Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds

by Laura Carter

  “Like what you see, baby?”

  “Always.”

  He shakes his head and jumps down to the small deck space, taking off his shades to show me the playful sheen of his eyes. Happy and for a change carefree, in his board shorts with dark hair messed up from sea water, he looks his age.

  “You can stay in your bikini for now, we’ll be shallow and the water will be warm. We’ll put you in your gear on shore and go over the basics.”

  “Hmm, and there was me thinking I’d mastered the basics.”

  “Let’s hope you’re as good at the dive basics as you are at the other basics,” he says with a wink that makes me chuckle.

  Williams makes his way ashore with two dive tanks and Carl follows with two sets of everything else. Gregory jumps into the water then holds his hands up for me to jump into. When we reach the sand, he talks me through the equipment and very briefly how to set it up, whilst Williams and Carl catch some rays on the beach.

  When Gregory feels I’ve sufficiently listened, repeated back to him and absorbed everything he has to say, and I’ve managed not to laugh at his patronising method of teaching for more than five entire minutes, he helps me into the BCD jacket. He talks me through strapping myself in with the belt around the waist and harness-type straps over the shoulders, all the while holding onto the tank and breathing apparatus attached to the inflatable jacket, taking the weight for me.

  “Gosh, these are heavy,” I say, bending forward slightly to ease the weight of four metal blocks attached to my waist by a coarse, thick material belt.

  “They won’t feel too bad in the water. Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Alright, it’ll feel heavy when I let go of the tank. Head into the water and kneel, I’ll bring your fins.”

  “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  He releases the tank and I fall back, slapstick style. Gregory catches me with a hearty laugh. “Holy shit, that’s heavy.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re ready if you’re not. Ready?”

  I blow out. “Yep. Ready now.”

  “Okay, go on,” he laughs.

  On our knees, just below the surface, Gregory teaches me how to breathe through my own regulator and switch mine with his spare if I get in trouble. That thought scares me. He shows me how to clear my mask and retrieve my regulator if it falls out of my mouth.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you. I’ll take care of everything, baby, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  When we’re back on the boat Carl drives us to a stick poking out of the waves, which is apparently a marker for a dive site.

  “I was out here with Bryony last week and we saw four turtles,” Carl tells me.

  “Turtles?” I turn to Gregory. “Seriously?”

  He nods with a delectable smile.

  “Oh my gosh, I’ve only ever seen them in Attenborough documentaries.”

  Gregory hands me a short wetsuit. “Put this on.”

  “Aren’t you wearing one?”

  “No, I’ll be fine in shorts. You might find the water cold down there, especially your first time. It’ll make the weights more comfortable on your hips, too. Dunk the suit in the water first, it’s easier to get in when it’s wet.”

  “I’ve no doubt it is,” I say with a flirtatious smile.

  When I’m suited up he makes me recite the pre-water kit checks he taught me but he does the work. “Big willies really are fun,” I tell him. “BCD. Weights. Releases. Air and final check.”

  He pecks my nose when he’s satisfied I’m safe and he and Williams gear up themselves. I sit back, anchored to the boat by my heavy tank, and admire the view of Gregory’s torso moving in the dazzling light of the sun.

  “Put your mask on, baby. You need to spit first.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Gregory and Williams sit on the opposite side of the boat and simultaneously draw spit into their mouths then fire it into the eyes of their masks and rub it in.

  “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”

  “Well, we’ll be able to see,” Williams says.

  “I can see through this,” I protest, holding the mask to my face.

  “Not when you get under the water, you’ll fog up,” Williams tells me.

  “I don’t care, I’m not doing that, it’s horrid.”

  “Baby, Williams is right. Spit.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re scared. That’s fine, baby, no one’s making you do this. You can stay on the boat with Carl if you don’t dare.”

  With a pout and a huffy exhale, I draw saliva into my mouth and spit it at the mask. All three men laugh.

  “That’s pitiful. You need to really spit, angel.”

  Glaring at him, I draw a huge ball of spit into my mouth and fire it at the mask like a bloke on a building site with a nose full of dust. It makes my stomach turn but I rub the spit around the mask, dunk the mask in the water and pull it on my head. “Happy?”

  “That’s actually disgusting. Alright, let’s go. Hop your bum onto the edge of the boat.”

  “Okay.” I lift my bum to the rim of the boat and hear an almighty splash, turning to see Williams and Gregory surfacing from under the water. “What on earth? How do I do that?”

  “Fully inflate your BCD, baby. Good girl. Now put your hand over your mouth piece and your mask. Good. Now cross your legs and—”

  When I surface, Gregory and Williams are on my side of the boat. Gregory removes his mouthpiece to speak. “Okay, baby, you need to deflate your BCD and sink down. You remember what I told you about how to float in the water?”

  I nod.

  “Good girl. Williams will meet you down there and I’ll follow. Don’t forget to go slow and equalize your ears like I showed you. If your ears hurt, kick back up just a little and try again. Okay?”

