He soon catches up, flanking me. “Thought I’d grab some lunch”—he casts a wicked grin across to me—“before I grab something else.”

I laugh, looking over my shoulder when I hear another car rumbling down the gravel driveway. “What’s he doing here at this time of day again?”

Drew swings into a space and gets out, pulling his suit into place as he heads toward us. His face is poker straight, his eyes focused past us rather than on our static forms by the door. “I’m stressed,” he mutters as he passes, heading straight for the bar.

Sam and I give each other curious looks, following. Mario, my trusty Italian barman, has a beer on the bar before Drew can order one. “Put it on my tab,” I say, settling beside him, as Sam takes a seat on the other side. Drew stares forward, knocking his bottle back.

“What’s up?” Sam eventually asks the question burning my lips, but if there’s one thing I know about Drew, it’s that he doesn’t do chitchat.

“The longest chain in the history of real estate just collapsed, taking my commission with it.” He slams the bottle down, shrugs his jacket off, and casts his eyes over to me. “And that prick of an estate agent who you bought Lusso from swooped in and took the contract for the new development on Blackfriars.” He scowls to himself, and I shrink on my stool, thinking it’s probably best I don’t mention that that prick of an estate agent is now a member of my fine establishment. Drew will find out soon enough.

“So my man needs to let off some steam,” Sam chirps, giving Drew a smack on the back, just as he lifts his bottle to his mouth, making his teeth clash with the glass. Drew stills, his jaw tight, and Sam wisely moves back, away from the possible swing of Drew’s fist. Me? I do a terrible job of suppressing my laughter. “Sorry,” Sam mutters, throwing me a wary look. “But you know what the answer to all this is, don’t you?” he goes on, and I shake my head. He needs to shut the fuck up, or that possible swing of Drew’s fist will become a certain swing. “Quit.”

“What?” Drew spits.

“Don’t work,” Sam clarifies, nodding to Mario in thanks when he’s passed a beer. “Live the stress-free life like me.”