5. Five

Five

I sweep a scrutinising gaze around the Orangery to check all the customers have left and the empties have been collected before closing the doors behind me. A couple of women are still chatting on a table in the corner of the bar. There are always a few who refuse to listen to last orders and try to draw the night out until the very end. But I'm exhausted. My feet are burning in protest from being squeezed in black patent heels all day. They need to drink up. We've got homes to go to.

I give them my most professional smile. "Excuse me, ladies. Last orders were called twenty minutes ago, and we're closing up now. Could you finish your drinks and be on your way, please?"

The women shoot me begrudging looks as they neck the remainders of their pink cocktails and head off. Finally. After a busy four hours, the bar is empty.

I collect up the glasses and stack them inside the plastic glass carrier on the bar that's brimming with empties .

Olly looks up from wiping down the counter. "Thanks, Soph."

"It's been a good night," I say, glancing around the bar.

At its busiest, the place was three deep with customers waiting to be served.

"Manic. I was worried we were going to run out of vodka at one point. The old favourites were in demand, but a few of my own concoctions were a hit too." He grins.

"Glad to hear it. Does that mean I'm going to be asked to test out a few more prototypes for you?"

He smirks. "Who else is going to trust me enough not to poison them?"

I laugh. "Oh, come on. Your drinks are amazing."

He flings the cleaning cloth down on the counter. "Thanks for this. I know these evenings were all your idea, and I know you talked me up to Art. I think that persuaded him to give me a chance." He ruffles a hand through his hair. "I dunno. I got the impression he wasn't particularly keen on me when he first arrived. I think you helped change his mind, so thanks."

"You're talented. You deserve to be given an opportunity to showcase your skills."

His cheeks turn pink at the praise, but before he can reply, a petite blonde in jeans and a red jumper appears in the entrance to the bar, looking around, as if she were lost.

"Sorry, the bar's closed," I say automatically.

"No, Soph, it's okay. She's not a customer. This is Holly," says Olly.

She breaks into a broad smile at the introduction and blushes as he leans over the bar and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

"She's come to give me a lift home."

"Hol, this is Sophie. She's the wedding planner here."

"Hi, Sophie. Nice to meet you." Holly smiles.

Olly and Holly. How cute.

"Nice to meet you."

My eyes scan the empty tables and crate of dirty glasses at the end of the bar. "Listen, I'll finish up here, if you like. You both get off home. "

He looks from Holly to me. "Are you sure?"

"Of course. Don't keep Holly waiting." I smile. "Now, go on, before I change my mind."

The digital clock on the centre console of the car ticks over to midnight as I pull up outside the apartment and cut the engine. My eyes sting from tiredness and driving in the dark. I'm beat. I want to grab a quick shower, go to bed, and wrap myself around Art whenever he gets home from the club. Other than a text from him a few hours ago, asking me how the evening was going, I've heard nothing since. He's clearly busy. And I haven't asked him why he needed to go to the club tonight. Part of me doesn't want to know the details. I'll only worry. The sooner he transfers the ownership over to Big Steve, the better, in my view.

I climb out of the car, swing my handbag onto my shoulder, and lock the door. The sound of rustling from behind me cuts through my concentration, and I spin round. The garden of the house opposite is defined by neatly trimmed hedges and wrought iron railings. I glance across the road, but there's no movement anywhere, and the street is deserted.

It's dark. It's late. I'm knackered, and my mind's playing tricks on me.

For God's sake, get a grip.

I turn back around, fumbling to open my handbag to put my keys away.

"Sophie."

The loud clink of metal hitting concrete resonates through the silent street as my keys fall through my fingers.

Every muscle in my body tenses at the sound of the past calling my name. I look round wildly .

Panic morphs into fear, and I'm paralysed, rooted to the spot. Theo stands a few yards in front of me. When I don't reply, he takes a step forward, shifting beneath the glow of the streetlamp. He's not as athletically built as Art but matches him in height. His black trousers and jacket mean he blends easily into the night. The only colour comes from his corn-blond hair, which is longer on top and fashionably messy. Faint blond scruff adorns his jaw. He looks in better shape than the last time I saw him, and he's lost weight. Abstinence must be suiting him. That is, of course, if what he wrote in the letter is true.

His eyes fix on me as he takes another step forward.

This time, I match it with a step back and tighten my grip around my handbag to stem the trembling in my hands. Him being this close to me makes me a bundle of nerves. I'm not letting him see that though. I'm determined not to let him have that victory.

"It's good to see you."

"What are you doing here?"

"Did you get my letter?"

"I said, what are you doing here?" I snap.

"I said in my letter, I'd like to speak to you, meet you, talk things through …"

My initial fear gives way to anger. "Yeah, and meeting me would involve a mutual agreement, wouldn't it, not just turning up at fucking midnight? And why the hell would I want to see you?"

Theo drops his head and kicks the heel of his black boot across the pavement. "I still care about you."

A short, sharp laugh of disbelief falls from my lips. "You're fucking delusional."

"Now, now, Sophie. There's no need for bad language."

