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  “I know. I do. I just thought, what with things the way they are at the moment.”

  He leans forward on the table towards me. “Are you uncomfortable in the apartment without me?”

  I hadn’t even thought of being alone in the Shard. “I don’t know. I haven’t been there alone since...”

  “Jackson will be there. I could ask him to stay in a bedroom closer to ours if that would make you more comfortable.”

  I laugh. “Actually, that would make me much less comfortable.”

  “I can’t understand why,” he says, his lips slightly upturning.

  I squirm a little in my seat, not knowing quite how to phrase my next question. “Are you actually allowed to leave the country?”

  Gregory sits back sharply. “I’ve not been charged.”

  The mood in the room instantly changes and I wish I’d never said anything.

  “I could come with you, you know, if you need legal support?”

  There’s a shimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ll only be gone a couple of days. I’ll be back by the weekend. We have plans.”

  “We do?”

  “Yes. It’s Opening Meet of the season on Saturday. I thought you’d come with me.”

  “Opening Meet?”

  “Fox hunting.”

  “Fox hunting. Isn’t that banned?”

  “Hmm, not exactly. There’re rules around leaving fake scent, rather than chasing real foxes, but people still hunt.”

  “So you ride horses?”

  “I ride a horse. Yes.”

  My mind floods with images of Mr. Darcy and white knights except it’s Gregory’s toned pecs beneath the see-through wet shirt.

  “You’ll come.”

  I bite my gums. “That’s not a question.”

  “You’re very observant, Miss Heath. You’ll need a dinner dress and some country clothes.”

  “Country clothes?”

  “Yes. I’ve already arranged for you to see Julia on Thursday evening. She’ll find you something appropriate.”

  I sigh, more huffily than I really intend. “I can pick my own clothes, Gregory, and I don’t need your Harrods stylist to force unnecessarily expensive brands on me.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine?” Surely I didn’t just get my own way.

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t tell you the price or brand name of any item.” There’s an unmistakeable and frankly irritating arrogance about him.

  “I have clothes. You can’t buy me something new every time we go out together.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Urgh! You infuriate me.”

  “And your attempt at defiance rather infuriates me,” he muses, forming a steeple with his fingers. “In fact, I think I ought to take you home right now and teach you a lesson.”

  My eyes blink in shock but my heart rate increases at the thought of him spanking me. The feeling of sinful pleasure that only Gregory has ever shown me. “I can’t finish for the day, I have work to do and chargeable hours targets to meet.”

  “Goddamn it, Scarlett, stop defying me!”

  His abruptness startles me and tells me he’s as tightly wound as I am, yet my thighs pulse in response to his demand. I glance down, expecting to see the throbbing of blood pumping to my sex. My nipples harden against the lace of my bra.

  “What happens if I do?”

  A low rumbling growl leaves his chest. “Fuck your targets.” He charges towards me and attacks my mouth with his, pulling me up to stand.

  My notebook falls to the floor as I dig my fingers into his thick dark hair yanking hard, annoyed that he’s demanding control of me. Frustrated with myself for being so dependent on this man. Angry that there’s so much going on in my head I can’t think straight. Pissed that I’m trapped in a situation and the only way I can think to fix it is to tell the truth but I’m being stopped from doing so.

  “Home. Now.”

  With one hard grind of his hips against mine, I’m groaning agreement into his mouth and desperate for him to fuck me. Hard. Rough. Ferocious. The way I’m feeling.

  “Not here,” he says, although his length pressed up against me tells me he’s as ready as I am.

  He separates us, leaving me pining and furious. He retrieves my notebook from the floor and watches me pack away my files as he presses two buttons on his Blackberry. “We’re ready now,” he snaps into his phone. His eyes are darker than ever.

  We leave the meeting room feigning professionalism, walking side by side but not so close that passing staff would suspect our relationship is anything other than CEO and legal advisor. Kenneth opens the rear door of the Mercedes and I crawl inside. Gregory slips into the other side and glares at Kenneth through the rear view mirror until he rolls up the partition between the front and back of the car. It’s a look that tells me I’m not alone in needing to vent what’s pent up inside.

