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“Gregory likes eggs on a Monday once he’s done with the gym and his run but I had a sneaky feeling he might have company for breakfast so I bought bacon, granola, yoghurt and fresh fruit. Oh, and bagels.”

  Holding my coffee in two hands, I glance at the items on the bench and to the open fridge. “I, erm—”

  “Oh dear, listen to me. When I talk too much just say, ‘Amy, you’re talking too much.’ You might not want breakfast yet. Do you get ready first? However-which-way is fine. You just tell me your routine and I’ll work around you.”

  She stands in front of me, smiling expectantly. “Okay. Coffee is good for now. I’ll get dressed then maybe I’ll eat with Gregory.”

  “Oh, no, not on a Monday, he likes to get started early on a Monday.”

  “Right. Okay. So maybe I’ll have strawberries and yoghurt when I’m dressed, is that alright?”

  Amy chuckles, a sweet sound that makes her nose scrunch and her cheeks widen. “Yes, yes, yes. Off you pop. It’ll be ready when you come back down. Oh and Scarlett, if you need anything doing, washing, whatever, just let me know. I’m here every day during the week and sometimes on a weekend if Gregory needs me.”

  “How come we haven’t met?”

  “Well, I’ve had some time off. I was ready for a break and Gregory was keen for me to take some time off too.”

  He was keeping you safe.

  “My kids had holidays from school. He’s good like that, your man, lets me have time off when I need it for the kids. Then any time I have been here, I’m told you’ve always been at work.”

  “Sounds about right. Thanks for the coffee.”

  * * *

  Gregory holds his mug part way between the breakfast bar and his lips and stares at me as I make my way down the stairs towards him, my hair hanging across one shoulder as I fasten pearl earrings in place. He’s already dressed in a navy suit with a white shirt and crisp powder-blue tie, his hair damp with product. Casual weekend Gregory is hot but Gregory in a suit... I could take him right here and now.

  “Scarlett, hop up here and get your breakfast,” Amy chimes.

  I slip onto the stool beside Gregory, adjusting my black skirt to make sure the lace tops of my stockings are covered.

  The familiar ringtone of a Blackberry breaks the peace of the room.

  “Ryans!”

  I eat my strawberries whilst Gregory takes his call and I’m wrapping myself into my knee length black coat when he returns.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for work?” he asks me, putting his Blackberry into his inside pocket.

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “By that do you mean you’re burying your head in the water?”

  I laugh, genuinely, grateful for the short relief, and take a step towards him. “I think you mean burying my head in the sand,” I say, cheekily biting my bottom lip.

  He moves closer to me until I’m wilting under his devastating browns and the feel of his breath on my skin. “In South Africa we might say putting your head in the Great White’s jaws.”

  “I’d love to.”

  He turns his scowl to a beautiful smile, the kind my Sexy Bazillionaire CEO rarely shares. “Let’s go.”

  “We’re going together?” I ask.

  He cocks his head to one side in a silly-girl-what-are-you-thinking kind of way.

  “I guess so,” I mumble, following him to the lift.

  We walk out to the biting air, where Kenneth is waiting on the street in the Mercedes. Gregory glares at the driver window and I know he’s thinking Jackson would be out of the car and holding the door open by now. Kenneth continues to tap his fingers on the steering wheel in time to whatever he’s listening to inside and jumps when Gregory flings open the back door. Lucky for Kenneth, Gregory’s Blackberry is screaming for his attention again.

  “Ryans!” he snaps into the handset whilst inclining his head to tell me to get into the car. My playful Gregory is lost to the white-collar world. “Sydney, has Williams briefed you?”

  Taking my seat next to Gregory and scrolling through my own Blackberry, the email count in my inbox rises to thirty-six.

