Slow Dancing (The Second Chances Series Book 4)

by Isobelle Cate

  “Hhmmm…” Cinzia concentrated on the arrangement she was doing but Bethany knew her friend better. Her friend was in her element when she multi-tasked. At the moment Cinzia wrinkled her brow. “The beers should arrive today. I’m not liking this supplier, cara. It’s always one excuse after the other before they deliver. If this goes on I might just have a heart attack!”

  Bethany laughed. “Stop being so melodramatic!”

  “You think?”

  She sighed shaking her head. “It’ll be fine, but if you’re no longer comfortable with Elliot and Sons, Limited, we can search for someone else.”

  Cinzia’s face relaxed. “Va bene. So…how is Drake?”

  Bethany squirmed in her seat, her face starting to heat up. She stood to hang her coat on one of the pegs. Drake had left her deliciously sore and spent, kissing her with a kiss that promised more erotic pleasures. Her stomach quivered and her sex did Kegels at the memory.

  But that had been three days ago and since then, Bethany hadn’t heard from him. She could have texted or called him but she didn’t. She didn’t want to look needy—which she was. That had never happened before. But this was Drake. And just like the last time, he disappeared without a word.

  So she picked up where she left off, meeting with Cinzia about the club and plans for Expectation Blooms, and doing just about anything to keep her mind off Drake.

  “Good…I think.”

  Cinzia stared at her over her glasses, a perfect brow arched. “Good, you think? Haven’t you seen each other?”

  “Only when he took me home three days ago.” Bethany pulled the horticultural magazine on the table, flipping through the pages without seeing anything. She slammed it shut, the sensation of wanting to get out of her skin making her pace.

  “And?”

  Her shoulders slumped, the antsy feeling draining away from her, making her lightheaded.

  “Nothing,” she puffed out. “I have his number only because he called me first. But I won’t call.”

  “Scusi?”

  She slanted a glance at her friend. “It’s not like we’re together, Cinzia.”

  “Did something happen?” Cinzia angled her head.

  Blood rushed up Bethany’s chest then face. She looked away.

  “The staff are coming to the meeting right?”

  Cinzia gasped, the shears landing hard on the table. Her face lit up. “Bettina! What happened?”

  “Cinzia…”

  Cinzia raised her palms at Bethany’s warning. “I won’t pry but really you should be talking again.”

  “I’ve learned not to hope, cara.” Bethany used Cinzia’s endearment. “That’s how we survived, remember?”

  Pain lanced Cinzia’s gaze before it disappeared and her shoulders slumped. She followed Bethany to the store front. “Si. I remember. Never mind me, Bettina. It’s you I want to see happy. When I plucked you out of the hell hole you placed yourself in, I’d never seen you smile. Really smile. But when you saw Drake, it was like something sparked inside you. I saw you…feel.”

  Bethany shook her head. “Not true. Amara has given me a lot of joy. I wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for her.”

  “Bettina,” Cinzia chided, gently squeezing her upper arms. “The joy of motherhood is incomparable. But the joy you find in the arms of a man who meant more than the world to you? That was what I saw between you two.”

  The bell tinkled and they pulled apart when the staff arrived. With a resigned sigh, Cinzia greeted the group.

  Bethany knew without a doubt her friend wasn’t going to let this drop. Hope was a dried up seed inside the cracked soil of her heart. No amount of watering was going to get that damned nut to wake up, which suited Bethany. But Drake was making her want that seed to have its own prince charming to douse it with water.

  The bell tinkled once more. Bethany looked up from the arrangement of pink and orange roses, a ready smile on her lips. Her heart lifted and nearly burst as love poured from her.

  “Hey.” She wiped her hands on her apron, moving out from behind the counter to embrace the young girl. She inhaled the softness of Amara’s hair, felt humbled by the strength of her daughter’s embrace, and repeated her vow once more to always keep her child safe.

  “Really, Mum. I wish I could wear that perfume you’re wearing.” Amara breathed. Her back pack slipped from her shoulder. “Smells sexy and sweet.”

  “Sexy huh…Uh huh…not, young lady,” Bethany said in mock reprimand. “Not in school.”

