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  “Yes, you are,” he confirms.

  We make our way to the mats, Amanda on a hiss. “I’ll disrupt the class even more when I pass out.”

  “You’re missing your relaxation time,” Kamal says, leaving us and walking back to his own mat at the front of the room, notably far away from the heat lamps. “Remember ladies and gents, no drinking during the session. We hydrate before and after the class, we don’t disrupt the flow.” He addresses the whole class but only Amanda sighs in response.

  “He’s kind of hot when he’s vexed, don’t you think?” Amanda says, thankfully quiet enough that only I can hear as we lay back into savasana.

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes, listening to the gentle sounds of animals awakening in the rainforest.

  “Clear your mind. Concentrate only on your breath. Deep in, fill your lungs. Gently out.” Kamal’s words are soft and controlled.

  Clear my mind. How hard can that be? I try to picture darkness, emptiness but there are a thousand images flying through my mind: work, guns, Gregory, my father, Sandy, Dubai. It’s day three in the countdown to the ballistics report and this is all really happening.

  “Let’s move to sun salutations,” Kamal directs gently as Eva Cassidy’s “Fields of Gold” fills the room. “Inhale on the rise. Swan dive, exhale.”

  “How are you feeling about everything today?” Amanda asks as we push back into a Downward Facing Dog.

  Exhaling, I push my hips back further to feel a burning stretch in the back of my legs. “Fine. Same.” I really don’t want to discuss Saturday or Gregory’s father or police or anything else. For an hour I’d just like to pretend everything is normal. I snort a laugh as I arch my back and press my hands, hips and toes to the mat—Cobra position. I’m not even sure what normal is anymore. I’ve spent so long focussing on other people that I just don’t know who Scarlett Heath really is. Daughter, lawyer, loyal friend. Orphan, insatiable hussy, murderer.

  “How was your brunch at the Savoy yesterday?”

  My outward breath is much harder than it probably ought to be.

  “What? Tell me.”

  “Neil wants me to go to Dubai on secondment.”

  “What? That’s amazing!” she shrieks.

  “Shhh.” Kamal’s glaring at us again.

  “Why don’t I get asked to go places like that?”

  “Would you want to?” I ask, dipping again into Downward Facing Dog.

  “Are you joking? Dubai is like the place to be right now. Party and fashion central.”

  “Hmm. Well, you might get a chance to go.”

  “You are kidding me,” she says, slumping to her mat as I move into Cobra again with the rest of the class. “Why on earth wouldn’t you go? You’re crazy.”

  “Amanda, come on. It’s hardly great timing.”

  She rises to her feet on an inhale but I’m not convinced her flaring nostrils are due to her Hatha breaths. “Don’t ruin your life because Mr. Bazillionaire decided to put a bullet in his pop’s head.”

  I want to dive on her and slap her face.

  “Ladies and gents, moving to standing strength positions now.” Kamal is speaking softly but his eyes are burning into Amanda and me.

  We move silently into Warrior Two, back leg straight, front leg bent, both arms held out from our shoulders. All the while I’m trying to breathe through my anger.

  “I’m just saying, now might be a good time to find out whether Gregory loves you back.”

  We move into Upward Warrior Two, a similar position but with one arm raised in the air and the other back and pointed to the ground. I follow my finger tips to look up at the ceiling. Salt water trickles down my cheek.

  “What if he doesn’t?” I inhale the words to myself.

  Though I’m sure Amanda doesn’t hear me, she does say, “Then at least you’ll know.”

  Will I go? Should I tell him?

  We comply with Kamal’s instruction and move into Triangle Pose. Ouch, this one always hurts my inner thigh but the distraction from other thoughts is welcome.

  “Anyway, what’s going on with you and Williams?”

  “Meh.” She flippantly wafts a hand. “Just fun.”

  I exhale and bend forward between my legs so I’m looking at the top of Amanda’s head.

