Slow Dancing (The Second Chances Series Book 4)

by Isobelle Cate

  “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.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  Frustration and desperation kept Drake’s chest in a constant vice.

  By the time he’d seen Bethany, Gemma had planted a kiss on his lips and clung to his side like she had all the right in the world. Oliver’s face was inscrutable save for the muscle that jumped by the side of his jaw.

  Drake pulled away from Gemma, rushing to the kitchen to follow Bethany. Corinne had all but cordoned him off, stepping in tandem with him. And she was bloody enjoying what she was doing and was even unfazed by his frown that most people in the gym hid from. Dominic followed not allowing Drake to pass until Oliver arrived. The moment Drake saw a break, he rushed to the back door.

  His heart hammered in his chest, guilt flooding him at the hurt he saw clouding Bethany’s beautiful cerulean gaze. He wanted to shout that it wasn’t what she thought…whatever she saw had happened. He couldn’t do that in front of the diners and neither did he give a fuck at Gemma’s startled exclamation of his name.

  When he got to the alley, he shouted Bethany’s name, looking back and forth foreboding settling heavily in his gut. She was gone.

  “I can ask Malcolm to look for her.” Oliver arrived behind him, scanning the alley himself. The light from the kitchen spilled out illuminating them both.

  “No, she won’t like that,” Drake said, his voice tight. “I did that to her already once.”

  Oliver pinned him with a glare.

  Drake made a sound at the back of his throat. “I couldn’t find her after I left, alright?” He raked his hand through his hair while the other gripped his waist. “I was forced to leave her before. When I got back on my feet I returned to the last address I knew. She was gone. Years, Cray. I had to wait years to find her again. So I hired a PI who couldn’t find her either until your wedding.”

  “My wedding?” There was no hiding the surprise in Oliver’s voice.

  “I saw her at your wedding. She and her friend, Cinzia were hiking the trails.” He let out a laugh bowing his head. “I knew her as a blond. It never crossed my mind she’d colour her hair black.”

  Oliver nudged his chin upward. “And was that the reason why you decided to play He-Man with one of the champagne glasses?”

  Drake chuckled in spite of himself. He looked at his hand. Malcolm’s stitching was nearly invisible save for the pinkish scab.

  “Yeah. I couldn’t believe I finally found her then she disappeared again until I saw her dancing at a club. Shit.”

  Drake moved away, putting his linked hands behind his neck and looked up at the sky pregnant with rain clouds again. He snorted the rancid smell of the alley when he pulled a breath. He took out his phone and sent a text. When she didn’t answer, he rang her phone. She didn’t pick up either. He bowed his head, hopelessness eating at his insides.

  “Fuck!” Where the hell was she now?

  Oliver remained stoic by the kitchen door waiting.

  “Look, man. It’s okay. Go back to Lissie.”

  “Lissie will understand why I’m here,” Oliver said. “She knows what it’s like when a woman means that much to a man.”

  Drake glanced sideways at his friend who had fought the odds for the woman he loved.

  “Speaking from experience?”

  Oliver cracked a smile. “Yes. And you know what you have to do.”

  “That obvious?”

  “Rosen, I’ve never seen you turn down a woman before. You practically pushed Gemma to the side in your haste. I haven’t seen you with anyone either since my wedding.”

  “Uhm…about that.”

  Oliver’s brows rose. “I see…”

  “But that was because Bethany had disappeared again and I had no idea where to find her. Scrap that. I knew she and her friend had entered one of the sandwich shops in Sandbank but…bloody hell...I didn’t know what to say to her.”

  “And when you met her again in a club?”

  All of a sudden, everything came pouring out of Drake. How Bethany had come into his life, the reason he left her, the desire to find her. His vow to get her back.

  “Bloody hell, Cray.” Drake closed his eyes at the memory. “When I saw her dancing in the club, I just wanted to punch every man ogling her. Maybe it was a good thing Caius brought me to that club. I realized how fucking stupid I was on both counts.”

