‘I need to leave,’ I wheeze, grabbing his hand. ‘Please, I need to go.’

‘What’s he doing here?’ He discards my drink on the bar and starts pulling me away, making sure he knocks into Miller as we pass, but I’m soon captured by the wrist and yanked away from Gregory. ‘Get your f**king hands off her,’ Gregory growls, his body starting to shake. ‘Now!’

‘I’ll ask you to do the same thing,’ Miller retorts on a menacing whisper, tugging at my arm. ‘We’re not done.’

‘Yes, we are.’ I wrench myself free and push Gregory onward, knowing Miller won’t give in. Ben approaches, looking concerned, but soon backs off, a cautious look on his face when he clocks Miller following behind. And then there’s Tony, who tries to intercept Miller and gets practically thrown to the side for his trouble.

‘Miller, son, this isn’t the time or place,’ Tony seethes, looking nervously around the club.

‘Fuck you!’ Miller spits.

All I can hear is shouting. Miller is cursing. Tony is cursing. Gregory is cursing. Anger is drenching the happy club atmosphere around me, making my determination to escape stronger.

The doorman gives us a wide berth as we throw ourselves out of the club, his eyes widening when he sees who’s coming after us. ‘Don’t let her leave!’ Miller roars, prompting the doorman to make chase. He catches me and tosses me up onto his big shoulder, but I’m too stunned to voice my shock, still hearing men swearing.

Explicit language is being fired everywhere, my view of events surrounding me is hampered, leaving me wriggling to free myself from the severe grip of the doorman.

‘Give her to me!’ Miller’s voice is dripping with threat, and I feel hands at my waist trying to pull me down.

‘Dave, put her down!’ Tony yells.

‘I will if you all give me some f**king space!’ the doorman bellows, taking me away from the grappling of hands, over to the other side of the road. He lowers me to my feet and gives me the once-over. ‘Are you okay, darling?’

I half-heartedly pull my dress back into place, feeling disorientated and exposed. ‘Sure,’ I murmur, but then I’m seized by the waist again in a fierce clinch. Internal lightning bolts strike me hard, and as I look up, I see Gregory a few yards away. Miller has me, and the fear of his touch sends me into a deranged mess of flailing body parts. ‘Let go of me!’

‘Never!’

Gregory’s at my side in an instant. I’m being yanked from one direction to the other, both men yelling, both men persistent. This is becoming a battle of the egos now.

‘Both of you stop!’ I scream, my shriek having no effect whatsoever, my body still flying from one man to the other, until Miller curls an arm around my waist and hauls me up to his chest. My face is level with his, and the first thing I notice is the lethal danger in his eyes as he focuses past me. There’s no sight of the deep twinkle that always hypnotised me. This is another man. Not the man disguised as a gentleman or the loving, worshipping Miller. This is someone else.

‘I’ll f**king kill you!’ Miller bellows, earning a right hook to his jaw from Gregory, the fist skimming my cheek to find its target. He staggers back, and Gregory takes Miller’s momentary daze as an opportunity to reclaim me, pulling me from his hold. But he doesn’t hold tight enough, and I fall to the ground in a heap of limp muscle, smacking my head on the kerb as I land.

‘Shit!’ Pain sears through me, making me a little dizzy and even more disorientated. I glance up to see Miller tackle Gregory to the pavement, both men rolling around like animals, fists flying, curses piercing the night air, until Tony and Dave intervene and drag them apart.

And the whole time, I’m crumpled on the ground in a pathetic mess, my head pouring blood, my eyes pouring tears. Both men are so consumed by the determination to win, they’ve lost sight of what they’re fighting for. Now I’m injured, blood’s gushing down my face, and I’ve still not been noticed as they wrestle in the holds of Tony and Dave.

‘Stay away from her,’ Gregory snarls at Miller, letting up on his persistent struggle against Tony.

‘Only when I’m f**king dead!’

‘Then I’ll f**king kill you!’ Gregory breaks free and launches himself at Miller, taking him and the doorman to the concrete. I wince at the sounds of hard knuckles connecting with flesh, blood spraying, and clothes ripping. But even though Gregory is well built, Miller clearly has the upper hand, showing the fighting skills of someone trained.

I’ve seen him show this kind of punishment before, except it was a limp bag of sand hanging from the rafters of a gym that was subjected to his brutality. Not my treasured friend. Both of them have forgotten about me, neither noticing that I’m injured and distressed on the pavement. Their rationality has been clouded by caveman behaviour and bashing horns.

In my dazed state, I struggle to my feet while the spectacle continues. My steps forward are tentative. I need to stop this, but then my arm is taken and I’m being pulled away. I look up, seeing Tony focused, with purpose directing me to the road. He flags a taxi down and makes to put me inside.

‘Tony, I need to stop them.’

‘I’ll sort it. You’re best off out of the way,’ he snaps harshly, encouraging me into the cab.

‘Please stop them,’ I beg as he slams the door.

He nods, a nod that I find reassuring as he leans into the window and hands the driver a twenty. ‘Take her to A and E.’ And then he’s gone, stalking away, rampant with fury. As the driver pulls away from the horror scene I’ve caused, he eyes me in his rear-view mirror, prompting me to reach up and feel the top of my head. I wince, tears continuing to fall, more from despair than pain.

‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ the taxi driver asks, looking concerned.

‘I’m fine, honestly.’ I rummage through my purse for a tissue but give up when one’s handed through the small hole in the glass. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. Let’s get you to the hospital.’

‘Thank you,’ I murmur pitifully, resting back in the seat and watching the blurred lights of London by night zoom past the window.

The driver drops me off at A&E and gives me his mobile number to call him as soon as I’m done. After checking myself in, I sit among the masses of Saturday night drunks, all injured, some ranting, some throwing up.

Four hours later, I’m still sitting in the waiting area, my bottom numb, my head banging. I get up and make my way to the toilet, looking down and seeing my ice-blue dress soaked with blood. My reflection in the mirror once I arrive in the ladies’ reveals even more of a mess. My hair is matted and my right cheek caked in dried blood. I look as pitiful as I feel. After staring at myself for too long and not bothering to remedy my sorry state, I exit into the waiting area again, just catching the tail end of my name being called. I look across the room to see a nurse scanning the waiting area.

‘Here!’ I call, hurrying over, thankful my time in the drunk-infested space is up. ‘I’m Olivia Taylor.’

‘Let’s get you sorted out.’ She smiles kindly and directs me into a cubicle, swiftly pulling the curtain across and settling me on the bed. ‘What have you been up to?’ she asks, frowning at my blood-coated face.