  “I never thought I’d actually need Jackson to come back,” Gregory says through a tense jaw.

  “How’s Kenneth supposed to know your demanding ways after a few days?”

  He turns his head on his headrest to face me as Kenneth manoeuvres the car into traffic. “My demanding ways?”

  I move across the seat, hitching my skirt to straddle his hips, pinning his shoulders to the seat. “Your isms,” I say, biting his lobe. “Your quirks.” I dig my teeth into his neck. “Your obsessive ways.”

  He pulls my chin and holds it where my eyes are level with his, his grip too tight. “There’s only one thing I’m obsessed with right now.” He kisses me chastely and pulls the back of my thighs, pressing me tighter up against him, letting me feel him grow beneath me. “You have no idea what you do to me. I can’t stand seeing you like I did today. Knowing what I’ve brought on you. I need you to talk to me and listen to me.”

  “Christ, Gregory, you’ve got to stop seeing this as your problem. It’s our problem. And I do listen to you. We’re doing all of this your way, not mine.”

  He drags his fingers through my hair. “You shouldn’t have gone to work today.”

  If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have introduced Dubai, yet another dilemma, to my presently screwed-up life. “What do you want me to do? Let Pearson ruin another life? He’s already doing a good enough job as it is without me losing my career too.”

  “Don’t say that, Scarlett. I won’t let him ruin you. I won’t let my past spoil who you are.”

  “He murdered my father, Gregory, and I killed him. I’d say I’m already spoiled.”

  He tugs harder on my hair and bites down on my lip, hurting me in a way I want. “No,” he growls into my mouth.

  My legs part further, drawing me down onto his crotch.

  “Keep talking to me, baby, please. I need to know how you’re feeling. I need you to be okay. I have to protect you.”

  I roll my pelvis against him, desperate to feel him, for us to connect in a way that lets me know he wants me. “Why? Why do you need to protect me?” Tell me. Please. Say those three words.

  The Mercedes jerks to a stop and Kenneth drops us at the front entrance to the Shard. The interruption fuels the raging fire inside me. Gregory tells Kenneth to take my files to the apartment once the car is parked then offers a firm hand to help me out. The same hand drags me frantically through the doors of the Shard. The yank on my arm is more than uncomfortable but I don’t complain; the sooner we reach the apartment the better.

  As we wait, Gregory glances from me to the lift repeatedly, his eyes dark, his jaw set. The chatter of suits entertaining and tourists making their way up to the viewing platform surrounds us.

  “Gregory, I thought that was you.”

  The voice belongs to a balding, upper-middle-class suit with a rounded belly and the scent of wine already on his b
reath.

  “Francis, it’s been a while,” Gregory offers in a less than friendly tone.

  “How are you, old boy?”

  “Well. And you?”

  “Fair to middling, fair to middling.” Awkward silence descends and Francis flicks his head in my direction.

  “Francis, allow me to introduce you to Scarlett Heath.” Gregory steps to one side and places a possessive hand on my lower back as I shake Francis’s hand.

  “An absolute delight I’m sure.” Francis runs greedy eyes from my head to my toes, making my skin crawl.

  “Francis is a director of Carter’s Private Equity House,” Gregory explains. In other words, Francis has the power to make big investments in business ventures. Suddenly it’s clear to me why Gregory’s entertaining a man he quite obviously dislikes.

  “Yes, I’ve worked on a deal of yours recently actually.”

  “You’re an accountant?” Francis asks.

  “She’s a lawyer,” Gregory says, his chest puffed to full stretch. “Excuse us, Francis.” Gregory tosses his head in the direction of our lift, the only one to service the residential floors of the building, and guides me forward, still with his hand on my lower back.

  “See you Saturday then, old boy!” Francis calls, seemingly oblivious to the animosity teeming out of Gregory.