  “Really, it seems like more than fun to me.” My words sound strangely garbled through my upside down head. “You’ve seen him a lot over the last five weeks.”

  She lifts her head until she’s looking at what must be my very red face and rolls her eyes.

  “I’m just saying.” See how you like it.

  “Actually, I’ve decided to cool it. I’m not going to see him for a while.”

  “For a while. Right. So you do intend to see him again?”

  We both stand and follow Kamal’s direction to strike Chair Pose. We bend our legs to a seated position and thrust our arms in the air. “Shoulders down, don’t let them ride to your ears. Relax. Slip deeper on each exhale. In, full. Out, down.”

  “Would you stop twisting everything I say, please?” Her words are scolding but there’s a faint upturn at the corners of her lips.

  “You like him.”

  “Stop. I don’t want all that stuff. I’m not ready to be grown-up and serious. I’m just in a playful place. It’s like Carrie Bradshaw says, play in your twenties, learn lessons in your thirties and pay the bill in your forties.”

  I smile, remembering our obsession with watching reruns of Sex and the City in pyjamas, with a gluttonous stash of chocolate and popcorn, at University. “That she does.”

  “I’m clinging to the last year or so of fun in my twenties.”

  “Let’s take it to the floor, ladies and gents, and lengthen our spines.” We move down to our mats in response to Kamal’s instructions. I’m grateful, my clothes are now sodden with the sweat teeming out of me and my legs are beginning to feel like jelly.

  Amanda flops onto her back and sighs, throwing her arms out from her shoulders and letting her head fall to the side to look at me.

  “I thought you said Williams is just fun. In which case, doesn’t he count as playing in your twenties?”

  “Urgh!” She groans, bringing her arms to flop across her face.

  The smile that rises on my face is quickly wiped away by the sight of a vexed-looking Kamal standing over us. “Ladies, pipe down or leave. People are trying to get in to this whether you are or not.”

  “Sorry, Kamal,” we sing in unison.

  We endure the remainder of the class in silence and I surprise myself by being able to concentrate on my mind and body instead of everything else going on in the world around me. By the end of the class I’m feeling completely rejuvenated. Kamal taps his gong to rouse us from the foetal position then we follow his moves, crossing our legs and bringing our hands to prayer position.

  “Good class today,” he says with three claps of his hands. “As always, to draw the full benefit from the class drink lots of water and eat lots of good fruit and vegetables throughout the day.”

  Another drawback to being positioned in the back corner of the room is that we’re last to the showers. Amanda tuts and taps her feet in the queue for the four cubicles as if she really wants to get to work. I know better than to fall for that.

  “Ew, you’d think people would shave when they know they’re showering in a glass cubicle.”

  “Amanda!” I nudge her but despite myself I can’t stop my eyes for running along the shower cubicles and finding the hairy armpit culprit.

  “Do you think I should offer her a razor?” I study Amanda’s face for signs of wit but I think she might actually be serious.

  “No, you can’t do that,” I say quietly, hoping Amanda might follow my lead. “She might like hairy pits.”


  “Who really likes hairy pits? Come on.”

  I wish the ground would open and swallow me up when the hairy woman turns off her shower and steps out of her cubicle. Amanda’s eyes follow the yeti as she walks from the cubicle in her birthday suit and collects her towel from the rack behind my head.

  “Amanda. Amanda. The shower.” Eventually, she shakes her head and makes her move for the free shower.

  The cool air is welcome as we leave the yoga studio. The result of hot yoga, a warm shower and twenty minutes blow-drying my hair is that my cheeks are flushed even beneath my light covering of makeup.

  “Ohhhhh that’s soooooo goooood!” Amanda groans, lifting her face to the sky. “Starbucks or Pret?”

  “Hmm, let’s go Pret today.”

  “Fabulous! Do you have much on later?”

  I sigh. “I really need to get my head down and draft a paper for Gregory.”

  “He puts a lot of work your way, doesn’t he?”

