Chapter Two

Bexley

I was back again so soon, right where my night out ended. Only this time, in the cold light of day, the Roman city of Chester was bustling with shoppers. Not drunkards. It was almost five o'clock on a Sunday afternoon; the boutiques were getting ready to close for the day but all the restaurants remained accessible. The buskers were all packing up their equipment, counting the loose change that had been tossed into the open guitar cases. Pigeons pecked around for crumbs outside the bakery stores. Shop assistants were dragging in A-frame boards as a subtle hint that they wanted to go home on time, and the shoppers who took notice were all heading for the bus shelters and car parks.

Clutching the strap of my Louis Vuitton handbag, I hurried towards the Grosvenor hotel. It was situated in the city's heart, surrounded by shops, and set next to the iconic Eastgate clock. The multiplex shopping mall was located next door and was connected by a domed roof. It stood in stark contrast to the Grade 2 listed building with its elegant black and white timbered walls that boasted sixty-eight bedrooms, twelve suites, each one full of character and individual appeal. Dad was meeting me in one of the two restaurants: The Simon Radley, which had held a prestigious Michelin star since 1990. He dined here so often, they honoured him with his own table.

The doorman held the door for me to enter, dressed in a black top hat and tails suit. The interior was the epitome of sophisticated luxury, a mix of cream and golden colours with dark wooden furnishings. Dad rose from his seat upon my arrival. He took one look at my smart dress suit and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bexley, darling, how are you?" Dad embraced me and kissed my cheek.

"I'm fine, Dad. How are you?" I inquired, noticing the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Dad always had trouble sleeping this time of year. The pain of losing Mum tore his heart in two. She was the love of his life and he was hers. Dad gave me her pendant on the day she died, saying that I would know what to do with it when the time comes. Mum worked for the military as a code-breaker. That was how they met. Mum used to tell me stories of their time together, the missions they would share, and the problems they had to solve. She used to leave me clues in my schoolbooks or my lunch bag, and if I managed to solve them, I would get a treat at the weekend. Her pendant was nothing more than a small golden cylinder, made up of six rotary charms. To everyone else, the symbols that were etched into them looked like they could be ancient runes, but I knew what each one meant. She had spent years teaching them to me, and now I knew them by heart.

"I miss her, Bexley," he admitted, showing a slight flicker of vulnerability. "But we have to keep moving forward, don't we?"

I nodded in agreement. "We do. Mum wouldn't want us to waste our lives away."

A deep crease formed across Dad's brow. "I know." His gaze faltered and a shadow of sadness veiled his eyes.

The grief had aged him, sucking the vitality from his soul. He was giving up trying, and watching him slowly deteriorate was breaking my heart.

"Have you ordered already?" I asked, suspecting that he'd neglected to eat since goodness knows when.

It was why I was reluctant to move out of the family home, but Dad insisted that I needed my own space. He always encouraged me to be more independent throughout my teens, which was why I am the self-sufficient woman that I am today.

Dad nodded. "Entrées and appetizers," he answered. "I know you like to pick whatever takes your fancy, so I left off main course and dessert."

"Dessert? Now you're talking," I chuckled, lightening the mood.

Dad blew out an amused huff. "I doubt they will be generous with the portion sizes in here." He chuckled. "I don't much care for a drink, I've never smoked a day in my life, but offer me a jam roly-poly with custard and I'll snatch your hand off for it."

Dinner progressed from idle chit-chat to the serious topic of business. I wondered if there was something else that Dad had neglected to tell me. He seemed anxious as if something was worrying him.

"So, what's this all about a shake-up in the company?" I inquired, wondering what had gotten him so stressed lately.

"I just want to make sure you're financially secure, that's all. And I need to know that the business can sustain itself if you ever decide to take time off to start a family," he explained, choosing his words carefully.

"Dad, I'm not even in a relationship with anyone, never mind taking time off to have kids. There's about as much chance of that happening as there is of you re-enlisting in the Navy."

