Onward | A FORTY FIVE

A/N: this chapter is Herby dedicated unicornbb777 and inshalmaah179302

Side note: (I also wanted to make a dedication to a user who went by the username yasmin1232009, who had pic of panda on her profile but for whatever reason her account seems to have disappeared. If you're out there, thank you!)

I massaged my wrist, wincing at the ordeal it endured. I didn't even get a chance to let out a peep before the tray of drinks was placed aside and I was being dragged across the room.

I wasn't sure where exactly I'd been abducted to. All I knew was that I was still in the nightclub from the audible thumping of the music but it wasn't as loud. The tables were more separate and there were no glittery disco balls to illuminate the dim space. Only a candle encased in a crystal dome and the leather was cold to the touch.

Not as much as the man sat on the other side of the booth, arms crossed and eyeing me.

"I'm reporting you if I get a bruise." I threatened.

His expression stoic, riddling my nerves further. Then he brought out the ID. "Now, I already knew you were lacking in morals but stealing and illegally purchasing alcohol? Seriously?"

"It's not stolen. I can explain."

"Does this ID belong to you?"

"No, but— "

"Then there's nothing to explain." He snapped in a tone that immobilised my will to speak. It was terrifyingly sharp, ominous.

He was very, very angry for some reason. Speechless, I watched him inspect the ID with a clenched jaw. "That bartender must be blind or something. This girl isn't even ugly. Couldn't you have nicked one that at least held some resemblance?"

Just like that, my voice returned. Partnered with it, a scowl. "First of all, I didn't steal anything and I have no reason to listen to some prejudice snob insult me and it's none of your business what I do. Don't forget who can puncture a hole in your career with a tap of my phone."

I waited for his move, holding his intense stare with my own. I extended my hand, "So you can just return the ID to me now to save time or you can go give it to the authorities which would spend a lengthy procedure finding the owner. And once they do, she'll gladly verify I didn't steal it. Well? What'll it be?"

As much as I hated to admit it, Beswick's poker face was impeccable tonight but I was in no way going to be beat. "Right, you think that once I go to the authorities you'll hop on a plane out of this country while I'm waiting at a police station for hours. That's the trick here, isn't it?" He suspected.

"There isn't a trick— "

"But the thing is," he cut me off, "I don't need to go to the authorities. I can hand it over to her dad."

I drew a quizzical look. "Her dad?"

Beswick nodded. "Rainer Dune, he owns more than half the establishments in this part of town and I had a meeting with him so I flew out here. His car is probably pulling out as we speak so I should be able to ring him up and he can rip apart your story in the next five minutes."

"You haven't even let me tell my story." I retorted.

"Is this 'story' good enough to justify underage drinking?"

"I wasn't drinking. I was ordering for my friends who came here with Fenna, who you're stating is this Dune mister's daughter." It would certainly explain her connections.

"So these 'friends' of yours left ordering up to a minor?"

"I offered. They were all kinda preoccupied."

Beswick didn't look the slightest bit convinced, yet he hadn't made a move to call up the dad and just end this. I knew he was only holding out to listen to wait for me to make a mistake then catch me in it. His own self-centered vindication as acting as the judge and jury.

Beswick lay back, leg crossed over the other. "Right. And how exactly did these friends become acquainted with Mr. Dune's daughter who has been schooling abroad in Bangladesh and only came back for the holidays yesterday? She doesn't even go home since her dad constantly moves for his work so she stays—"

"At the Portshire Hotel, I know. That's how my friends met her. See, we're here on a class trip to participate in the annual IAO."

"The what now?"

"International Academic Olympiad."

He blinked. "... That's a real thing, is it?"

"Yes." I said, beyond exasperated. "You can look it up if you want."

"Are schools usually so lenient on letting students go out to places like this?" He glanced at his wristwatch. "At half past nine in the night?"

I pursed my lips, averting my eyes. "We... may have left our suites without permission."

"Oh. So you snuck out." I could envision the self-righteous smirk in finally getting a 'catch'.

Granted, was it anything worth this extent of grilling? Sneaking out on a school field trip was weekend detention level at best. Hardly a big fish.

"Name." He uttered.

"What?"

"The name of the buffoon that school left to watch over you. You're required to have a chaperone for these things, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah. It's Mr. Hertford, he's the school supervisor."

"Suite?"

"I don't know. But I have his number saved in my phone. Hang on a sec." I collected the device from my pocket and it was seized the next second after inputting my password.

Beswick casually helped himself to scrolling through my contacts. "This is a new model, isn't it? Your crime sprees must be paying pretty well."

"It was a gift."

"Sure it was."

There soon came the irritating pinging noise of his audible keyboard as he dialled, steel gaze unshifting from me as he positioned the phone by his ear. A pause descended as the line rang out. "... It went to voicemail."