  My heart starts beating fast but I deflate my BCD and sink just like Gregory told me. Williams is there hovering just above the ocean bed and once I’ve managed to stabilise my buoyancy, he signals to ask if I’m okay. I make a circle with my index finger and thumb then interlace my fingers and hold my hands together at my waist like Gregory taught me. Williams signals for me to follow him and as I do, I notice Gregory slide in line beside me.

  It takes me a minute or two to adjust to being in the water, trying to remember everything I learned and swim and float at the same time. Gregory stays right by my side the whole time and signals to ask if I’m okay. My breaths come thick and fast, many more bubbles rising from my regulator than the number coming from Williams and Gregory combined. Gregory rolls onto his back and looks me in the eye, reassuring me and making me feel safe. My breathing calms and when he’s satisfied, he drifts back to my side. He takes my hand, rolling his thumb across my knuckles, guiding me along with him.

  Now. Calm. Safe. I start to appreciate this new, colourful, exquisite underworld. We move over corals, pinks, purples, blues. Gregory points out an enormous aqua and purple giant clam that snaps shut when we move close. Small orange weed-type things, beautiful and bright, like jelly, are just like I’ve seen on TV. Gregory leaves me briefly to swim to the mini bushes and points out a fish that looks just like Nemo.

  I hear a ting and I’m surprised by how easily I can manoeuver to look at Williams tapping his tank with a piece of metal. He places one hand over the other, fingers bent, interlaced and pointing to the seabed, and he turns his thumbs in circles. Gregory moves quickly at the signal I don’t recognise and, taking my hand, he glides us towards the spot Williams is watching. A huge, beautiful green turtle moves its arms elegantly up and down and drifts through the water. The sight is so profound the bubbles from my regulator stop until Gregory taps my back.

  The most important rule is to breathe, Scarlet
t, you mustn’t hold your breath under water.

  I nod and take a breath that makes me rise in the water so Gregory has to take my hand quickly and pull me back to his level, where I continue watching the turtle and follow behind as it swims away from us. When it eventually moves into the distance, I’m so giddy I roll in the water, amazed at the feeling of complete weightlessness. Freedom. So far removed from the real world. And I get to share my Technicolor heaven with the man of my dreams.

  His eyes are beaming when he swims alongside me. I point to my eye, then my heart, then right at him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Yesterday, Richard confirmed that the tabloid has agreed to settle. D.I. Barnes confirmed that Trina has been suspended on suspicion of releasing a conspiracy theory to the press. We’re one week into our holiday and since their talk, Gregory and Amanda are getting along, possibly even enjoying each other’s company.

  Yet, I wake to find myself alone in bed for the third time in five nights and I wish I knew how to help him.

  I’ve been doing what I know, what we know, helping him forget. But the effect wears off. It doesn’t stop the next nightmare from coming.

  “Come to bed,” I whisper into his naked back as I stroke his shoulders.

  He’s leaning over the rail of the yacht with a crystal glass of liquor, most likely Scotch. “I’ll be back shortly. You go, baby, get some sleep.”

  I lie in bed, tossing and turning, wishing he would come back to me. As tiredness takes over my thoughts, a sense of uneasiness fills my mind. I might think my own worries about Katrina Martin were irrational if I didn’t know the same thoughts were keeping Gregory up every night and sending him back to his dark, closed world.

  * * *

  I stretch in the brightness of our bedroom, sunlight beaming in through the small window and reflecting off the bright walls. I’ve managed to sleep until after ten; that’s practically unheard of. The disrupted previous nights have obviously taken their toll.

  After a shower, I dirty back up with an application of suntan lotion, then pull on one of several pairs of light denim shorts Julia and Lucas packed for me. Pairing the shorts with a white vest over a shimmering silver-grey bikini, I head out to the deck.

  Bertie has left plates of food from breakfast on the table, covered by linen napkins. I pour a coffee and take it with a slice of fresh bread and jam to the sun loungers where Amanda is laid out with the latest copy of Vogue.

  I settle onto the lounger next to her. “Morning.”

  “Hey. What do you think of this?” She turns the open pages of Vogue to face me and I’m confronted by images of ten vintage designer prams. “I’m thinking of going old chic. I think Baby would like it.”

  Holding my hand in the air and turning my wrist whilst I swallow the bread in my mouth, I nod. “I like them. Erm, why do you have a baby magazine hidden inside Vogue?”

  “Meh, Ed keeps telling me to calm down but it’s exciting, you know. I have so many ideas for clothes, the nursery. Oh gosh, there are some amazing Christening ideas in here, too. I mean, I think we should be married before the Christening, it doesn’t seem right otherwise, but there’s no harm in future proofing. And, of course, we still need to think about a house for us all.”

  “A house? Wouldn’t you stay in Williams’s place?”

  “Ongoing discussion. Ed has a two bed but I think we need a house. A home for Baby.”

  “Wow, Amanda, I don’t say this to be shitty, really I don’t.”

  “But you think I need to calm down, too?”

  “I, no, not calm down, it’s cute that you’re so excited. Just, maybe remember that Williams might need a little more time to come round.”

  “I know. Bloody men. That’s why I’m hiding the mag. In my defence, he didn’t need time to knock me up.”

  I splutter through my mouthful of coffee. “Fair point. I’m sure you remind him often enough.”

