Page 27 of Alfie, Darling

‘A get-together in the bar. You were stinking it out.’

I sank back against the edge of the small tub, closing my eyes and letting the heat envelop me like a moist hug. A few minutes passed in silence before there was a knock on the door. Petros answered it, keeping an eye on me while taking a paper bag from someone on the other side.

He handed it to me along with a paper cup with a straw poking out.

‘Eat,’ he said, retaking his position on the wooden chair.

My cuffed hands made putting the cup down on the floor difficult. After placing it beside the bath, I peered into the grease-soaked bag. It contained two burgers and a large portion of fries. They were still hot, and their salty, greasy smell made my mouth water. The idea that she could well have poisoned then flitted through my mind, I’d caught the gist from the discussions about the MP who died. I’d heard enough to know it hadn’t been her first dabble with poison. My stomach growled at my hesitation, and I figured that death by burger was better than nothing.

Flavour exploded in my mouth. I’d never been one for regularly eating cheap takeout, only really when I was with friends who wanted to, but it was the most glorious thing I’d ever tasted. I made quick work of the first burger, before devouring the second. My stomach protested when I added the fizzy cola to the mix, the sugar sending waves of delight through me. I’d eaten so little in the previous days that I knew I was in danger of throwing it all up. I still started on the salty fries, their slight sogginess not remotely putting me off.

‘Is this a guilt meal?’ I said when I was halfway through the food.

‘How about just fucking eating it?’

I shrugged and stuffed some more fries into my mouth, groaning at the salt-laden potato-y heaven.

‘She needs something I don’t think you can give her.’ I put the empty wrapper on the floor after hoovering up the last of the fries and sat back in the bath. Petros fought the urge to reply, his fingers clenching the stock of his gun as his mouth opened and then closed.

‘What?’ he asked, curiosity winning out.

‘I’ve met, and slept with, a lot of people over the past twenty years. Some come to my hedonistic resort to spice up their lives, others to live out fantasies. But some come looking to heal. Some people who go through extreme abuse crave elements of it in a scenario they can control, to deal with it in a way.’

Petros’ jaw ticked, and his eyes narrowed. ‘She doesn’t want to be hurt. I saw her go through that, it tore her apart every fucking day.’

‘There’s every chance I’m wrong, but I don’t think so. You protect her, and you saw her in the worst situations, right?’

A curt nod was all the answer I got.

‘She doesn’t want you to see her like that again. To know she might need that. She probably thinks you’ll look down on her. You’ve worked hard all this time to help her out of the situation.’

He pursed his lips while I spoke, his dark eyes fixed on my face while his fingers gripped his gun in a way that made me want to duck out of the way. But he was listening. This was the closest I’d got to getting someone onside.

‘I can’t do that to her,’ he said, finally.

‘I know. But she needs what you are giving her too. She needs to feel loved. To be worshipped. To have that person who knows the softer side that I’m sure she must have somewhere beneath the anger.’ The water sloshed around me as I sat up, putting my elbows on the edge of the bath and resting my chin on one hand, the other dangling, still cuffed.

Petros seemed to snap out of the conversation, his face flushing as he suddenly stood.

‘Get out. It’s time to go.’

The chill hit me as soon as I got up, and I only hoped the tenuous bridge I was trying to form with him would hold.

Because Lord help me, I needed it to.

SEVENTEEN

PETROS

The bar area was beginning to thin out at long last. Being present tonight had proved nigh on impossible as Alfie’s words had plagued my head like a pesky group of biting mosquitoes. Stealing a glance at Harriet, for what must have been the millionth time that night, I watched the way she chatted with Nancy and a few of the others. Her body language was relaxed and open in a way that I knew was false. She gave the impression of being easy going and in control, but I’d been there on the nights when she fell apart as soon as we got back to our private rooms. I’d seen her take a baseball bat to a piece of furniture, unable to stop until it was obliterated into a thousand tiny pieces.

It was all an act.

Could she be hiding the fact she craved darker desires? And why couldn’t I be comfortable fulfilling them? The thought of closing my fingers around her throat in the way I had done to Alfie gave me a visceral reaction. My stomach heaved at the thought of inflicting any pain on her. I’d been forced to witness the abuse she and others had suffered for years. There wasn’t a chance I could emulate it, even if I knew Harriet needed it.

Pain lashed at my chest as I came to a realisation. I’d never be enough for her.

Even if she accepted my adoration, she’d always be wanting more. Needing a man who could reach into her and toy with the darkness within her core

---