  “Cock, dick, and penis, Rosen? Seriously?” Oliver narrowed his gaze. “That’s the lowest of the low, man. Not ever a streetwalker deserves that.”

  Drake cringed. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Well,” Oliver straightened clamping Drake’s shoulder. He shook his head. “I don’t know whether to bust your ass or let you wallow in your guilt.”

  “You don’t need to do anything to make me feel worse guilt than I already do.”

  “At least you have the chance to make amends. That is if she’ll see you.”

  “I’ve been doing that.”

  “I know but first things’ first. Leave Harvey and Tabler to me. Make things right with Bethany.”

  “What if she doesn’t believe me?”

  Oliver laughed in amusement. “Seriously, mate? You’re running scared right now? Something must be happening to civilization as I know it.”

  “Screw you, Cray. I’m serious here.” Drake scowled.

  “So am I. Mate, it’s a given you won’t be able to think straight when it comes to the woman you love. So, Rosen, focus.” Oliver paused, his shoulders shaking a little from his laughing trip. “Where do you think she’ll be?”

  * * *

  Drake sat inside his car. If he pulled once more on his hair, he’d be bald before the year was over. But when Bethany began pulling at his hair when his face was between her legs…

  Drake groaned and swore at the same time. How could he think of being between her legs at this crucial time when it could be hit or bust for him the next time he saw Bethany?

  After leaving The Retreat, he drove to the flower shop. It was closed and dark, an isolated black square in the midst of the Northern Quarter’s vibrant night life. Traffic was at a crawl but Drake didn’t mind because it gave him more time to check if Bethany was with Cinzia in the crowd. There was no sign of her.

  Leaving town, Drake headed to Bethany’s house and found Cinzia with Amara. Amara invited him in, unaware of the tension rising between him and Cinzia. She regaled him with stories of her trip to France and the essay she had to write. Drake was listening with only half an ear beginning to worry that Bethany still hadn’t come home.

  Drake faced Cinzia. “Please I need to know where she is.”

  “Why?” Cinzia snapped under her breath, looking at the kitchen where Amara was opening the tin of her grandmother’s cookies. “So you can hurt her again? No.”

  Drake’s lips thinned. There was no getting anywhere with Bethany’s friend. While he appreciated that they were protective of her, now wasn’t really the time to apply the six layers of red tape.

  Amara returned to the living room. “Mum, going to be here in…” she looked at the wall clock between the lounge and the dining area. “Less than an hour now. You’re welcome to wait.”

  Cinzia remained tight lipped. Amara appeared to be in a good mood. Drake would have gloated except that Cinzia’s glare had started to unnerve him.
He was convinced that if Cinzia had a pair of shears in her hands, she’d have cut his cock and sewed it onto his forehead.

  “Thanks Amara but I think I’ll wait in the car.”

  “Suit yourself.” Amara shrugged while climbing the stairs two at a time. “See you in a bit.”

  No sooner had he stepped out than Cinzia slammed the door behind him, making him wince.

  Yeah, he so fucking deserved that.

  A car’s headlights pierced the gloom. Drake straightened from slouching.

  A black cab.

  Heaving a huge breath, he was about to make himself comfortable when the taxi halted and the cab’s interior light illuminated Bethany.

  Drake rubbed his hand down his face and a low hum of shame invaded his stomach. Bethany’s face was tired and crestfallen. Her back was curved inward as though she was trying to protect something in front of her.

  Or she was hurting.

  He got out of his car watching Bethany walk towards the house almost dragging her feet. She hadn’t heard him from across the street. Drake knew from experience that anything Bethany couldn’t see was also something she wouldn’t be able to hear even with her hearing aid on.

  Dread trickled down his spine and he found it hard to breathe. He could go inside the octagon against the meanest bastards who were sometimes taller and bulkier than he was and he’d eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with snacks in between. Bethany only had to give him one pain laced gaze and he’d throw in the towel.

  He was so fucking screwed.

