Chapter I

Marcus’ POV 

Location: Cosmo nightclub, London. 

I stumble out onto the veranda and into the fresh air.  My head is spinning.  I’m not used to this much booze.  

The Board of Directors were against me today.  I’ve always managed to talk them around.  Today I failed.  Failure doesn’t come easily to me.  No, I’m not a rags to riches case, I fight to win because my childhood was a persistent competition.  To be better, to do better, there was no stopping my father obliterating every ounce of play, fun or innocence out of my childhood.  If I did well today, I had to do better tomorrow.  In my adult life, I’ve coped with any set-backs in my life by letting off steam in the gym, doing a punishing workout, but today I decided to call on some of the reasonably tolerable members from Chess, the gent’s club I frequent, for a night of bar hopping. 

Too many beers and whiskey chasers later, and I realise the fool I’ve been.  This is never a good option.  It solves nothing, but I needed to blow off steam.  It’s almost midnight, and the other guys have either gone home with some beauty they’ve chatted up in the club, or are working on it in some dark corner. 

The veranda is used by the smokers, but there’s only a couple in the far distance, and a woman sat on the cushioned wall sofa with her head turned upwards, as if she were deep in contemplation. 

I feel rotten. 

My head is spinning.  I think I’m going to be sick.  I run to the balcony.  I hurl my guts up and hope to god there’s no-one below. 

“You a’right hun?” says a woman’s voice.  Christ I must be drunk, I could swear that was a Welsh accent.  I want to tell her to leave me alone, I’ll be fine, but I can hardly focus on the words. 

“Come and sit down by ‘ere, ‘s not safe for you to be so close to the balcony”. 

She puts my arm around her shoulders.  She’s ridiculously little to be attempting to take my weight, but the wall sofas are close and I collapse onto one. 

“Christ, you’re like a block of ice”….she reaches into a basket close by “here, take this - they keep blankets in baskets for the smokers in these fancy places, put this around you” she drapes it around me regardless of commanding me to do so. 

“Uuuugh, I can’t believe I got so drunk,  I can’t lose a whole day tomorrow, I’ve got so much to do” I slur. 

She laughs, “we’ve all been there, don’t worry.  Listen hun, we gotta get you to a state where you can at least walk out of this club and get into a taxi.  Stay there.  Don’t move.  If the bouncers see you this drunk, they might throw you out, I’ll be right back”. 

“They wouldn’t dare”  I mutter, but she’s gone. 

I take some deep breaths and close my eyes for just a second. 

“Are you still with us?” I hear her voice again - oh, she’s back.  The string of fairy lights cast a glow on her face.  She’s cute from what I can make out in this reduced light. 

“Look hun, this is a bottle of water.  I have put something into it, but it’s only milk thistle….a natural remedy, you know?  I’d feel much better if I saw you drink the bottle along with this Vitamin B complex tablet.  I know it sounds dodgy, but no offence, the state you’re in, no-one would have to bother with spiking your drink to rob you or…..whatever.  These’ll help you feel better in the morning.  It’s my absolute go-to for hangover prevention since I turned 25 and realised that with age comes some savage hangovers.  Not that I’m a serious drinker or anything, but I do like a few drinks and a laugh with the girls now and again.  We independent women work hard…” she laughs. 

What a funny little thing.  I drink the water and take the tablet.  I must be nuts.