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“Who?” she says, wrinkling my nose.

“Harry. Does Harry know you’re done? Because from what I heard, you have been avoiding him.”

She folds her arms across her chest and sneers, not answering me.

“Yeah, I didn't think so. What the hell is going on with you? You've been in here most nights with Cassidy and that other girl. They’re bad news, Ali. Why the hell are you hanging out with the—”

“Hey, don't you judge them? You have no idea who they are or what they've been through, so don't you dare comment on how they behave or what they do. You have no idea.” And there it is. She’s going through something, and she doesn’t know how to manage it. I recognize it, the destructive behavior, the empty look in the eyes.

“Are you talking about them or yourself there?”

“I’d like to leave, please.”

“Not with him you aren't.” My tone is stern.

“I’m going back to my friends, if you must know. I also need to pee. Do you wish to escort me there too?” Her words are laced with sarcasm.

“You need to talk to him. He doesn't deserve your silence, Ali,” I say, trying to soften my tone.

“Don't lecture me about what he deserves. Most of us don't deserve the hand we are dealt.” Her comment hits me square in the chest, because, she’s right. We aren’t.

She brushes past me, but I catch her arm. “If you need to talk, I’m here. I’m your friend Ali, not your enemy.”

She shrugs me off, reaches for the door, and slips out of my office.

I fall back into my chair, rubbing my hand over my stubble in frustration. What the fuck was that? Sure, Ali is wild but she’d never act like that with me. There was something haunting about her eyes. I’ve seen that look before, staring back at me in my own reflection, I know what it’s like to carry secrets, regrets and fight daily to not allow them to swallow you whole. Worried for her safety, I leave my office and go in search of Ali.

“Kate,” I yell, leaning over the bar. She walks over holding a bottle of vodka in each hand.

“What’s up?”

“Have you seen Ali?”

She shakes her head, and I flatten my mouth in annoyance.

“Sorry, it’s been packed in here. I haven’t seen her for a while. Maybe she left?”

I give her a nod of agreement, and she walks back to her station.

I ball my hands into fists and exhale in annoyance. Where the fuck is she? I head up to the VIP floor to check up there, and when I reach the top of the staircase and see Patrick withhis tongue down some girl’s throat, who isn’t Gabriella’s, which, truth be told, I am grateful for, I see red. I don’t think; I don’t let myself count to ten and think of a logical way to handle this. No, I go into bulldozer Brad mode and stride over to his table and tower over them. They part and he looks up at me, his expression dropping when he sees it’s me.

He whispers in the girl’s ear, and she giggles, stands, and walks towards the bar. The prick turns to face me, leaning back in his booth with a smug smile creeping across his face.

“Bradley, good to see you again.”

I’ve never wanted to punch someone more than him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I grit out, my anger building.

“Trying to get laid, and I must say you’re cramping my style.”

I slam my palms down on the table. “You’re meant to be with Gabriella, you prick.” The words taste like poison on my tongue, and a pain rips through me.

He’s with Gabriella, and he’s treating her like this.

He rises to his feet and steps out, away from the table. “My relationship with Gabriella is none of your damn business.”

“It is when you are in my club disrespecting her. She doesn’t deserve that.”