SAVAGE LOVE

Chapter 19

“No, you did that with your little red wine show.”

“Well, it made me feel a damn sight better for doing it.”

“Good. At least one of us got the result they wanted tonight.”

“You think I wanted to look like a crazy, jealous freak?”

I couldn’t take much more. My head was pounding, and if I didn’t get away soon, I was liable to tell him where he could stick his rehab deal and walk.

“You are the most insufferable man it has ever been my displeasure to meet. I didn’t get the result I wanted tonight. In fact, none of this is what I wanted. If I had my way, I’d be in bed with my boyfriend right now, but no. I’m stuck here arguing with your sorry ass. And you know what? I’m done. I’m not discussing this with you anymore.”

His face went pale and he moved his body as if to stop me from walking towards the front door, but I was heading in the opposite direction to my bedroom.

“Goodnight, Micheal. Hopefully you’ll wake up on the right side of your cage tomorrow and be in a better mood.”

And with that, I turned on my heels and left him to his sulking.

I was coaxed awake gently by the sounds of Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1: Prelude No 1 in C Major, drifting through the apartment. Bathing every corner with its soothing tones and creating a sense of wellness that felt strangely peaceful here in the devil’s lair. A piece of heaven floating over the air, in stark contrast to the aura that the occupant of this home so often created.

The piece caused a painful tug in my heart, as it was as familiar to me as an old friend. My father used to play this every time he felt stressed out, or needed to ground himself after a particularly taxing day at work. I used to sit at his feet and listen as his nimble fingers glided over the keys. More than once he sent me to sleep with the ambient, tranquil state he forged, as the music resonated around the room and into my very soul. It was my favourite classical piece of music because it reminded me of my childhood. It also reminded me of how much I missed my family, my parents, and in particular, my dad.

For years he’d tried to get me to follow in his musical footsteps, and paid for me to have private tuition on the family piano. But I preferred to listen to the music as opposed to playing it myself. I’d always refused to even attempt Bach, because those notes, they belonged to my dad. It was his.

A stray tear rolled down my cheek, but I let it fall. I liked the emotions the music was evoking inside me, and I didn’t want to suppress any of it. Not for one second.

I pushed the bed covers off and, as if mirroring the music around me, I glided over to the door. It was as if I was sleep-walking, but I was one hundred percent awake. The music was sending me into the sweetest trance. I crept out of my room, expecting to see the lights from a music system, or the television. I wasn’t expecting to see Micheal sitting at the piano playing the music himself.

Careful not to alert him to my presence, I leant against the wall, then slid down it to sit and listen undetected. Something told me he wouldn’t appreciate me watching him play. There was no music in front of him to follow; he was playing the piece from memory, just like my dad used to. I was mesmerised watching him. How could someone who exacted such violence and terror in his day-to-day life play with such beauty and grace?

The expression on his face as he played was one of pure passion and concentration. His eyes were closed, and he bowed his head as his fingers skated over the keys, caressing them as he played with expert precision. His body was relaxed and his shoulders were moving in time with the glide of his hands. Was this his way of de-stressing after a day of bloodshed and brutality? This all felt surreal to me. I was having trouble equating everything I already knew about Micheal Douglas to this stunning maestro sitting before me. I could’ve listened to him play all day.

It struck me then how it didn’t bother me that he was playing my father’s song. In fact, he played it with as much, if not more vigour and perfection than he did, if that was possible. How ironic that the man to cause me so much misery and heartache was now soothing me with his talents. Was he trying to make amends with his melody? Whatever he was doing, it was working. I was the most relaxed I’d been in days. The music came to an end, and he opened his eyes to peer down at the keys he’d just played, as if in wonder of how they’d created such a blissful tune. I didn’t want to taint the harmonious ambience he’d crafted, so I lifted myself from the floor and floated back to my room in a daze of contentment and confusion. I also swore that the minute my parents were back in the country, I’d reach out to them.

It was no surprise that when I woke up in the morning, Micheal had already left for work. It must’ve been Clare’s day off, because the apartment was deadly silent and the coffee in the machine was stone cold. I helped myself to some toast and made a fresh pot of coffee, then tried to occupy myself with a new box set on Netflix, but I was restless. I wanted to get out there and start working, be a useful member of society. My grandma had always told me that everyone had to have a purpose for their day. I was no pampered princess. I liked to keep busy.

I looked around at the pristine apartment and decided cleaning was pointless. Clare kept this place looking immaculate. So what to do with my day? I took to the shower to freshen up and decide what the day had in store for me.

I figured I must be a glutton for punishment, because after exhausting all ideas, all I could think about was going to Micheal’s club and seeing if I could make myself useful there. The lure of finding out his deepest, darkest secrets was too great a pull for me. After being woken by his piano playing last night, I couldn’t deny I felt intrigued by him. Plus, the idea of spending a bit more time getting under his skin and annoying the crap out of him had its merits.

I took a cab into the city and had the driver drop me off at the back of the club. The doors were wide open as a delivery had just arrived, and men were busy moving boxes into the store room at the back of the building. I smiled and strode forwards with purpose as if I was meant to be there and made my way into the main area of the club undetected to find staff stocking shelves and cleaning.

“Need any help?” I asked a guy carrying a crate of beer bottles up from the cellars.