  “Right. Yes. I know. Yes. I’ll give you the rest when I get to the office. Twenty minutes. No, that’s absolutely not acceptable. Sydney, calm down, you’ll handle this in the same way you deal with all other PR, negative or otherwise. Okay, I’ll have Anya clear my calendar for this morning, make sure you’re in my office. My what? The Times? Okay, what time? My office? Well, can’t they do it in my office? It’s an interview, why does it matter where we are? Christ, what kind of photographs? Right, here’s what you’re going to do. Call them, tell them they come to me or we rearrange. The shots can be taken at my desk. Sydney, it’s not open for discussion.”

  He hangs up the phone and presses two buttons then holds the Blackberry back to his ear. “Four rings, Anya. Explain to me why you’d answer my call after four rings. Please tell me your job title. Mmm-hmm, personal assistant to whom? That’s right, which means when I call, you stop talking to Melanie from IT and you answer the phone. Stop, I don’t want to hear it. I need you to clear my diary this morning and my interview for The Times Magazine will be in my office this afternoon.”

  He hangs up again and repeats the same process of pressing two buttons and putting the phone to his ear. “Two rings. Better.”

  “Wow, taking no prisoners this morning are you, Mr. Ryans?”

  The look he casts in my direction tells me he’s not in the mood to play. He rests his elbow on the window frame and holds his bent knuckles to his lips, looking out to the flurry of suits and briefcases we pass on the street.

  “It’s the glass high-rise building just there, Kenneth,” I say, pointing unhelpfully out my window.

  I rummage through my tote for my security pass and take two pound coins from my purse. It occurs to me that I don’t know what to do next. Do I just get out of the car? Do I lean in and give him a peck on the cheek? Do we kiss? I’ve never driven to work with a man before, let alone a man who’s also my client, and I’ve certainly never driven to work with a man as complex as Gregory Ryans.

  The car stops and I decide that just climbing out and saying goodbye is perhaps the best approach. I open the door myself, Kenneth really not getting how this works, and shuffle my feet to the pavement.

  “Where are you going?” Gregory asks.

  “To work,” I say, twisting to look at him over my shoulder.

  He leans his head to one side and raises a brow. “Not without giving me a kiss you’re not.”

  I sigh as if to turn and kiss him is the biggest chore of my life but little men in my stomach are dancing in delight. Lifting my feet back into the car, I press my lips to his. “Have a good day, Mr. Ryans.”

  “And you, Miss Heath.”

  I’m still smiling when Kenneth pulls away from the kerbside and honks his horn as he weaves into rush hour traffic.

  “I sit every day just waiting for my chance and now you’ve found yourself a rich man. Tell me I can still hope?”

  I smile at Paul sitting on the ground by the entrance to my office block, his plastic cup empty in front of him. He must be freezing. His blue sleeping bag is wrapped around him and only a piece of cardboard separates his body from the freezing cold concrete. He’s shivering but as charming as always.

  I crouch in front of him. “Did you manage to get a space to sleep last night?” I ask, placing my two pound coins into his cup.

  He nods. “Got a bed.”

  “Did you indeed?”

  “Sure did, I’ve been winking at my soup angel. She’s falling for me, I know it. She keeps looking out for me.”

  “So all that business about still hoping for a chance, it’s all rubbish, you’ve found yourself a soup angel?”

  He chuckles, the kind that
lifts his shaking shoulders. Though I’m smiling, my heart breaks for Paul, the young man with no home, no possessions and whose story I don’t know but who can laugh and smile and be polite despite everything.

  I open my bag, not at all worried that he might try anything funny because he never has, and take out my grey wool gloves. “Here, take these, I’m sorry about the bows.”

  “I think they’ll look good on me,” he smiles.

  “Me too.”

  He puts on the gloves without delay, wriggling his fingers to stretch the wool. “Thanks, Scarlett.”

  “You’re welcome. Happy hunting.”

  Making my way to the revolving office doors, I call back to him. “Paul, hot drinks and food, okay?”

  “Sure thing.”

  In truth, I don’t mind what he spends my two pounds on and I never do because the reality is, my two pounds can’t buy him a home and if I was living on the cruel streets of London, I might spend my last penny on a drop of alcohol to numb the pain too.