  But he’d go to the gates of hell and back if that was what it took to get Bethany back. Wasn’t there some Greek dude who did the same thing? He wasn’t a fan of History or Mythology but he remembered that Greek character who went to Hades to get the love of his life back only to lose her once more when he looked over his shoulder to see if she was following. If he was in the same situation, he’d keep looking straight ahead, keep going, keep walking until they were a distance from Hades and when he was sure Bethany was finally out.

  Because Drake loved her. Loved her from the moment she had mustered almost all of her courage into that one shaking skinny body to ask him to be her friend. Loved her from the moment he experienced the electricity zapping his skin when they had accidentally brushed against each other. Cherished her when she had stayed with him through his darkest moods after another night sleeping in a house that was no longer his home. Worshipped her the moment her face broke into a smile for him. Only for him.

  Bethany’s face had been his symbol of hope when he had nowhere to go. The face he looked forward to seeing in his dreams when he had no place to sleep except the streets. The visage he focused on when he got pummelled in the cage, his blood dripping into his eyes and scaring the bejeezus out of him because Bethany had known how to stop him from passing out at the sight of his own blood. She was his goddess, and the humiliation and ridicule he had to face to get where he was, his sacrifice.

  Nothing would ever change that.

  Drake crossed the street as he beeped the car lock. From outside looking in, he watched Cinzia talk with Bethany whose arms were crossed around herself as she slowly paced the living room. Drake looked away, his body growing cold with remorse. He stepped in front of the door, rang the bell before jamming his hands pockets of his Levi’s.

  Cinzia opened the door, her face cold and eyes narrowed into pits of fire.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Step aside, Cinzia.” His voice softly edged with steel. “I’m going to make it right. What she saw isn’t what she thought she saw.”

  Cinzia lifted her chin, her eyes still flashing but there was worry in them too.

  “Please.”

  “Drake?” Bethany appeared behind Cinzia. Drake swore inwardly at the telltale puffiness of her eyes. “Amara is upstairs.”

  “I know,” he said quietly, wanting to barge inside and take her in his arms. “The last thing I want is to upset her too.”

  Cinzia’s glare was enough to melt the ice caps in both poles. Drake stood his ground. She turned to face Bethany who nodded. With a sigh, she stepped aside to let him in.

  “Drake!”

  Amara bounced down the stairs in a loose t-shirt and shorts, her face breaking into an easy smile.

  “Hey Mum, Drake’s been waiting for you.” She breezed through the wall of tension encircling the three adults. “Don’t mind me. I’m just getting something to drink. It’s pretty late for you to still keep waiting.”

  She made her way to the kitchen.

  “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow,” Drake called.

  They all eased into the living room.

  “Anyone for tea or coffee?” Amara poked her head from the side of the kitchen. The sound of water boiling became white noise that didn’t do anything to ease the uncomfortable silence.

  “I’m going so none for me, thanks.” Cinzia slid her arms into her coat before taking her purse.

  “Mum? Drake?”

  “We’re fine.”

  Drake’s lips flattened that Bethany answered for them both but didn’t utter a word.

  “I left the books on the desk,” Bethany said. “The bar’s running low on food too. We’ll need to replenish our stock.”

  “I’ll get to it. Justine is a good understudy since we’ve been spending a bit more time on the flower shop.” Cinzia let her glance fall on Drake and said in a low voice. “Don’t hurt her any more than you already have.”

  Heat rose up Drake’s face making him feel like shit. Nudging his head in acknowledgement, he waited until Cinzia closed the front door. Bethany turned away just as Amara appeared.

  “Goodnight, adults.” Amara winked. “Don’t stay up too late.”

  “Amara…” Bethany groaned.

  “Oh mum, I love you.” She tiptoed to give Bethany a buss on the cheek. “Goodnight Drake. Oh by the way, I heard what Aunt Cinzia said even if she thought she was whispering. You better fix whatever it is between you and my mum because if not, I’m not averse in calling you an arsehole or dickhead every time I see you, which I hope is never if you hurt her after this.”