His patronising tone grates on me. This is exactly how he used to speak to me when we were together. Like he knew best.

"Fuck you," I say on purpose. "I've nothing to say. Leave."

His gaze hardens. "I said in my letter how sorry I am for what I did. I know I've not been an angel, but I've never killed a man. "

My blood turns to ice in my veins. He can't be referring to what I think he's referring to. He can't possibly know.

I force my voice to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A familiar look of irritation flashes in his eyes. "He's Art Black, isn't he? Quite the catch, by all accounts. Apart from that time he got pissed up and killed that guy. Drunk drivers, eh? Bastards." His thin lips break out into an evil smile. "That must have been a bit of a blow when he told you. Given what happened to your dad, eh, Soph?"

A feeling of renewed panic grips me. How could he possibly know about Art's past? Art said that had all been hushed up.

Theo takes another step forward, and I shift back. I don't want him coming any closer. My eyes dart to my car across the road. If I make a dash for it, his long legs are bound to catch me, and I'll never get there in time. He's standing in between me and the apartment. I'm stuck.

"You're happy to shack up with a killer, but you won't spare me the time of day. You've known this guy for five minutes. We were together four years."

"Art's nothing like you. At least he's never hurt me."

His body stiffens at my retort. "Yeah, you're right; he's nothing like me. I'm not a killer. I thought old Martin and Sue deserved to know the truth, but they weren't having any of it." He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "I did try to warn them."

My hands ball into fists at the mention of my parents. He always knows which buttons to push. "You leave them alone. Don't you dare contact them again. Don't you dare come here again either."

He smirks in the knowledge that he's getting to me. "Why not? I'm not doing anything wrong. We're just having a chat. Nothing more, sweetheart."

"I'm not your fucking sweetheart," I hiss. "And don't play the innocent with me. You've sent me a letter; you've turned up where I live. This is bloody harassment, and if I see you again, I'll call the police." Adrenaline has taken over fear and panic. I'm furious. How dare he reappear in my life now and try to mess things up for me .

The evil smile on his face dissolves at my threat. "Have you ever heard of the six degrees of separation theory?"

He's insane.

"No? There's a theory that says everyone on the planet is connected to every other person through a chain of acquaintances with no more than five links. I find it quite comforting. See, you've spent these past three years thinking you cut me out of your life when, really, we're still linked." He shakes his head. "Even if you don't realise it."

What the fuck does that mean?

My heartbeat thuds in my ears at his menacing words. But I'm determined not to let him see how he affects me. He had that satisfaction for too long while we were together. I'm not that Sophie anymore. But he's still the same Theo.

"You haven't changed a bit."

"I have changed," he insists. "I'm a better man. I've stopped drinking and smoking. You always hated me drinking and smoking, didn't you?"

My stomach turns over. The pungent smell of cigarettes dominates my nightmares. I swallow down the bile threatening to rise in my throat at the memories and look him straight in the eye. "I didn't have a problem with you drinking. I had a problem with what you did to me when you were drunk."

My response wipes the smirk off his face, and he lowers his eyes to the pavement, as though he's unable to look at me. "Until we sit down and talk, things just keep going round and round in my head. I've things I need to say to you …"

"You're fucking crazy. Why would I want to sit and listen to what you've got to say?"

"And I know there will be things you want to say to me," he carries on, ignoring me. "One day, you were there, and the next minute, you were gone. I didn't know what to do. We'd been together years. I met someone else last year. She was nice and caring and wanted to be with me. But I was still in love with you. And do you know what happened?" He shakes his head angrily. "I destroyed her. Don't you think you owe me? You're the reason I can't find happiness with anyone else."

Bastard .

"You destroyed her because that's what you do to everyone," I spit. "No matter how you think you've changed, you're just the same. You've got a black heart, rotten to the core. I'm never going to talk to you about any of it, Theo. Give it up."

He cuts his eyes as he realises that he's not going to get what he wants. "I really wish you hadn't said that."

There's a shuffling noise from behind him, and he spins around. For a split second, I hope it's Art and then realise he's still at work. Relief crashes through me as I see Derek, the concierge, standing on the front steps of the apartment block. He eyes Theo suspiciously. Of course. The CCTV. He must have noticed us on the security cameras outside the front of the building.

"Is everything okay, Miss Ward?"

Theo throws me a resigned look, sensing his time's up. He jams his hands into the pockets of his jacket and skulks off up the street. I watch him until he disappears into the darkness, out of sight. I need to know he's gone.

"Miss Ward?" Derek looks at me expectantly and gestures towards the entrance doors. "Would you like me to accompany you inside?"

I let out a long exhale. I wasn't even aware I'd been holding my breath. I can hear the words but can't process a response. Now that Theo's gone, shock has replaced anger. My legs feel like jelly as adrenaline kicks in, and I know I need to move before I collapse. There's no way I'm sitting in an empty apartment all on my own after what just happened.

I bend down and scoop up my car keys with trembling fingers and force my brain to work. "No, thank you, Derek. There's somewhere I need to go."