“Yeah, always. You the new girl?” He eyed me suspiciously, as if he doubted my ability to pick up anything heavy or do any kind of manual work.

“That depends on who’s asking. What do you need me to do?”

He stacked the crate on top of another by the fridges behind the bar and pointed at them.

“Fridges need restocking. Only you need to take the ones from the back and put them at the front, you know, to keep the rotation fresh. Think you can manage that?”

“It’ll be tough, but I’ll give it a whirl.” What a douche. I think I was capable of putting some bottles onto shelves in a fridge.

“When you’ve done that, there’s a mountain of glasses that need putting through the washer out back. There’s an apron somewhere under the bar.”

He bent down to try to find an apron for me, but I ushered him away, letting him know I was fine and could manage to do those jobs without one.

“Friendly bunch he’s got working here,” I muttered under my breath, and a deep laugh alerted me to someone else’s presence behind me.

“Williams’s an

ignorant asshole, but we aren’t all like that.”

The guy on the other side of the bar was a mountain of a man. He stood towering over me and his frame eclipsed the rest of the room, but he smiled like a child who’d just seen the ice cream truck go past on a hot day.

“I’m Collins. I do security here. You must be Grace, the new barmaid.”

I didn’t correct him. I’d happily take Grace’s shift today if she was new. She’d need all the help she could get with this crowd. I guessed Collins was an angel, though.

“Anything you need, just holler. We’re a good bunch here. Mr Douglas runs a tight ship, but he’s a good boss. You won’t regret coming to work here. Despite what your first impressions of Williams are, don’t let that cloud your judgement of the rest of us.”

I took Collins’s outstretched hand and winced as he gripped my miniscule hand in his like he was crushing rocks.

“Do you drive?” he asked.

“Err, no not at the moment. I haven’t had chance to get a car. I got a cab over here today.”

Collins nodded to himself. “Get receipts if you call your own cab, but just so you know, we have a cab company we use for our employees. Mr Douglas likes to make sure all of his staff get home safely after a shift. Just let me know when you’re clocking off and I’ll sort that out for you, Grace.”

How very baffling. So Micheal was happy to send thugs to an apartment at three a.m. to scare the hell out of the occupants, but he’d make sure everyone got a free cab home to keep them safe when they’d done a day’s work for him. Could this guy be any more of a conundrum?

Collins gave me a captain’s salute as he pushed off from the bar and wandered back over to the doors leading to the back of the club. Today was certainly becoming quite the eye opener for me.

I restocked every fridge, wiping down the shelves as I did. Then I took the crates with the surplus stock back towards the cellar, where Williams was busy doing whatever it was he was working on.

“Thanks. I’ll take those back down the stairs. Wouldn’t want you breaking a nail,” Williams said snidely.

Exasperated by his comment, I plonked the crates onto the floor and held my nails up in front of my face.

“Sure thing. I gotta keep my nails looking sharp, haven’t I? I mean, what else would I use to defend myself from all the bitches here?”

“Whatever. Have you started those glasses yet? Or is that too much for the delicate skin on your hands to cope with?”

Boy, Williams was the biggest b***h of them all.

“Oh, I can cope with a lot, Williams. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.”

I’d done bar work before to help pay my way through university. Not that I’d told my family, but it felt good to earn some money of my own. Plus, it kept me focused on something other than missing Justin, and the long distance crap that we’d endured. The dishwasher they used here was a higher spec than the one I was used to, but it was easy enough. Load the tray up with glasses, pull the hatch down, wait for the green light to show the wash was over, and then take the tray out and leave it to drain. Not rocket science, but Williams would probably make out that it was.

I’d just run what felt like the hundredth tray through the washer, and was carrying it to the back of the kitchens to a free space to dry, when I heard a familiar voice.

“I thought I told you never to come here again.”

I placed the tray slowly onto the side and peered around the back door of the kitchens to see Michealstanding with his back to me. At first I couldn’t see who he was talking to, but as he moved to the side, I recognised the other guy Vin, the unwanted house guest. The one who’d threatened us in our apartment that night, and the one who, according to Justin, was doing Micheal’s debt recovery.

“What, I’m not welcome here anymore?” He had a cocky air to him, and he was enjoying pushing Micheal, I could tell.

“No, you’re not f*****g welcome. I already told you, I don’t want you anywhere near my home or my club. I paid you to do a job. It’s over. So you need to disappear back to the sewers you came from.” Micheal took another step closer to this Vin character. “If you can’t manage that, I can arrange to make you disappear another way.”

He reached behind and under his suit jacket and pulled out a hand gun, then held it up, pointing it straight at Vin’s face.

“You seriously think you can threaten me?” Vin laughed then moved a step forward, forcing the gun to push against his forehead like some kind of gangster movie stand-off. He had balls, I’d give him that.

“It’s the only f*****g language you understand,” Michealbarked. “You had no problems threatening a woman not long ago, remember? I won’t warn you again. Stay. Away.”

Vin huffed in displeasure and pushed the gun out of his face. “So I’m exiled now, huh? You gonna talk s**t about me too? f**k with my business?”

“You got paid, didn’t you? Job done. I have no use for you or your s**t. Leave. Before I do something I won’t regret.”