“Will you stop, you fucking idiot. You’ll break your hand.” I swing a punch at Ben, but he dodges it and cracks me right on the jaw with a right hook I don’t even see coming. I actually see stars as my legs buckle. I land on my knees and remain still for a few seconds. “That’s for Georgia, ya cunt. Now go get in the car and grow the fuck up, you selfish prick.” I can hear him breathing heavily as he walks past me. I take a few seconds to compose myself before trying to stand. I swipe at the corner of my mouth and see blood on the side of my finger. I run my tongue over the spot and feel the split in my lip. Fucker. I stomp back to the car and slam the door extra hard as I get back in. We pull off in silence.

I lace my fingers behind my neck and stare up at the roof interior, watching the shadows the other cars on the motorway make with their headlights. Where would she go? I try and think like Georgia would, but that’s impossible. That girl’s brain is unique. They broke the mould when they made her.

“Where’d you want dropping, boss?” Marky asks from the driver’s seat. We’ve driven for the last twenty minutes in silence.

“Right now, off the nearest tall building,” I mumble like a sulky child. Which then gets me to thinking, I don’t want to go back to the new house. I’d rather stay in the city. Marley’s old place is only around the corner from our old apartment. If that’s the last area Georgia was seen, then that’s where I want to be. “Take me to the wharf. I’m not going back to Essex if the paps are all there waiting. Just drop me in the underground garage at the tower.”

* * *

As soon as I walk into the living and kitchen area and the motion sensor lighting comes on, I spot the empty wine glass, then her shoes at the bottom of the stairs. I head up them two at a time. I can smell her, taste her on my tongue, and for some reason, it makes my eyes water. I head along the landing and through the open door of the master suite and she’s there. I have to cover my mouth with my hand so the girly fucking sobbing noises I’m making don’t wake her up.

I lean in the doorway and watch her sleep. She’s curled in the middle of the bed wearing one of my sweatshirts. Her knees are pulled up to her chest as she lays in the foetal position, her long hair fanned out on the pillow beside her. Her mouth is slightly open and she looks as young as she did that very first time she walked into my wine bar, only now, she’s so much more beautiful.

As much as I could stand here watching her sleep, I need to let her family know she’s safe. I should grow some and call Frank, but I just want to shower and crawl into bed with my Kitten, not stand and listen to a three-hour long, Frank Layton lecture, so I call Bailey instead.

“This better be good news,” is all he says.

“I’ve got her. She’s at our apartment at the Wharf.”

“She okay?”

“She’s sleeping. I’ll get her to call her mum in the morning.”

“You do that… and King?” Here we go…

“Yeah?”

“Me and you, I think we need a chat.” I close my eyes and take a long breath.

“It was December, Bails, we weren’t even together.”

“You face fucked a bird in an airport toilet, then turned up at my ol’ man’s declaring undying love for my sister. Like I said, we need to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” I end the call.

* * *

I go into the guest suite to shower, and as I towel myself dry my phone rings. I grab it from the side of the sink quickly, not wanting the sound to wake Georgia up. Tamara’s name shows up on the screen so I silence my phone and ignore the call.

I hate the woman. How she got pregnant is still a complete mystery to me. I’m sure I would’ve noticed if the condom had split the last time I fucked her in Ibiza.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the baby’s mine, I would’ve cut all ties but I can’t. She’s going to be released from the unit she’s been in in the next couple of weeks. I’ve had the best head doctors involved in evaluating her, and they all seemed to agree she’s ready, and she can be trusted with the baby. I’m still not convinced. She may be clean, but that’s only because she’s been locked up and had no access to drugs. Now that she is being given some freedom and allowed out on her own, she is being tested every couple of days. Tamara may be an addict, but she’s also smart and devious and probably prepared to go to great lengths to get out of that place.

I sit down on the edge of the bath and rub my hair dry with a towel, suddenly feeling drained. How do two people manage to attract so much drama in their lives? Sean’s death, the fact that Georgia and I had got together, Tamara having my child, this bird at the airport last year now crawling out the woodwork. Just one thing after another, and all of it, apparently, worth at least a whole page spread in the tabloids.

I knew there would always be press attention surrounding Georgia because of who she was married to, but I never thought the press would turn their attention to every little aspect of my life the way they have.

I let out a long sigh and rub my hand over my beard. I’ve not shaved since I’ve been away. Georgia loves me with a beard, but she hates that in-between stage. She always complains that my whiskers are spiteful and make her nose itch. Funny that she never complains when I scrape them up the inside of her thigh and over her clit. My cock twitches at that thought.

I stand and head towards where she’s sleeping, sitting as quietly as I can next to her on the bed. I gently brush her hair from her face and watch as she licks her lips. Her phone lights up on the bedside table. It’s obviously on silent and she’s got untold missed calls and messages. Anger boils inside me as I see it’s Tamara trying to call her now, but then I wonder if it’s an emergency with Harry and that’s why Tam’s now calling Georgia’s phone. I walk out to the landing and answer.

“Tamara, what the fuck’s wrong?”

“Cam?”

“Yes, Cam, who the fuck else were you expecting?”

“I… What are you doing? Why are you with her?” Oh, please, this bird seriously gives my arse a headache.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be with her, Tamara? What d’ya want? Is Harry okay?”

“I just thought that with what the papers are saying that—”

“It’s old news,” I cut her off. “The newspapers are reporting on something that happened last year, before Kit… before Georgia and I were back together.” I’m so tired, I just want to fall into bed now, feel Georgia’s skin on mine and go to sleep. “Is the baby okay?” I ask again.

“The baby’s fine, Cam. We miss you.” She’s so full of shit.

“I’ll try and get over to see him tomorrow. Kiss him for me. I need to go.” I end the call before I have to listen to her whiney reply and turn back to the bedroom.

Georgia’s sitting up in the middle of the bed, back against the headboard, her knees pulled up, her arms wrapped around them. The bottom half of her face is resting on her knees and she’s looking over the top of them at me with her big blue eyes.

“Kitten,” I sigh out her name while walking towards her. She raises her head and narrows her eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from me. How’d you know I was here?”

I stop in my tracks. I don’t know why I thought this was going to be easy. This is Georgia I’m dealing with after all. She’s never been known for her reasoning skills when she’s pissed off, or at any other time come to think of it.

“I didn’t know you were here. Everyone’s been worried sick and looking for you.” I’m still wearing nothing but the towel that’s wrapped around my hips and I watch as she looks me up and down. She might be pissed off with me, but she also wants to fuck. I have an instant hard on, but her eyes are back on mine and she hasn’t noticed it yet. “Did you know your phone was on silent? Your family were worried sick. They went to Marley’s place looking for you after Benny said that’s where he dropped you off. The doorman told them you left in a cab…” I feel my jaw tremble. I’m feeling pissed off with her for scaring us all. I’m feeling relieved that she’s okay, and I’m feeling guilty that I’ve caused it all. Fucking feelings, I hate feelings, all of these ones anyway. “No one knew where you were. You did what you do best. You put your phone on silent and ran the fuck away, leaving the rest of us to worry ourselves sick.” I don’t want to shout. I don’t want to be angry with her, and I’m not, not really. I’m angry with myself, with the situation.