"He's probably sleeping."

"You just have an excuse for every loose end, don't you?"

"It's not an excuse, it's logic. Most people sleep at night."

"Then I'll call again in the morning."

"Whatever." I stood to my feet.

"And where do you think you're going?"

"Back to my friends."

"If you want to be cleared, then you stay right here."

"Do you really have time to be bothering me when your project is going out to the public in two days?" His brows knitted in puzzlement so I explained. "Ms. Dion told me."

"Oh, you're still in touch?"

"Of course. She's the only person in the fashion industry I know who's pleasant." I replied. "Besides, why have a meeting all the way out in Amsterdam at such a crucial time?"

"Now who's not minding their own business?" He quipped. He motioned for me to recollect my seat in which I assumed was to elaborate. I rolled my eyes but complied.

Somehow, it felt like Beswick had changed his composure as he dropped an arm on the table, leaning forward. "The man that recently passed away who Nelani knew, Dune was quite close to him too but he won't be able to attend the funeral. He's having surgery, can’t postpone it.

But he at least wanted to express his condolences and asked me to pick up a package to deliver to Taylor Hobbs' parents."

"Oh, okay." My words were involuntarily monotone but I wasn't sure how to take hearing the self-centered prick being so considerate. "Well, are you nervous?"

"About what?"

"The funeral day. You know, seeing Mrs. Goy-Smith."

Beswick's cobalt eyes hollowed out as he diverted them. The candlelight showcasing bases of shadows to number the emotions that drifted by. "I've been thinking it over and it's best not to go."

"What?" I couldn't understand why I felt bothered.

"Yeah, not like I was close to the man. Leant me some CDs once, that's about it."

"But this wasn't about the dead guy. This was an opportunity—"

"I'm aware but I'm not doing it. I can't. I..." He dragged a hand through his sleek raven hair. "I don't need to be discussing this with a child thug. You're not a therapist."

"You'd think a therapist would be much help?"

"That's what they're there for."

"They're there for money. Not to solve your problems. You know who would do it for free and have your genuine best interest at heart? Friends."

Beswick was quiet. Lips in a flat line.

"You do have friends, right?" I probed.

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "I have many business partnerships that I have the occasional drinks with. And there's Dylan of course."

"I think it would be more appropriate that you're not telling your problems with the husband of the affair. Just saying."

"Mm, probably." He tried to play it off coolly but there was that guilt flashing again. Then silence.

I was astonished. Did a man who's name was royalty to all aspiring designers and compass for fashion seriously have no one? How could someone live like that?

Though then again, I used to be in that place. It wasn't that long ago and I seemed just as well kept together as Beswick. Aloneness was more comforting than society portrayed it. It wasn't black but more of a grey area.

"Y'know what?" I started. "A therapist doesn't sound too bad."

Beswick stared momently. "It's adorable how you think I was taking your opinion on it."

No matter what, it appeared I'd never have a pleasant conversation with this arsehole. All at once, there was a rowdy tremor against the surface between us and I grabbed my phone to see a text from Garren.

where are you?

"Your friends, I take it?" guessed Beswick. I nodded, wondering how to send a reply that I was stuck but not in trouble when my abductor spoke again. "Alright, I'll take you to your gang."

"What? You believe me?"

"Of course not." Without warning, he lashed out his phone in front of me and there was a blinding flash of light.

"D-Did you just take my picture?"

"Evidence." He stated. "If I call tomorrow and there's still nothing and you've magically disappeared, Mr. Dune can hand this photo to the police in order to track you down."

"How cunning. Why not take my fingerprints while you're at it?"

He lifted his lips into a sneer, gaze momently sweeping over me. "You look nice, by the way."

I paused, certain I'd misheard but was too prideful to ask he repeat it. He probably meant it in a patronising way. That had to be it. I tailed behind him as he sauntered through the vicinity and soon we reached a door guarded by a large bald man in black. He merely dipped his head in a nod to Beswick which was returned and the door was opened for us.

I caught the words 'Grote Hal' in a silver plaque right above the entry way. I roughly translated that it was written as some VIP lounge which would explain how the guys hadn't found me. Made sense, Beswick never came off as a sociable person since the beginning.

Soon, I saw the familiar scenery of the glittery nightclub with its clustered seats, dance floor and various platforms with glowing tiles. Then eventually a familiar halo of golden hair and a coiffe of dark locks shuffling around the area. "Seen any of your fellow thugs?" questioned Beswick.

"Yeah. Over there." I pointed.

He followed my finger to where Will had disappeared, presumably to scour while Garren was staking out the open bar front where I'd been nabbed. I almost wanted to milk the moment when catching the sight of his blatantly worried look. I pushed away the little devil tempting me and took a step forward, only for a hand to latch on my arm.

I came to find a frown on Beswick's face. "That's who you came with? Him?" There was unmistakable disdain in his tone.