  Amara’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Who said I was going to wear it in school?”

  Bethany’s heart stuttered. She swallowed her rising panic in the guise of bile at Amara’s smile. Thank God that was the only thing Amara got from her father.

  “What can I do?” Her daughter dumped her bag on the floor behind the counter before removing her school blazer.

  “For one you can give your Auntie Cinzia a hug.” Cinzia came out of the store room with mugs of hot chocolate. The scent mixed with the profusion of flowers and the room lit up by warm gallery lights transformed the floral shop into a cozy and deliciously decadent place.

  Bethany stepped back. The banter and camaraderie of Amara and the staff lifted her spirits. Amara’s lightly darker blond head bobbed as she laughed. Her heart shaped face had a tinge of pink on her cheeks, her upper lip had a chocolate moustache that she swiped with the back of her hand. Bethany rolled her eyes in resignation.

  “Amara,” she nearly whined handing her daughter a tissue. “Really?”

  “Sorry.” Amara grinned, not the slightest bit remorseful.

  “Right. So people.” Bethany gave her daughter a mock glare before addressing the staff. “This time tomorrow, this place will be full. Well, I hope it will be.”

  Laughter tittered around. Bethany looked at the happy faces. That was enough to keep her anxiety at bay.

  “So get loads of rest, do what you have to do to come in for your shifts. Debbie, everything set for our online orders? You didn’t have any difficulty testing the system?”

  “Yeah, No glitch at all,” Debbie nodded. Her riotous reddish brown curls were secured in a knot with a pencil.

  “Adi, ready to show the world what you’ve got?” Cinzia beamed at the lanky Kenyan.

  Adi’s dark cheeks reddened causing more chuckles.

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.” He admitted, his excitement shining through his deep black eyes.

  “Good.” Bethany inclined her head. “We’ll take care of the people who walk in and those we’ve invited.”

  “Food and drinks will be here in the morning.” Cinzia said.

  “Okay.” Bethany’s breath ruffled the tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail. “See you all tomorrow.”

  Just as the staff left as a group, two women stopped to peer inside.

  “Hi.” Bethany’s mouth lifted in greeting. “Sorry we’re not opened yet.”

  “That’s okay.” The woman with strawberry blond hair returned her smile. She had a healthy golden tan that left a dusky colour on her cheeks. “We were just passing by.”

  “I like the way your shop looks,” the strawberry blonde’s companion offered. “Light and airy. Love the floral arrangements.”

  Bethany looked around at the display on pedestals attached to the wall. A burst of pride filled her.

  “Thank you, from both of us.” She included Cinzia who was beaming. “You’re welcome to drop by tomorrow when the shop officially opens.”

  The women looked at each other.

  “We’d like that. Can we bring our husbands?”

  “Absolutely,” Cinzia exclaimed. “Men should know the language of flowers.”

  “I’m Felicity Cray but you can call me Lissie.” The strawberry blonde introduced herself. “And my sister-in-law, Gracie Bryce.”

  “Bethany Brooke.” She smiled. “My friend and business partner, Cinzia Marchetti. And this young lady is Amara.”

  “Pleased to me
et you.” Amara’s mouth curved up.

  “We’ll see you tomorrow then.” Gracie said before turning to Lissie. “This might just be the place.”

  Lissie nodded. “Believe so.”

  “Sorry, the place for what?” Bethany was perplexed.

  “The place we’ll be ordering flowers from.” Lissie replied.

  Bethany and Cinzia looked each other.

  “Wow…I mean thanks!” Bethany said, stunned.

  When Lissie and Gracie left, Bethany, Cinzia, and Amara held hands and jumped up and down.

  “Oh my goodness!”

  “We’re off to a really good start, cara.” Cinzia beamed. “I better go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Locking up, Bethany and Amara stayed and looked at the façade of the flower shop. The shop could not have been situated in a better place. Located on the ground floor of a building a few metres away from the bus stop, several cafes, and bars, it would bring in people and sales.

  At that moment, people were intent on getting home. A crowd gathered at the bus stop waiting for their ride while others brushed past them towards Piccadilly. Millennials and office workers crowded the restos indulging in a pint or wine to cap the day. They were the men and women with money to burn until mortgage and credit card payments made it too much to keep up with those where money was no object.