  As soon as the lift doors close Gregory lunges at me, crashing his mouth onto mine, thrusting me back against the wall. My lips part, accepting his warm, wet tongue and welcoming his teeth against the plump flesh of my lips, already tender from the drive.

  The lift pings and the doors open on Gregory’s floor. He takes my hand, pulling me from the lift.

  “Not fast enough,” he growls before hitching my skirt and lifting my thighs around his waist. He opens the door with one hand and carries me straight through the lounge and up the stairs as I nibble the heated flesh of his neck.

  He plants me on my stiletto heels in his bedroom then holds my face and lets me see the hunger in his brown pools before he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth and slowly draws back. “Strip.”

  I blink, startled, but my hands respond, unbuttoning my suit jacket. I let it fall down my arms then cast it to the chaise longue. I feel in control, like I’m reclaiming some of the power I lost. And weirdly, I feel sexy. Slowly, tortuously, I undo the buttons of my blouse one by one, each time exposing a little more of my lingerie and all the while watching Gregory as his eyes follow my hands. I let the blouse float to the ground and turn my back to him as I roll down the zip of the skirt and push it to the floor, bending forward like a temptress who’s actually done this before to lift my stocking clad legs out of the skirt. Hearing Gregory’s heavy breaths spurs me on. I turn my head over my shoulder and part my lips.

  “Fucking hell.” He inhales, his palm moving to rub the erection bulging in his trousers. I can’t believe how much I want him.

  He steps towards me and runs his fingers up the backs of my thighs then snaps my garter against my leg.

  “Ouch!”

  “That’s nothing, baby, I’m just getting started.”

  He yanks me to him, pulling my back to his chest, and slides his hand down my abdomen then finally to my sex, cupping my labia over my thong. I lean back into him, my hips rising to meet his hand. He turns my chin to face him. I so desperately want to kiss him but I’m not quite done being a seductress yet.

  Turning, I unwind the tie from his neck, throwing it onto the chaise longue. He yanks my waist towards him and moves to kiss me but I shoot him a warning look.

  “That’s very daring.” He chastises me but his words are low and husky. “Controlling Scarlett.”

  “You created her,” I say, pushing his suit jacket down his tensed biceps and to the floor.

  “And I’ll be the one to tame her. That’s a seven thousand pound suit you just dropped on the floor.”

  I smirk briefly then get back to my mission—to torture this magnificent man until he can understand just how furious he makes me. I unbutton his shirt, trailing kisses down his firm chest with each inch exposed. I unhook his cufflinks and push the shirt down his arms to meet his suit jacket in a pool. Then set to work on his belt. I move my hand into his trousers and take hold of his solid erection.

  “Fuck, Scarlett, you drive me fucking crazy,” he says, throwing his head back.

  He kicks off his shoes when I pull his trousers and boxers to the ground then lifts each leg out and removes his socks at a rate of knots.

  “I’m going to show you exactly how crazy you make me.” I have no choice in the matter. He pulls me to him then lifts my thighs to his waist. My hands lock behind his neck as he unhooks my bra with one hand and I let it fall to the floor. His lips are quickly back on mine and he moves us to the bed, bringing me to sit on his lap.

  “Lean back,” he orders.

  I meet his demand, exposing myself to him. My back arches in response to his fingers trailing down my chest to the rim of my suspender belt. He releases me then moves my thong to one side, thrusting two fingers into me roughly. I groan and grip the duvet in clenched fists, my hips gyrating, begging to be fucked. He draws back and slides his wet fingers over my clit then rams three fingers into me, moving his thumb over my swollen bud. He pumps his hand, his rhythm unforgiving. He wants me to come fast. He wants to show me who’s boss. My mind fights against him but my body builds towards an explosive orgasm. My muscles tense with fury. This is coming, he’s making sure of it.

  “Gregory!”

  “Come for me, baby. Let me take care of you. Let me make things right.”