"You know Garren?"

"Regrettably." His gaze grew into slits when they flickered to the boy in mention.

"How?" I asked.

Beswick's jaw ticked. His eyes darted between me and the open bar, seeming to contemplate. I noticed he hadn't dropped his hold on my arm when I was abruptly hauled to the side. A potted plant obstructed the view of the bar.

Or more like, hid me from where the agitated man laid out his intentions. "Last autumn, I was putting together a layout with debuting models for a teen column. This one model, Ida Harrington; definition of raw talent but there were difficulties. She had some stress related issues that caused a string of medical episodes. Even a firetruck on one occasion but her agent, who I was sort of well, sleeping with at the time insisted I give her a chance. So I did and shut up. I'm only human."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking of vulgar names to call me in your head. I can tell."

I rolled my eyes. "You were saying?"

"It turned out the agent was right. Ida had improved."

"You're calling her the agent because you don't even remember her name, do you— ow!" I yelped when he thumped my forehead with his finger.

"Do not interrupt me." He warned. "Like I was saying, she improved. She worked hard and wasn't problematic for weeks. She said she had a guy she newly started dating who taught her some methods to relieve the stress. I didn't really care for the details, I was content so long as she got the job done. Then a few days later, she's a no show for an important shoot. I call her agent and I'm told Ida was in the hospital. Poison from taking insecticide."

My eyes widened. "Did she...?"

"No. The doctors managed to keep her alive. I went to go see her and asked her why she did such a thing and she just burst into tears. Her agent pulled me aside and explained Ida had gotten dumped by her boyfriend right out the blue. It hit Ida harder than her agent expected.

The poor woman was even blaming herself for leaving Ida alone in the apartment to buy groceries. I decided to visit Ida with her before she was discharged and when we went, someone else was there. Him."

It was more than implied at this point but I said it, "Garren was the guy who dumped her."

"Yes." nodded Beswick. "And I didn't hold anything against the kid when I realised who he was. Ida is the one in charge of her life, she recklessly endangered it over a breakup. She was a mess. I stood and watched how ecstatic the idiotic girl was at seeing him. I figured he felt bad and wanted to see how she was doing and you know what he said? He— "

"Stevie."

His voice sliced through the rhythmic beat of the music and seemed to nearly wedge itself between the close proximity Beswick had on me.

Looking fully recovered from the limp, Garren marched over to us. "Do I need to put you on a leash or something? You keep wandering off and don't reply and you even got my order wrong! I said I wanted iced water with lime, not lemon."

"They didn't have lime."

Garren groaned. "Bloody northerners." His dark eyes scoped the man beside me. "I'm sorry, and you are?"

Beswick was swift to place on a superficial smile. "Beswick. Oliver Beswick. I work with Stevie's aunt and was surprised to run into her. So, I wanted to have a little chat." He played the polite business man persona to a tee, jutting out his hand to Garren. "Apologies for keeping her."

Garren eyed it, wryly and proceeded to go through with the offered hand shake. "No problem." His own flawless forged smile put into place.

I felt a chill run down my spine at the self absorbed, deceptive pair interacting. Perhaps a natural disaster would fall.

I waited anxiously and to my relief, the building was still standing in place as they retracted their hands. Then Garren simply stared. Head tilting and eyes squinting.

"There something wrong?" questioned Beswick.

"... No." Garren answered after a moment. "It's nothing."

"Right, can I just have a quick word with Stevie?" No matter the pretense, I couldn't grow used to hearing him use my name.

Garren didn't seem keen on obliging so I piped in, "I'll come meet you in a minute. I swear."

He still remained uncompliant.

"Don't be so scared, kid. Your girlfriend isn't going anywhere." assured Beswick.

"He's not my— "

"What reason would I have to be scared?” snapped Garren. Then turned to me. "You better be at the booth in the next minute or I'm coming back with a dog collar and tying it on your neck."

"Uh-huh. Heard you."

Garren spared Beswick one last glance and retreated, no doubt already counting down each second.

"Okay, tell me the rest quickly 'cause he will be back in a minute."

"So what? Is he actually going to tie you up like some animal?"

"Well, no. I mean, I don't think he could get one on short hand but he does pretty unreasonable things when impatient and I don't want to test that."

Beswick studied me with a deep frown. "Are you afraid of him?"

The question had me off guard. "What? I... no."

My hesitance didn't seem to be a good sign as Beswick's lips tugged downward and an expression unlike any other I'd seen surfaced with what followed, "Is he abusive? Whether it's verbally it still counts okay?"

"Um, I know."

"Well, is he?"

There was that angry tone again like back in the lounge when he was certain I stole the ID. Why though? Why did it feel like...?

"Are you worried about me?" I blurted.