  “Amara!” Bethany gasped white with shock before colour suffused her face.

  Drake blinked, stunned at the curse words and the attitude. Amara still had her sweet smile but hurt and anger swirled in her eyes.

  Drake crossed his arms and averted his gaze. Amara’s dressing down was nothing compared to his self-loathing. Grudging respect and admiration filled him at the way Amara stood up for her mum. His mouth quirked.

  “You have my word.”

  Wariness continued to flicker in Amara’s gaze until she finally relented, climbing the stairs to her room.

  “I mean it!” Amara’s voice floated down to them.

  Bethany groaned, shaking her head before walking away.

  “Bee,” he took one step.

  “Drake, you just wasted time coming all the way here. I’m just about to fall flat on my face.” Bethany slumped down on the sofa, elbows on her knees, one hand pushing away her hair from her forehead.

  Drake wanted nothing more than to cradle her close to his side and let her sleep in his arms.

  “I need to explain.”

  “Explain what?” Her huffed chuckle didn’t match the hurt in her gaze.

  “Gemma…She and I...There’s nothing between us. What you saw…I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I saw.” Her lips flattened and she looked away but not before he saw the flare of jealousy. Stupid as it was, Drake was glad. That meant she cared.

  “Then look at me and tell me it doesn’t matter.”

  Her head whipped back, annoyance darkening her eyes. “Drake, believe me I understand. You don’t have to explain yourself to me or what Gemma means to you.”

  “She doesn’t—” he growled low in frustration. “That’s the fucking point. It matters that you need to know.”

  In one step he was in fr
ont of her on one knee, making her gasp. “You have every right to know. Haven’t I made it abundantly clear that you are the one for me? The only, one unless you’ve got a clone hiding somewhere. I’d still go for the original.”

  A giggle burst out of Bethany before she drew in a huge breath. She stared at him and Drake wanted to drown into those confused blue depths and make the surface smooth once more. He cupped the back of her neck, his fingers kneading gently at the tension he found there.

  Bethany closed her eyes, her breath departing her lips. Her hand circled his wrist before sliding up and down his forearm. Drake closed the gap between them to cover her mouth with his. Bittersweet relief eased back into his heart and soul when she opened up. She was his home, his love, and his life. He sipped from her sweetness, the lingering taste of sweet liquor on her mouth made Drake slip and slide his tongue against hers. Drake raised his head of a moment, drinking in the smooth skin of her face, the sweep of her lashes that fringed eyes slowly filling waking to a hunger that he also felt.

  “You taste like Amaretto,” he murmured. He moved further into her open thighs, flushing his needy body against hers. He licked the seam of her lips before darting away when Bethany followed. She laughed softly

  “Amaretto…you like?” she pillowed his chest against her breasts, curling her arms around his waist.

  “I definitely like,” he murmured before he slanted his mouth across hers that sent his pulse racing and his body heating.

  Bethany pulled him closer between her legs until his shaft felt her heat. They shared a kiss filled with need, a balm that healed the ache inside Drake’s chest. A pain fuelled by remorse that refused to leave. Bethany leaned back and in no time they were both lying on the sofa. Drake refused to release her, making damn sure that each kiss he gave peeled away Bethany’s doubts and hurts. When she moved her mouth away reaching for air, he made a foray across her cheek to graze his teeth against her throat and suck the pulse at the base of her neck. Drake was hard as steel, and Bethany’s moans pushed more desire into his already engorged cock.

  The click of a door locking sounded like a gunshot that had them both pulling away from each other like guilty teenagers. Disoriented and with blood rushing to his head at the sudden change of his body’s direction, Drake blinked several times to bring everything into focus after falling head over heels in love with making out with Bethany. His heart thundered inside his ribs as he huffed a laugh. Bethany did the same. They looked at each other and soon they were laughing uncontrollably unable to stop because as soon as they did another upsurge caused them to laugh even harder. They fell into each other’s arms in their mirth until remnants of it subsided into silence.