  As the lift doors open, Margaret walks past with a stack of ring binders and I fall into the same stride as her kitten heels.

  “Good morning, Scarlett. Your latte is on your desk and I’ve sorted the mail. Only one letter you need to action. I’ve popped it in your top tray. Did you have a good weekend? How was the big party?”

  I stop dead in my tracks, regretting that I haven’t had the foresight to prepare a response to simple questions like this. Margaret looks back over her shoulder and I quicken my pace to catch up to her. “It was fine, thank you. Did you have a nice weekend?”

  “Nice but tiring. My daughter brought my grandson to visit and we had a pyjama party on Saturday night. He’s a little bundle of treasure and terror all wrapped up in one three—year-old body. Before I forget, Neil Wallace has a brunch with a potential client at the Savoy this morning and he’d like you to go along if you’re free.”

  “Am I free?”

  “You can be if I juggle your diary. You’ve got a call with the CEO of the Platinum Spring Hotel Group ten until eleven but I’ve checked your emails and it looks more like a catch up call than an instruction so I could bring it forward to nine thirty or bump it to tomorrow, then you could go to the brunch.”

  “What time’s the table at the Savoy?”

  “Eleven.”

  “Who booked my meeting with Richard Blakely, him or his PA?”

  “His PA.”

  “Okay, bump the meeting to tomorrow and let Neil know I can go to brunch, please. Do you know who he’s entertaining?”

  “I’ve already printed some information from their website and left it on your desk.”

  “What would I do without you, Margaret? You’re a star.”

  She blushes and rolls her eyes. “Oh and one more thing, an appointment just came through from Mr. Ryans at GJR Enterprises. I haven’t accepted it yet but it mentions an interview with The Times Magazine at GJR’s office, does that ring any bells?”

  “I’ll deal with that one, thanks, Margaret.”

  I take a seat at my light wood desk, dump my laptop into its docking station and fire up my computer then take a big gulp of latte. As I’m typing in my username and password, Amanda struts into my office then plants her hands on the hips of her grey tailored dress.

  “What are you doing here?” She’s whispering but her words are angry.

  “Happy Monday to you too.”

  “Scarlett, how aren’t you completely freaking out right now? You can’t be at work when, after, well, you know. I mean, holy shit, how are you?”

  My best friend is upset and I know it’s not just about me. Saturday was a shock for everyone and only now is it dawning on me that I’ve spent the last two days thinking about Gregory, Jackson and myself and not about the other people in my life.

  “Come here,” I say, rising from my desk and holding out my arms.

  Amanda walks straight into me and relaxes into my cuddle. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  She pulls back, shaking her head. “You’re asking me if I’m okay? Scarlett, babes, stop worrying about other people. Sit.”

  Despite how irritating it’s becoming to have everyone telling me what to do, I sit and Amanda plonks herself on the desk in front of me. She takes my hand in hers, bracing herself to tell me something I suspect she won’t be able to take back.

  “Whatever it is, Amanda, don’t. Please.”

  “No, I’m going to because if I don’t, I’m not sure anyone else will.” She takes a deep breath and straightens her back. “Gregory is bad news, Scarlett.”

  “Amanda, I said don’t.”

  “No. I was never his biggest fan, you know that. He’s miserable and arrogant but I could’ve gotten past that for you. Now, things are different. He’s killed a man and—”

  “Amanda, stop it.” My tone is low and surprisingly ominous.

  “No!” She’s standing now. “You shouldn’t be with someone like him. You’re nice, you’re perfect. You’re the person everyone looks to when they need to know what’s right and wrong. He’s no good for you.”

  I rise to confront her, matching her height in my heels. “That. Is. Enough.” The venom in my voice is so unfamiliar there could be a third person in the room.

  “For Christ’s sake, Scarlett, he’s a murderer!”