  “We’ll see. It’s early days really but he is for now. How about you? Are you busy?”

  “Not really. I’ve been keeping a low profile for a while but my utilisation figure is shocking. There’s absolutely no chance of me getting a bonus if I don’t put in some hours soon. Do you have anything you could pass my way?”

  I watch Amanda’s back as she makes her way to the counter of Pret. Working with her is a nightmare. As soon as she gets bored, she stops pulling her weight and keeping to deadlines seems to be her nemesis. But she needs my help. “Sure. I’ll take a look at the matters I’ve got on and hand a couple over.”

  “Great, thanks!” She casts the words back to me over her shoulder then returns her attention to the barista.

  I make my way to the next free server, depositing a banana and a bag of almonds on the counter and ask for a skinny latte. Amanda has perched herself on a stool in the window with coffee and a bacon and egg bagel. She chuckles when I take up the stool next to her, munching rapidly with hamster cheeks.

  “I feel like taking a picture of my breakfast and tweeting it to Kamal,” she says through a half-eaten, nasty blend of egg and bread.

  I laugh at the thought of his face. “For the record, what’s going on in your mouth is disgusting,” I say when I’m able to speak. “You should think about taking smaller bites.”

  She responds by wrapping her mouth around as much bagel as she can manage and taking a mammoth bite with a completely satisfied moan.

  * * *

  After checking my emails, I lock my computer screen and resolve to focus on the Shangzen Tek joint venture paper. I switch my Blackberry and iPhone to silent and divert my desk phone to Margaret. I really don’t have time for wayward thoughts and distractions today and I really would like to cling to my healthy post-yoga mind as long as possible.

  It’s almost twelve when I look up from my document for the first time. I’ve scribbled an outline which Margaret can type up and drafted a short list of colleagues in other departments who I need to ask for input. I unlock my screen to find, unsurprisingly, my email count has risen by double figures. The last three emails are from Margaret with subject lines reading, Mr. Ryans of GJR Enterprises has called, please return his call; Mr. Ryans has called again and asked that you return his call as soon as possible; Mr. Ryans has called a third time—said it is urgent.

  The two emails before Margaret’s are from Gregory, both asking me to call him. There are countless missed calls on my Blackberry and a text on my iPhone.

  Please call. I need you.

  There’s a sharp knock on my office door then Margaret appears wearing a rather harassed expression. “I’m sorry, Scarlett, I know you don’t want to be disturbed but—”

  “Mr. Ryans?”

  “Yes. He’s called again and he sounds very agitated. I really think you need to call him.”

  “Thanks, Margaret.”

  She leaves the office, closing the door behind her and I quickly scroll to Gregory’s number in my iPhone.

  “Gregory, what’s wrong?”

  He sighs, whether in relief or exasperation I’ve no idea.

  “I need you.” His words, just like his text, pull on strings in my stomach.

  Oh God, they’re going to charge him.

  “I’ve been given notice of an emergency Board meeting. It seems three of my directors are trying to get rid of me.”

  My heart rate calms. “Okay.” I try to shift my brain from the blind panic of Gregory being charged for murder and think about company law. “I’m guessing when you say directors you don’t mean Williams and Lawrence?”

  “No. Nick Henshaw, Tim Marshall and Jean-Paul Gaville, they’re directors of a European-focussed subsidiary. It’s not big, mostly research and development for gaming software but I won’t be pushed aside, Scarlett, not from any of my companies. I need you to fix this before I fly to Paris and fix it the wrong way.”

  “Alright, Gregory, calm down. Now’s not a good time for you to be losing your temper with people. Okay? Gregory, tell me you’ve heard me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, tell me the name of the company.”

  “Constant Sources.”

  “Suffix?”

  “Limited. It’s a private company.”

  “It’s incorporated in England?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, that makes things a little easier.”

  “Scarlett, they know about Saturday.”

  “That’s why they want rid of you,” I say, stating the obvious.

