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Within a breath, Alfie had pivoted in his tracks and walked into the commotion of the pub.
God damnit.
Petros stepped back, leaving the cold air to fill the gulf between us.
‘How is he always so fucking unpredictable?’ I asked.
‘Either sheer dumb luck or some sort of god is on his side. We can try again another night.’
‘No.’ The word came out in an angry spurt. ‘I’m going in.’
‘Harriet...’
Petros knew damn well that I did what I pleased, and he had the choice to either follow me or stay behind. As always, his footsteps clipped behind me as I made for the door.
The bar was packed with people, intoxicated and brimming with mirth. Bodies swayed to the music of the singer performing on stage, while others flirted, hoping to avoid going home alone.
Where the hell was Alfie?
Scanning the room for his shock of dark hair, tension bubbled up inside me.
‘There,’ Petros said, nodding over to the very end of the bar, behind a group of lads clad in green football shirts.
There indeed.
Up to his usual tricks, making eyes at the red-headed singer who was lapping up his attention. She had no fucking idea what a good-for-nothing nepo dickhead he was.
Spoiled.
Rotten.
My blood pressure soared with each minute I stood idly, waiting for Alfie to leave. I discreetly used my phone camera to take a picture of him from behind while he stared at the vocalist, swiftly tucking it back into my pocket.
‘You can’t just stand there, shooting eye daggers into the back of his skull.’ Petros pushed a glass into my hand that I didn’t bother even looking at. He knew I wouldn’t take a drink in a bar.
One drink had ruined my entire life.
The condensation-clad glass was cold against my tightly gripped fingers.
‘We need to look inconspicuous,’ Petros whispered near my ear, his voice fighting the way through my rage as it so often did. ‘Need to be unmemorable.’
My breath shuddered in my chest as I inhaled slowly, trying to replace the white-hot anger with an ounce of Petros’ calm.
When the music stopped some minutes later, the singer walked up to Alfie, lust leaking from her when he leaned in and spoke to her.
With my heart in my throat, I wanted to walk over and slap some sense into her, but she wrapped her tongue around his finger before following him to a door near the back of the room.
‘Let’s just grab him,’ I said, heading towards the door that Alfie and the redhead had disappeared through.
‘We can’t, there are too many witnesses here.’ Petros caught my wrist and gave me a pleading look. My eyes went from him back to the peeling, flyer covered door.
We were so close.
‘He needs to pay. I’m sick of waiting. He’s probably in there fucking that singer as if he’s done nothing wrong. Every orgasm the asshole has is one too many.’
Petros hand slid down to catch my fingers, his solid calmness filtering through his touch. ‘You’ve waited twenty years for this, Harriet. Striking wrong could mean losing your chance for good. A few more days won’t hurt. He needs to disappear without a trace.
With a sigh, I dropped his hand. Petros was right. He was almost always right. The soft breeze to my tempest, reeling me in when it wasn’t yet time to unleash.