Despite Dad's hearty chortle, I could tell that he was being serious. "But what if things were to take a drastic change? What if you decide to settle down and marry?" he asked. "I would give your old man some peace of mind, knowing that you're safe and secure."

Safe and secure? What has brought all this on?

As much as I wanted that fairy tale ending, it felt as if I was fishing in a pond filled with frogs. I didn't want to have to kiss each one to find a prince.

Couldn't you catch warts from frogs? Or was it toads?

Some of my friends had found their life partners when they weren't even looking. The harder you seek, the more you'll settle for second best. I didn't wish to have to settle in life, never mind in love.

I stopped eating to cast him a pointed look. "As I said, it's not even on the horizon yet, so don't worry about it. I thought I could pitch a few of my ideas to you and see what you think. When is the next meeting?"

Dad wiped his mouth with his napkin, letting it drop onto his empty plate. The fact that he was hesitant was making me nervous. Surely Dad wouldn't have made any plans without talking to me first.

"Look, Bexley ...," Dad began.

"Oh God, you've sold part of the company, haven't you?" I thought of the worst-case scenario first.

I always did that because it softened the blow for lesser revelations.

Dad cleared his throat and flicked his gaze to me. It was hardly a denial, and I could see the trepidation in his eyes.

"Not so much as sold," he stated, making a cringe face. "More like agreed to a merger with a very good friend of mine. If things were to ever take a turn for the worst, we would be prepared for it. This agreement has been in place since you were a baby. It will suit us all."

"Dad, what the fuck?" I let my cool demeanour slip.

He had already made a deal.

My cutlery slipped through my fingers and clattered onto my plate. Some diners turned suddenly, the unexpected noise startling them from their quiet dinner. Dad's jaw pulsed as he waited for my outburst. I was angry that he went behind my back. Were we in some kind of trouble? Was this what all the secrecy was about? All this talk about wanting me to be financially secure seemed to make so much more sense.

"How bad is it?" I asked, cradling my head in my hands. "How far in the red are we?"

Go on, just give it to me straight. No matter how bad it is, I can figure something out.

Dad bristled. "Our rivals are undercutting us at every corner. It's not feasible to price-match and still make a profit. Our options are to cut the workforce down by half, or agree to a merger to save jobs."

I could see the predicament he was in. It would break Dad's heart to let go of staff. The majority of our employees had been with us from the start. Times were hard for everyone. Our economy was at an all-time low. There was no guarantee that these people would find alternative employment. People would lose their homes, their income, and would struggle to feed their families. We couldn't let that happen. Dad and I owed it to them to do all that we could to make this work.

"So, as you said ... you've already agreed to a merger? Would I be correct in guessing that it has something to do with your acquaintance from the personal security firm?" I inquired; my suspicions were aroused by this mystery friend of Dad's.

"Yes, I believe that working alongside his company is the smart way forward for all of us," Dad reinforced.

A merger would mean any decision-making would be put down to a vote. We wouldn't necessarily be in control despite owning fifty per cent of the business, but what other choice did we have? Borrowing money against the business would only put us further in the red. If things were as bad as Dad claimed, then we would never recoup the losses before the next tax year.

"You have to tell me who this friend of yours is," I stressed, needing to see all the facts and figures with my own eyes. "How can you be sure he's as trustworthy as you say he is?"

"We can trust him," Dad assured, sounding certain of that.

A waitress came to remove our empty plates. I waited for her to leave before I continued the conversation.

"Can I at least look at the business proposal?" I asked, hopefully.

Dad leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, and let out an exasperated breath. He hated having to explain his decisions, but this was my business too. I could see that his intentions were good, but that didn't mean that his judgement remained intact. Dad always seemed highly-strung during this time of the year, and the last thing that I wanted was for someone to take advantage at a time like this. He might be my father and protector, but the same fierce loyalty worked both ways.

"That won't be necessary," Dad dismissed. "Everything will be explained when we arrive in London, tomorrow."