  My nostrils flare and my eyes feel like they’re going to explode. My lungs stretch with each deep draw of breath. My palm tenses and my fingers flex. If one of us doesn’t break this stare, I’ll slap her face. “Get. Out.”

  She stares at me for two seconds more then turns on the pointed toes of her shoes and makes to leave the room.

  “What would you have done, Amanda?” I call after her. “If you were him, in that room and that sick bastard was going to kill you, then me, what would you have done?”

  She’s thinking, turning my words through her mind. I know because she’s motionless. I don’t break the silence, I simply watch her until she leans her back against the door, facing me with her eyes closed. “I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

  My anger dissipates instantly as I move towards her, taking her hands in mine. “He did what he had to do to protect himself and me.”

  She slowly opens her eyes. “But he put you in that situation in the first place and he still killed a man.”

  “In self-defence.”

  “It doesn’t matter. How can you stay with him after that?”

  “Because he did the right thing in the circumstances and one night doesn’t define a person.” God, I hope it doesn’t.

  “He killed a man, Scarlett.”

  “Amanda, I won’t ever leave him and if you and I are going to be able to get past this, you need to never ask me to leave him again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

  “Please tell me this isn’t about your dad.” My heart nearly stops beating. Does she know? “It’s still so recent. I don’t want you to think you need Gregory because you don’t. You have me and you’ve got Sandy.”

  I exhale slowly. “I do need him, Amanda, but not because I feel alone.”

  “But how, Scarlett? How? Why?”

  “Because I love him, Amanda, wholly, completely, with every breath and heartbeat in my body. I love him.”

  “Holy shit,” she whispers. “Come here.” She pulls me into her body and gives me an Amanda bear hug. “And he loves you?”

  A light tap on the door breaks our hold and saves me from having to answer the question I wish I knew the answer to, the question I keep begging my subconscious not to ask. We step away from the door.

  “Come in,” I say.

  A young boy in an ill-fitting suit and too-skinny tie, but with quite a handsome face, is looking at us nervously. “Erm, I’m looking for Scarlett Heath.”

 
“Yes, that’s me. And you are?”

  “Jonathan, Jon, Jonnie Pencey.”

  “Which is it?” I ask as he thrusts his hand too anxiously, first to me, and then to Amanda. His hand is clammy and trembling.

  “Erm, err, Jon, I think.”

  Amanda sniggers and I glare at her.

  “Sorry. I’m Jon, I’ll start again. I’m the new trainee in the Corporate team. I’ve been pulled out of my seat in the Banking team because Corporate needs more support. I was told to see you and help with whatever you need.”

  “Right. Who sent you?”

  “Neil Wallace.”

  “Okay, well I’ve got a lot of work on so I could definitely use some support. Whose office will you be sharing?”

  “Amanda Darling but I’m not sure who—”

  “Me?” Amanda all but yells. “Why do I have to have a trainee? Don’t move your stuff in yet, Jonnie.”

  With that she turns on her heels and storms out of my office.

  “She’ll come round,” I offer. “I need to get sorted and I’ve got meetings most of today but get yourself set up and I’ll come to see you with work. Are you a first year trainee or second year?”

  “Second.”

  That’s helpful. Trainees rotate in a firm spending four sets of six months in different departments. It gives the firm a chance to see if it wants to keep them on at the end of their training contract and gives the trainee a chance to try out four different specialisms and see which they like best. Getting help from a first year trainee is almost as useful as a mojito with no rum but by their second year, they know their way around a little better.

  “Which other seats have you completed?”

  “Erm, Commercial, Tax and I’ve done two months in Banking.”

  “Fine. If you need secretarial support you can speak to Margaret for today but I suspect you’ll share Amanda’s secretary going forward.”

  “Excellent. Thanks, Scarlett.”

  I walk around my desk and sit back into my office chair. Jon is still watching me when I raise my head from my computer screen to look at him seconds later. “Was there anything else, Jon?”

  “Ah, err, no, sorry.” His cheeks flush pink and he shakes his head before scurrying out of the office.