Beswick's eyes grew saucer wide in shape. He blinked several times before a deep scoff elicited, "What? No. What the hell are you talking about? What sort of question..." He trailed off, muttering something incoherently. "Listen here, you little low life. Just because I ask you a personal question does not mean you get any absurd ideas in that perverse mind of yours there's any part of me that cares if you end up in prison or found dead in some dumpster.

Frankly, I would feel nothing but relief that I'd never have to see your face around again. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got places to be."

At that, he took off and all I could do was watch in bemusement at his figure shredding through the mass until it was inconceivable.

What the bloody hell was all that?

When I returned to the booth, Will and Fenna were both frantic and relieved. The nice bartender had informed them about how he witnessed a man whisk me away but lost sight of me as a fight coincidentally started between two drunkards and he leaped in to break it up.

Will was imagining the worst and engulfed me in a hug. I apologised to Fenna for losing her ID and she quickly dismissed it with a wave, assuring me it wasn't a problem. She was simply glad I was unharmed.

Well, maybe not physically anyway. I would be lying if I claimed Beswick's words didn't sting but I would get stronger that it'd feel like nothing in no time. I wasn't going to let that bastard get to me.

The walk back to the hotel was vastly different than the previous. For one thing, Fenna was in a cheerful mood. Will still felt bad for neglecting his shift and offered Ben any form of compensation. Ben demanded a piggyback. So the taller boy hoisted Ben onto his back with Fenna skipping alongside, the three making light conversation while Garren and I hung back, roughly a five metre gap between us and them.

"Will's acting weird." started Garren.

I'd predicted he was planning to interrogate me on what really happened without the others around but to think he'd go for it at only a few paces apart, caught me more than off guard. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"He wouldn't make eye contact with me for more than five seconds and was really quiet." He frowned.

"Maybe he had something on his mind."

"Oh yeah? Well he's not having any issue chatting away there with Fanny." He glowered at the back of her head.

"It's Fenna."

"Whatever. Now point being, he's only behaving peculiar around me. Why?"

I shrugged.

He let out a haggard sigh, visibly frustrated and it intrigued me how a genius like him who saw through everything couldn't see this.

"So who was that guy with the bling? And how does he know me?"

"You could tell?"

"The bloke is good at acting but he had that look of hate that a number of people I crossed get when they see me." Garren explained. "And I don't remember him which has happened before, but they usually don't pretend not to know me."

For a split second, I debated on letting Garren in on hiding I was told, but my curiosity to know the end won overall.

"Oh, Ida Harrington." He easily recalled. "Yeah, she was... exhausting."

"In bed or in general?"

"A bit of both. Seriously needy and had mood swings that drove me mental. When I heard she was hospitalised, I thought I couldn't be more glad I ended things right before. She couldn't go a whole week without stirring some kind of drama. Guess it wasn't though."

"Why did you go to visit her at the hospital?"

"To ask her if she'd seen where I left my sunglasses."

I faltered in my steps, "Your... what?"

"My sunglasses. They were my favourite pair that I just bought and I was going to Barcelona the next day so I had to find them. Ended up being a total waste, she wouldn't even answer me. Just kept on crying and sniveling and trying to kiss me, thinking I came to get back together with her. So I left and..."

At that, Garren's footfalls sealed up. Eyebrows pinching together as if something came to mind. "Him. It was him."

"Who?"

"The Beswick fella. He was by the door and was pissed as fuck, I figured he was Ida's brother or something. He looked at me with so much anger and disgust, telling me I was a despicable human being.”

It wasn't hard to picture the scene with the side I'd seen of Beswick tonight. It was probably even worse. "I didn't know what he was on about. I was really confused."

"What did you say back to him?"

"Nothing." Garren inspected his shoes. "I get it now though so yeah. There's that." Maybe it was because of dark streets that I thought I caught grief fall on his face.

I could understand Beswick's anger and reasoning but he didn't have the privilege of seeing it from all angles. He didn't know Ida had depended on Garren so deeply and the boy probably viewed their relationship as a pass time. It wasn't Garren's fault.

I brought a hand to the quiet boy's shoulder. Slowly, he lifted his eyes up like his body was heavy and the movement took taxing effort. "So," I began softly, "did you find your sunglasses?"

To my delight, the hood over his gaze slightly peeled back to sustain a small smile. "Yeah. Backseat of the car."

"It's always the back, isn't it?"

The small smile grew a little wider and was all the reminder I needed to know I wasn't crazy for wanting to defend him. Okay, maybe a little but he was much too big and bright to let his feet drag back by a screw up in the past. It wasn't the one to make him learn from it, but a stepping stone to that day in future.

He clasped a hand around mine. Immediately, I laced our fingers and from there we walked onward.

**

A/N: What do you think of Beswick's reaction? And how would you define his relationship with Stevie? I'd love to hear your thoughts!