me tighter.
‘Shit.’ Roman gently pulled away from me. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
I stepped back and felt my legs hit a desk. I reached behind me to grab hold of it for support. My chest heaved with the exertion and exhilaration of the kiss, my body buzzing with need.
‘Seriously, it’s not a problem,’ I gasped. ‘None whatsoever.’
‘I just had to, and at least it shut you up,’ he said. ‘You’ve always got something to say.’
‘I’d better go then,’ I bitched, pushing off the desk onto shaky legs. ‘Let you have some peace and quiet.’
‘Summer.’ Roman reached out his hand to me, but then pulled it back.
‘Forget about it, Roman,’ I said breathlessly. ‘I need to find Emma.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ he said, his eyes burning into mine, ‘if she’s with Henry. He’s a good guy. But if you have to go, you have to go.’
I nodded and moved past him, the electric charge that zapped me when I brushed his arm not escaping my notice.
When I got back to the bar, Emma was leaning against the wall laughing at something the blonde man with her was saying. I guessed it was Henry. He was exactly as Roman had described him: tall, blonde, bearded, tattooed, with a sexy man bun, and he was very beautiful. He and Emma looked like they’d been handmade for each other. She certainly seemed to like him because I hadn’t seen her smile at a guy like that in a long time. He’d obviously made an impression as I’d only been gone for ten minutes. But, shit, what a ten minutes they were! Not wanting to spoil her fun, I walked over to Jimbo, the bouncer, who was standing near the entrance door.
‘Hey Jimbo,’ I said shyly, ‘I just wanted to say thanks for earlier.’
‘I didn’t do anything, love,’ he replied with a grin. ’It was all down to the boss.’
‘Was the other guy okay?’
‘Yeah, nothing a free drink and a month’s free entry wouldn’t sort out. I don’t think his nose was actually broken.’
‘Oh, that’s good. I’d hate for there to be any trouble. Anyway, I was wondering could you do me another favour, please.’
‘It depends. If you want me to
punch someone else, then the answer is no.’
‘No, it’s not that,’ I giggled. ‘My friend, Emma, she’s over there with your other boss and, well, I don’t feel too good, but if I go over and tell her, she’ll want to come home with me and I don’t want to spoil her night. So would you mind doing it for me, once I’ve gone?’
Jimbo looked over at Emma and Henry, who were now laughing hysterically together and standing distinctly closer to each other.
‘Yeah, no probs.’
‘Thanks.’ I started to walk away and then a thought struck me. ‘He is a good guy, isn’t he? She will be safe with him?’
Jimbo threw his head back and started to laugh. ‘Yes, love, she’ll be perfectly fine with Henry. He might look a bit rough with all those tattoos, but he’s one of the nicest blokes you’ll meet. Him and Roman are two of the best. Both really top blokes.’
I looked over at Henry again. Despite the tats, he didn’t actually look rough to me. He looked quite distinguished and as though he had impeccable manners. Unlike his business partner, who just took kisses from girls without asking. But—oh my God—Roman might not have manners, but he definitely had sexiness. In abundance! And he was my boss —deep joy!
‘Cheers, Jimbo, tell her to call me when she gets home. No matter what time.’
Jimbo saluted me and then held the door open, letting me slip out into the cool night air towards the taxi rank.
As I climbed into the back seat of a cab, I looked back towards the club and saw Roman standing in the doorway watching me.
I barely slept that night thinking about Roman and waiting for Emma to call. I eventually got a text at four o’clock in the morning to say she was home. At just gone nine, Mum called us down for breakfast and, while I wasn’t feeling my best, there was no way I was passing up one of her fry-ups.
‘Morning.’ Pippa, my younger sister yawned, scratching at her hair which resembled a bird’s nest. ‘You have a good night last night?’
‘Yeah, great thanks.’
I’d had a couple of minutes: the rest of the night had been—meh.
‘What about you, Pip?’ my dad, Ray, asked as he folded up his paper.
‘Not bad, Pater, not bad at all.’ She grinned widely and gave Dad a peck on the cheek.