I blinked my eyes, shaking my head at all the cloak and daggery. There was something he wasn't telling me. He was protecting me from something else. Dad knew me too well; I would worry and overthink things until I learned all the facts. If he wasn't going to tell me until tomorrow, then so be it. It wouldn't kill me to wait for one day.

"Okay, so now we're travelling to London." I bounced my shoulders in a cooperative shrug. "So, I take it we're going to see Uncle Teddy then?" I assumed.

"Not Uncle Teddy," Dad said, wincing his eyes.

I called all of Dad's old Navy friends 'Uncle' as a term of endearment. They were not related to me in any way, but family doesn't always have to be blood, right? If Dad wasn't going into partnership with sweet Uncle Ted, the man who used to make pound coins appear behind my ears, then who could it be? Who else would Dad trust with his livelihood?

With his only daughter's future?

"You remember Uncle Zane from Dorset, don't you?" Dad mentioned, sending chills down my spine.

Uncle Zane? No ... does he mean Zane Wolfe?

Uncle Zane was a scary-looking bastard. He was ninety per cent muscle and ten per cent body hair. I used to joke that he was a werewolf and howled up at the moon. His tattoos were barely visible beneath the thick, wiry hairs on his arms and chest. And he had one of those big bushy beards that concealed half of his face. He reminded me of Popeye's love rival, Bluto, but a lot grouchier. Despite having the personality of a cactus, Uncle Zane wasn't the problem, it was his four sons. The Devil's spawn, as I used to call them. The Wolfe brothers: Asher, Braxton, Cruz, and Dominic. Two sets of identical twins that made my childhood a living nightmare. The last I heard, they had followed in their father's footsteps and enlisted into the Merchant Navy. I prayed to God that they had been deployed somewhere far, far away so I never had the displeasure of seeing them again.

"Hm-hm," I murmured, wrinkling my nose as if I had just smelled a fart. "Why is he meeting us in London? I thought he lived in Sandbanks?"

I wondered if Uncle Zane still looked the same, and if the Omen brothers were still as awful as I remembered. They would be grown men in their mid-twenties, probably married with lots of demonic offspring by now. Gosh, I shuddered at the thought. Dad could tell by the reserved look in my eyes that I was not looking forward to going to London.

"They all moved closer to the business premises, but they still own the beach-house in Sandbanks," Dad replied, sparking further questions.

Sandbanks was a peninsula that crossed the mouth of Poole Harbour. With its Jurassic coastline, golden sandy beaches, cute little bistros, and water sports facilities, it was considered the English Riviera. The view from Uncle Zane's balcony terrace was spectacular. I loved to watch the sun sinking into the ocean horizon at the end of the day.

A part of me wanted to ask whether they were all still living together, but I resisted because that would imply that I cared ... and I don't.

I made a disgruntled huff. "Oh, how could I ever forget those treasured memories," I exaggerated, my words laced with bitter sarcasm.

Fine ... some of the memories were beautiful, but the bad ones outweighed the good times. No thanks to those awful brothers.

"I hated when you and Mum used to drag me there every other weekend. It was bad enough that they had to hijack our holidays abroad." I shook my head with revulsion. "They were always pissing in the swimming pool and trying to blame it on me. Asher undid my bikini top as I went down that water slide. Alright, I didn't have any boobs back then, but it was still humiliating for me. Then there was the time when Dominic squirted tomato sauce on my seat when I was wearing that gorgeous white dress. Everyone thought that I had started my period. Honestly, Dad. You don't know what they put me through."

Dad waved his hand in front of his face in dismissal. "I know you didn't always get along with the boys," he breathed, airily. "They were always quite a handful."

"Which is the understatement of the century," I replied with a roll of my eyes. "The Wolfe brothers hated me. They were constantly picking on me, making fun of my name, and one time, they even set fire to my pigtails with my own birthday cake candles," I reminded him, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

My actions made me seem like a petulant child pouting for attention, but some old wounds never heal. Right now, all I wanted to do was bury my face into my hands and ugly cry.