  Bethany linked her arm with Amara’s. “Are you ready to come home?”

  “Is it okay to stay with Grandad first?” Amara asked. “I’ll return to the house tomorrow.”

  Bethany missed her daughter like crazy. Not even her parents nor Cinzia knew she had cried herself to sleep when Amara left with her classmates for their school trip to France. She knew eventually, she would have to let Amara go but couldn’t she have a little bit more time with her?

  “Okay,” Bethany said, her chest aching. She quirked her mouth to the side. “What do you say we get something from Arndale and you can take it home?”

  “Cool. How about McDonald’s,” her daughter suggested, her lips twitching. She squealed when Bethany tickled her. “Okay! Okay! Taco Bell it is.”

  Bethany threw her head back and laughed. The wistfulness was forgotten.

  “Barburrito or Chilango’s. They’re healthier.” She tried to be firm but Amara just brought out her lighter side—when she could let go of being an adult and allow herself to just be.

  “I’ve got to read on the Tudors and Much Ado about Nothing,” Amara said out of the blue while they waited to be served in Barburrito along Deansgate.

  Bethany’s brow rose. “Okaay…”

  “I know right?” Amara’s face contorted in distaste. “Why couldn’t Shakespeare just talk straight English and Henry VIII just stick to one wife?”

  Bethany half suppressed her laugh as they moved along the line. “Politics, I guess.”

  “Henry needed to keep his kingdom and Shakespeare needed to keep his head. I mean just imagine if he wasn’t able to entertain the Elizabethan court, who knows what would have happened to him. Languish in the Tower of London, maybe?”

  “My, my…languish?” Bethany teased. “I’m impressed.”

  “What can I say? I’m that good. Not like some other girls in school whose vocabulary is limited to what’s on their phone.” Amara lifted a shoulder while looking at the food on display.

  “Hmmph…Tone down that cocky attitude, young lady.”

  Amara sniggered. “Mum, it’s okay.” Then leaned closer. “I don’t do that to everyone. Just to kids in school who think they can get away with bullying other kids. You know…the little shits.”

  “Amara. Your mouth.” Bethany hissed and puffed a laugh at the same time. She darted a glance behind her daughter but the couple behind them were too busy deciding what to eat.

  Her daughter gave her a ‘Really?’ look. “You need to lighten up, Mum. You’re like gran sometimes.”

  Bethany gave up. Her thirteen year old had an answer for everything. She was tired. She was also deflated and it was bloody hard to keep up the sun-is-always-out smile and her facial muscles ached. Dammit but she missed Drake. She only had herself to blame for allowing Drake to enter through the patched up cracks of her heart. They fucked. That was all it was. Fucked almost like rabbits and would have done so given the chance. It was nothing more and she should stop reading more into what they did or pin the tail on the word ‘Hope’ because of what he had said. And she hated the dull ache of disappointment inside her chest for even entertaining the idea that Drake was serious.

  Shit.

  “Sometimes you sound older than me.” Bethany glanced on the sly at her daughter. She gave her order of chicken and chorizo, mild on the salsa, lots of lettuce, mushrooms, sour cream and cheese. Amara ordered a taco smothered with cheese.

  “Course, I have to. I love you beyond the moon and back,” Amara paused, sadness and slight confusion dulling her gaze. “But sometimes it’s like you’re holding back. Like you don’t really want to be happy.”

  Bethany pressed her lips together taking even breaths. She placed her arm around her daughter. “Where’s Amara and what have you done to her?”

  A smile flickered on her daughter’s mouth.

  “Honestly, Amara. I’m happy. I really am because I have you,” Bethany said once they were outside. She adjusted her light coat against the night’s lowering temperature. “I’m happy with the way things are.”

  Amara inserted her hands into her blazer pockets. They walked slowly through the crowd. The lights spilled from the restaurants cast light and shadow on Amara’s thoughtful face.

  “I wish there was something good for you other than me. Mum. Why don’t you want to have a boyfriend? Haven’t you found anyone you like?”