  She grins then rests her mag down on her stomach, adjusting her leaf-patterned bikini.

  “Where are they anyway?”

  Amanda points a finger in the direction of the sea, completely disinterested.

  Taking my coffee to the side of the deck, I watch both men blazing across the water on high-polished, purple and grey Jet Skis, wearing board shorts, bare chests and huge grins. They power straight towards each other, so fast my shoulders rise to my ears the closer they get. I hold my breath when they’re just meters apart and practically exhale the words, “Holy shit!” when they both turn right at the last minute.

  I watch them for twenty minutes or so before Gregory looks over and notices me, holding up a hand in the air as he stands on his Jet Ski and rides back towards the boat.

  “Get here,” he shouts, as he pulls the Jet Ski up to the steps at the back of the yacht.

  I run, giggling with excitement to the back of the boat. “I’ve never been on a Jet Ski.” Carl fixes me into a blue life jacket. “How come I have to wear one of these and you don’t?”

  “Because you’re small and delicate and you’ve never ridden a Jet Ski before and I love you.”

  Grinning, I hold out my hand for him to help me onto the back of his man toy. “You win.” Tucking into his back, I wrap my hands tightly around his waist.

  “Hold on, baby, I’m going to take you for the ride of your life.”

  He skids across the water and sets off in a straight line, turning slightly into the rolling sea. I bounce in my seat, holding onto him tighter with each wave. Water sprays in my face so I can hardly see but adrenalin has me screaming in delight.

  “I want to drive!” I shout over the roar of the engine and the crashing of water.

  “What?”

  “I want to give you the ride of your life, handsome.”

  He throws his head back with a laugh but slows the Jet Ski to a stop. He unclips the plastic spiral wire that’s attached to his shorts. “Alright, climb around me and attach this to your jacket.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a safety wire. If you come off the wire unclips and kills the engine.”

  “Am I going to come off?”

  “If you drive like a buffoon you might.”

  I laugh hard from my abdomen. “I’ll show you a buffoon.”

  I twist the handle bar right back and we shoot off across the water, crashing over waves and landing with a thud.

  “Scarlett, slow down, you’re insane.”

  “High and fast, baby!” I shout, enjoying the feel of his chest chugging against my back and his arms wrapped tightly around me.

  I turn us into corners, lifting us out of our seats, water blazing into my face. God, this is fun!

  Eventually, I slow us down in the middle of the sea and enjoy his arms roaming across my stomach. “I don’t ever want to go home.”

  “Me neither, baby.”

  I lean back into him with a heavy sigh. “I wish it could be just us, like this, always.”

  “But you know what, I’m looking forward to going home. To our home and having you all to myself, in our bed, on our sofa, on our desk, in our shower.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this.”

  “Every minute of every day.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Three more days until I can tie you to our bed and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.”

  “I’m not sure that’ll ever happen.”

  * * *

  Around lunchtime, Richard emails a scan of the settlement agreement signed on behalf of the tabloid. I run off a copy in Gregory’s small on-boat office and have him sign before scanning the executed version back to Richard to file.

  “Would you like wine with lunch today?” Bryony asks when the four of us take our seats and wait for Bertie’s legendary fish stew.

  “Bring a
bottle of Pol Rodger first, Bryony,” Gregory says.

  With full glasses—well, Amanda’s one third full—Amanda and Williams eye Gregory, waiting for a clue as to why we’re drinking champagne. There’s no speech to toast, no acknowledgement of what I know Gregory is feeling. He tips his glass subtly in my direction.

  We fended off this attack and we’ll fend off every other attack that comes our way. Together.

  Gregory takes hold of my hand on top of the table and strokes my knuckles. The conversation changes to chocolate, old and new, the brands we remember from the nineties, the prices then and the extortion of a chocolate bar today. We’re all pretty convinced the price has gone up and the size gone down. The conversation is animated and Gregory and I are as involved as the others but beneath the table, my foot slips lazily over the skin of his exposed calf. He doesn’t react, which I see as a challenge I’d like to conquer.

  Sipping the cool champagne, I slide my foot higher, over the seam of his beige shorts. Still no reaction. As he speaks, I work my toes higher still and halt over his crotch. He stops talking and shuffles slightly, pushing back against my instep.

  “Wouldn’t you agree, Scarlett?” Williams asks.

  “Ah, yes, yep, sure.”

  “What do you agree with, Scarlett?” Gregory asks, his head angled to one side, a delicious half smile, cocky and sexy as hell, drawn on his lips.

  I jab my foot gently into his package. “What Williams said.”

  Williams continues to talk and Amanda jumps in to protest against whatever his line of argument is. I increase the pressure of my toes over Gregory’s growing bulge.

  “Here we go, guys. No shellfish in this one for you,” Bryony says, putting a large white bowl in front of Amanda. She places a regular bowl, with shellfish, in front of me and Bertie places two similar bowls in front of Williams and Gregory.

  I rub the ball of my foot across Gregory’s crotch one last time before he reaches down, squeezing my toes until I yelp and bang my knee off the underside of the table. Gregory glares at me, shaking his head, as Williams tries to stop a smirk pulling on his lips.