My worst nightmare is coming true.

"Boys tend to show off whenever they like someone," Dad cited his words of wisdom. "Zane always mentions that they ask about you all the time."

Did they really ask about me?

My natural response was to laugh at that. "Don't give me that crap! They are probably reminiscing about all the times they hid spiders in my bed or put itching powder onto my knickers that year in Cannes."

Dad reached out and took hold of my hand. "Oh, Bexley, life is too short to hold on to silly grudges. They never knew their mothers. Zane brought them up on tough love. They were not used to being around girls. I think they saw you as some kind of novelty."

Trust Dad to lay on the guilt trip. Zane had opted to use surrogates to bear his offspring, rather than settle down and marry someone like a regular guy would. The Wolfe Brothers were a business transaction: Zane paid two women to be artificially inseminated with his sperm; they were to carry his kids for nine months, then hand them over an hour after giving birth. In return, they each received fifty thousand pounds per child. I guess I feel sorry for them in that respect, but they weren't exactly born into poverty. Zane Wolfe was loaded. You had to be to live in a place like Sandbanks. The boys had always been spoiled, over-privileged pricks in my opinion.

"When Mum died, I didn't turn into the school bully," I preached, making an excellent point. "They were horrible to me. There's no excuse for that. Don't you remember the day I almost drowned in their pool?"

Dad frowned as he recalled the memory. "Yes, darling. But saying you almost drowned is a bit far-fetched. Braxton gave you a little nudge because you bragged that you were the better swimmer. In his defence, you had challenged him to a swimming race and were taking a lifetime to dive in. He wasn't to know that you couldn't swim. If I recall correctly, it was Cruz that came to your rescue."

Trust dad to make Cruz the hero of the hour.

I rolled my eyes. That wasn't how I remembered it at all. In my version of events, they were the bad guys and I was the innocent victim. It was so typical of Dad to make excuses for them just because they didn't have a mother figure. I remember how much they doted upon my mother, and I felt a slight twinge of guilt. Maybe they were jealous of me for having a mum. That thought always crossed my mind.

"I did not boast," I spoke in my defence. "I was just sick of hearing all about Braxton the champion swimmer. He was getting on my nerves."

Maybe I boasted a little, but so what? They claimed to be experts at everything. Braxton could swim through the water like a torpedo. Dominic was a computer whizz. Asher was freakishly clever, and Cruz thought he was a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. Okay, he took up martial arts at a young age and won every tournament he ever entered. I might sound bitter, but it wasn't easy living in the shadow of the Wolfe brothers. There was no way that I could compete with the number of trophies they won. Their father had an entire room dedicated to their achievements, just to rub salt into the wounds of us mere mortals. It made the rosette I had won for coming second in the egg and spoon race look like a cheap piece of tat. It was, but that's beside the point. I was eight, and had the steadiest hand in my primary school. There wasn't anything else that I was particularly talented at. Not really. That's why I must succeed in business. I have nothing else going for me. Our money would soon run out if we were not careful with it.

"Please tell me that they won't all be present at the meeting," I groaned, pleading with my eyes. "They don't all work for their father, do they?"

I could cope if it was just Uncle Zane, but the guilty expression on my father's face made my heart plummet into my stomach.

No ... they were all going to be there.

We were merging our companies. That could only mean that I would be seeing a lot more of the Wolfe brothers from now on so I'd better get used to it. A lot of time had passed since I had seen them. Maybe they had matured.

I won't hold my breath.

"Why do I let you do this to me?" I complained.

"Because you love me," Dad said with a grin. "Now, shall we order dessert to go? We have a lot of packing to do."

For an overnight stay?

"Why, Dad? How long are we planning on staying?" I asked, flaring my eyes with sarcasm.

And there was me thinking that men liked to travel light.

Dad met my gaze, his expression unreadable. "For however long it takes."