  My breaths are erratic. My hips buck as his fingers become increasingly determined.

  “Gregory! Yes! Yes!” I explode around him on a scream.

  His strokes slow, giving my body a chance to return to a state of comprehension.

  “Mmm,” I moan in sheer blissful loveliness, my eyes closing.

  “Oh no you don’t.” He rises and pulls my thong down my legs then lifts me back up the bed, planting himself between my thighs, his forearms either side of my head. “You have no idea how much of a turn on it is to see what I do to you.”

  He circles his hips, pressing his hard, throbbing cock into my navel. I’m instantly back in wanton mode.

  “Lift your legs,” he says, encouraging me with his palms beneath my thighs then guiding me to place a leg on each of his shoulders. Before I have a chance to adjust to the position he thrusts his enormous length deep inside me, both of us gasping.

  He holds himself still, closing his eyes and as desperate as I am for him to take me, I let him have his moment. Then he moves with purpose, pulling out of me and crashing back in, the position of my legs letting him immerse his cock fully inside me on a delicious medley of pleasure and pain.

  “You feel so fucking good, Scarlett.”

  The sound of his lust and his continuous crashing into me has me quickly building again. My hips rising to meet each drive forward, pushing him deeper.

  “Oh God!” I pant.

  “Wait.”

  I don’t know if I can. My head is blurring with my irregular breathing. My insides are pulsing around him. He drives forward with two more punishing blows.

  “I’m coming, Gregory.”

  “No,” he barks.

  He pulls out and flips my body forcefully so I’m on all fours. He yanks my hips back and I tense with anticipation, waiting for him to give me what he promised—my utterly welcome punishment. He strikes the globe of my arse and the sting, the knowledge that I mess with his head the way he does mine, lifts me to the fringe of another earth-shattering orgasm. He lands another blow then assaults me with his cock, unravelling my last modicum of self-control.

  “Now, Scarlett, give yourself up to me.”

  Another blow.

  “Say
it.”

  “It’s yours. I’m yours, Gregory, please.”

  He drives into me one more time and holds his position as we both erupt on a yell; our anger with each other, with the world, sated. For now.

  Chapter Seven

  “Amanda, where are you? It’s thirty-eight minutes past six.” I end my voicemail on a sigh and continue bouncing on the spongy heels of my gym shoes to fend off the frosty air. I don’t need to look to know my exposed shins will be blue and bobbled. I push my phone into the pocket of my zip-up and wrap my arms around my chest.

  “I’m here! I’m here!” Amanda pants, bounding around the corner onto Iron Mongers Row. “You should know my bed is royally pissed off with you. We were having a gorgeous snuggle this morning.”

  Despite my irritation and dry lips, I laugh. “Come on,” I say through chattering teeth.

  We make our way into the hot yoga temple, otherwise known as the basement of a house split into various commercial sublets. Amanda rubs the head of the giant smiling Buddha statue as she always does and blows him an air kiss.

  “Always happy to see me,” she purrs.

  The shower rooms are empty, the other hot yoga-ites already having made it to the practice room. I take my red pencil dress from my gym bag and hang it inside a locker, then dump my bag, trainers, socks and zip up and drag Amanda to our hot flow yoga class.

  The thirty-seven degree heat of the square, magnolia-walled room is a welcome blanket around my cold body. Kamal, our resident yoga instructor, peels himself from his mat where he was lying in savasana. He adjusts his hairband and purses his lips. “Ladies, you’re late, take up position.”

  “Sorry,” I whisper both to Kamal and the rest of the room. We’re always late but as this is a Tuesday class, the other yoga victims don’t know that.

  “Over there.” He gestures to two mats in the back corner of the room, tucked close together and right under two of the orange wall lamps maintaining the temperature of the room.

  “I’m not going there,” Amanda huffs. “I’ll fry!”

  “Amanda, stop being dramatic, we’re disrupting the class.” I give her a soft nudge in the ribs with my elbow and smile politely at Kamal.