  Thank God for the night for it helped hide Bethany’s burning cheeks.

  “I’m too busy. Besides, you are that something good out there for me.” Bethany placed an arm around her daughter.

  “So you say.”

  “Amara, ease up on the sass. I’m tired and am not in the mood.”

  “Sorry.” Amara was contrite looking away. Suddenly her face brightened. “Take this guy for example. He’s like a man on a mission. Now, that,” she stressed, impressed. “is the kind of man I think you might like.”

  Bethany couldn’t stop her giggle. “Match maker now? Silly girl.”

  She turned to look at the man that had caught her daughter’s attention and her laughter died in her throat.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Days of arguing with Barry Slater, Luke, Rouen and now Oliver had given Drake a bloody migraine. Hours of trying to figure out how to keep the gym open while proving fraud was making him a ticking time bomb.

  When Andrew left, Jimmy came into the office with the rest of the fighters wanting to find out what the altercation was all about. Miles glared at Drake but said nothing. Drake didn’t elaborate either except to tell them to keep to their training because they had scheduled fights soon. He’d tell them soon enough.

  From the records and documents Caius had reluctantly sent before disappearing to God knows where, he had been embezzling the gym for the last three years. Barry was having a difficult time tracing the accounts where Caius had ferreted money.

  That was, until Oliver intervened from Bora Bora. By the time Oliver and Lissie returned, they had intel on Caius’ whereabouts as well as the accounts where the gym’s pension fund had been transferred. Aiden Kane, Oliver’s former second in command, had rounded up the team, alerted their contacts and had an extraction plan to pull Caius out from Monaco and get the monies back UK side.

  Drake had never been so grateful to see the man responsible for thrashing his first AMG. With the recovery and depending on the amount left of what Caius had stolen, the pressure of shoring up the pension decreased. Because Drake had been so engrossed with saving his gym, he hadn’t contacted Bethany. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bethany thought him to be the ass he was for the way he had treated her.

  The tightness around Drake
’s chest eased the minute he saw Bethany, but the rolling of his stomach increased. Even though Bethany was covered in her long coat, Drake’s body still burned at the memory of her body and how she welcomed him. How her pussy squeezed him so tight and loved him so good. His throat thickened with an undefined emotion.

  He stood across the street, a solitary stationary figure in a sea of people. His eyes drank in her face as she laughed at what her younger companion said. Drake recognized her as being the one in the pictures along the staircase. Bethany’s daughter.

  She was the first to see him and her stare hit him right in the gut. His feet moved slowly, briskly, his mind racing. Then she smiled.

  Ahh fuck.

  “Hello,” the girl said, intelligence shining in those blue eyes a shade darker than Bethany’s.

  “Hi.” He nudged his chin, unsure how to act. He got a better look at her before sidling a glance at Bethany’s shocked face. Something flickered in her turbulent eyes before it disappeared. Was that fear he saw?

  What is she afraid of?

  “Hello, Bee.”

  The girl’s eyes widened. She swivelled her neck at Bethany in disbelief.

  “Don’t start.” Bethany warned, her voice croaking.

  Drake watched them, perplexed. He waited. Bethany’s shoulders hunched as though she wanted to burrow deeper into her coat. Unease floated down the pit of Drake’s belly.

  “You two know each other.” It wasn’t a question as more of a conclusion. The girl’s eyes darted between them both. She opened her mouth once more to speak.

  “Amara, this is Drake.” Bethany’s hand moved quickly between them. She pulled in a deep breath before rushing, “Drake, meet Amara. My daughter.”

  He hadn’t been bothered asking when he saw the pictures on the wall, too engrossed to be with Bethany. He didn’t ask, she didn’t tell. But now, facing Amara in the flesh, the cold as insidious as black cod liver oil slithered down Drake’s spine and heat burned at the back of his eyes. A lump formed in his throat.

  Emotions shot in different directions. Drake didn’t know what to think. Didn’t know exactly how he felt realising Bethany had moved on while he had been fighting his way out of a nightmare that nearly ate him up alive. The only reason that didn’t happen was because he kept his path lit with the belief that he would see her again.