6. Six

Six

M y brain switches to autopilot. The car navigates through the dark streets seemingly of its own accord. I've no recollection of driving to Dark Desires, but when I eventually arrive, it's nearly one in the morning. I'm mentally drained. Every muscle in my body aches with tension. Anxiety-induced nausea coils tight in my stomach.

I've tried to call Art, but his phone rang out. He's busy, which makes me want to be here even less. But I can't be at home alone either.

My heels slip on the cobblestones as I head over to the entrance to the club, swearing under my breath. There's not even a friendly, familiar face at the door to greet me. I don't recognise the gruff-looking bouncer. He bobs his head in acknowledgment as I enter the club.

The beat of the dance track pummels through my brain. Two women are twirling around the shiny pole beneath the spotlight onstage, stopping to give each other an exaggerated kiss for the entertainment of the mainly male clientele occupying the tables tonight.

I'm acutely aware my formal grey pencil skirt and white blouse make me stick out like a sore thumb among the dressed-up revellers. I feel even more like I don't belong. I clutch my handbag to my body as if it were a shield and hurry on through the club.

The music fades into the distance as I enter the door marked Staff Only, which I recognise from the time I came here with Art. I silently hope that I don't run into Tara because I'm not sure I could cope with locking horns with her tonight. Just as I remember, the short corridor leads to the Manager's Office. I sag against the door in relief, knock once, and push it open.

I expect to find Art sitting behind the desk, watching the CCTV cameras, but he's not. There's no one here. A cardboard box half-filled with someone's stuff is on the desk. My heart sinks. After the night I've had, I need him—his lips on mine, his arms wrapped around me. I need him to tell me everything's going to be okay because I'm not sure that it is.

I hear a click behind me and spin round.

Jamie, the manager, stands behind the door. His piercing blue eyes rake up my body. My skin crawls.

"Maybe this isn't going to be such a shitty last night after all."

The sneer in his voice and the way he's looking at me put me on edge.

"Where's Art?"

"Fuck knows. He's probably waiting for me to finish packing up my stuff and fuck off."

He's not making any sense.

I glance at the box on the desk. "He's sacked you?"

"Too fucking right he has." Jamie's eyes land on my breasts, and he smirks. "Are you my leaving present?"

I ignore his lewd comment. "Why would he sack you?"

"He had to get involved and stick his nose in where he didn't need to. I was onto a nice little earner too. "

And then I realise. Art's comment the other day about the drug dealer's days being numbered. Him having to work tonight.

"It's you … you're the dealer."

Jamie snorts in amusement. "Not quite, darling, but I've been helping out where I can."

I don't even try to hide the contempt in my voice. What a snake . "You were in on it."

"It was just business."

I narrow my eyes in annoyance. I don't like the club, but I also don't want to see all of Art's hard work go to waste. "Art's hardly going to let the fact that his manager's aiding and abetting criminals to slide, is he?"

"You know, it really fucks me off when he turns up here and swans about the place. He's got it all, hasn't he? The flash car, the money." Jamie's lecherous gaze returns to me, and I tense. "The nice piece of arse on his arm."

I stiffen at his words. "You're crossing the line. If Art …"

"But he's not here, is he?" Jamie slowly shifts towards me. "It's just you and me."

My stomach rolls with nausea as I edge backwards. He's built like a wall. I don't stand a chance.

"You said Art's given you time to pack up your stuff. That means, he'll be back soon," I announce bravely.

His thin lips widen into a smirk. "It won't take me long to get what I want, darlin"."

My behind presses into the edge of the desk, and panic grips me. I'm cornered. My eyes dart over to the TV monitors in desperation, frantically searching for any signs of Art. Where the fuck is he?

"If you touch me, I swear …"

"No one's gonna hear you over the music. And they definitely won't hear with my hand over your mouth."

Over my dead body .

Jamie lunges at me, and I knee him hard in the balls. He groans and crumples forward. I'm getting good at this. Adrenaline kicks in. I fly over to the door and grab the handle. But I'm not quick enough. I scream as he grabs my ponytail and throws me against the wall. The force of my body slamming into concrete pushes all the air from my lungs, and for a second, I'm left dazed. Jamie doesn't waste any time. He's on me, pushing himself against me, trapping me between him and the wall.

"You're just a fucking prick tease, like the rest of them out there."

His hot, unpleasant breath hits my cheek, and I twist my face away from him.

He tears open my blouse. "Slags, the whole lot of you."

I'm exhausted. But I'm not going to let him win. I plunge my fingernails into his face and drag them down his cheek.

"Bitch!" He recoils in pain and clutches his face, staggering back.

If he gets hold of me again, he'll make sure I can't get away. I rush to the door just as it flies open, and Art and Big Steve barge in.

I watch Art's expression change from surprise to shock as he rests his hands on my shoulders and looks at my torn blouse. His spine stiffens as he notices Jamie behind me, and reality kicks in.

The next five seconds happen in a blur. Art launches at Jamie and grabs him by the throat, hurling him across the room. Then, he's on top of him on the floor, raining down punch after punch as Jamie tries to defend himself.

I avert my eyes and clutch my torn blouse to cover my bra.

"Are you okay, Sophie?" Big Steve places a consoling hand on my shoulder.

The crack of bone against bone sends panic slicing through me. Art's still pounding into Jamie, who's long since given up trying to fight back. I feel sick. The red mist has descended. I've never witnessed this side of him, and I don't like it.

"Make him stop," I plead.

Big Steve looks worried. He grabs Art's shoulders and tries to pull him off, but he angrily shrugs him away.

"Fucking hell, mate, leave it. You don't want to kill him. "

Art carries on punching Jamie as if he hadn't heard him. The sight of blood splattering onto the TV screens shreds my last nerve.

"Stop!" I scream.

Art's hand freezes mid-punch.

Thank God he's stopped.

He continues to glare at Jamie as he gets to his feet.

"Sort him out." He turns to Big Steve. "Put him in the police car that's waiting for him and fuck him off."

Big Steve grabs Jamie under the arms and hauls him to his feet. His face is bruised and covered in blood. My stomach turns. I lower my eyes to the floor, unable to look. Big Steve slings his arm around Jamie's shoulders and walks him out of the office.

Art cups my jaw with his hands and tilts my chin up, forcing me to look at him. Worried eyes search my face. "You're trembling. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head and tell him what happened.

"Shh." He strokes his thumbs across my cheeks, soothing me.

The blinkered, anger-fuelled Art from a few moments earlier has vanished.

Did I imagine it?

The sight of blood on his hands tells me I didn't.

I swallow hard. "I wasn't going to let him …"

Art briefly closes his eyes like he's banishing the thought from his mind and presses a kiss to my forehead. "How come you're here?"

"I tried calling you."

"I'm sorry. I haven't had much of a chance to look at my phone. I've been sorting out this shit with Jamie tonight."

I hesitate. After the horrific scene I just witnessed, I'm worried what his reaction will be to hearing Theo's turned up. I've already had to make him promise he won't do anything stupid where Theo's concerned. But there's no way I can't tell him.

"Theo."

Art keeps perfectly still, looking at me and waiting for me to carry on .

"He was outside the apartment when I got back from work. I didn't want to be alone."

His jaw stiffens as he takes in what I said. "Did you speak to him?"

I nod.

"What did he say?"

I take a shaky breath in. "Lots of things."

Art shakes his head, pulls off his jacket, and places it around my shoulders to cover my ripped blouse. He takes my hand. "Come on. I need to get you home. We'll talk more in the car. We can pick yours up in the morning."