  “It’s their excuse. I acquired the company a couple of years ago. Retaining Nick, Tim and Jean-Paul was part of the deal. They’ve been looking for a way out for a long time, especially Nick. He used to have most control in the company and never really wanted the deal but the company was struggling before I acquired it.”

  “Right. Are you at your office?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stay put and stay calm. I need to get some documents from Companies House then I’ll head straight to you.”

  “I’ll send Kenneth.”

  “Okay,” I say, having no desire to challenge him. “You mentioned Paris, are all three directors based in France?”

  “Tim and Jean-Paul are in Paris. They’re flying in. Nick lives in London.”

  “Right. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

  Shit! Shit! Shit! The incessant headache that I thought I’d escaped today is working its way back with vengeance. Dropping my head into my hands, I roll my fingers over my temples. I knew it was a matter of time until someone outside our circle found out but how did they? Shit! If more people find out Gregory could be ruined, his companies could really suffer and there’ll be more than three directors calling for him to be out. I can’t let him lose his companies. The truth can save him and I need to make him realise that.

  “Okay, Scarlett, pull yourself together.” I tap my cheeks too hard. “He needs you.”

  I dart from my office to Margaret’s desk. “Margaret, I need you to get me the Articles of Association and information on the directors and shareholders of Constant Sources Limited and I need them now, please. Can you clear anything that’s in my diary for this afternoon too.”

  “Of course.”

  After quickly throwing things into my bag, I pull my coat over my red pencil dress and set my out-of-office reply before closing down my computer.

  “Margaret, do you have tho—”

  “Here you go.”

  Kenneth is waiting when I burst out of the revolving glass door. I bundle myself into the back of the Mercedes and start scouring the constitutional documents of Constant Sources. To my relief, Gregory isn’t outnumbered in directorships. Nick, Jean-Paul and Tim will have to take on Gregory, Williams and Lawrence. Then I run through the list of sharehold
ers but before I see the percentage holdings—in other words, the power they each hold to make decisions on behalf of the company—Kenneth opens the door for me. I make quick time into the office block, not sure whether I just think to say thank you or actually say it. The lift doors open to GJR Enterprises and I head straight for Gregory’s office, passing the dropped jaw of the leggy blonde—Francesca—I’ve come to dislike. She immediately picks up the phone at the front desk, I suspect to tell Mr. Ryans that there’s nothing she could do to stop the mad woman.

  His office is silent but for the sniffles of a woman who’s sitting in a leather chair on one side of Gregory’s large glass and chrome desk. He faces her, resting on the edge of his desk, his hands either side of his hips, his fingers hooked over the rim. All eyes in the room turn to me. Williams and Lawrence offer a swift “hello” which I return without moving my focus from the scene in front of me.

  “Are you going to fire me?” the woman croaks through a sob.

  “How to deal with you is not the top of my priorities, Sydney,” Gregory says through a tight jaw.

  Sydney, his PR manager. I don’t know what’s going on but I feel for her. It’s an almost impossible feat to keep this whole mess quiet, too many people are interested in the thirty-year-old CEO who’s already made it to The Times Rich List.

  “Go and clean yourself up but don’t go anywhere. This conversation isn’t over.”

  Sydney nods, another sob escaping her and scuttles past me, no doubt desperate to be free from the room. I can’t believe Gregory has made a woman cry but my anger disappears as soon as I see my CEO sag in defeat. It’s unprofessional but my legs carry me to him and my hand reaches out for his.

  “Hey, it’s going to be fine.”

  His eyes lift to mine, wide, surprised, then he flicks a look to Williams and Lawrence who are subtly feigning conversation. I drop his hand and force some professionalism back into my voice.

  “Alright, tell me what happened.” I cast my coat on the leather sofa and lay my documents on the coffee table.

  Gregory runs his eyes the length of my body greedily before he finally pushes himself from his desk and joins me on the sofa, Williams and Lawrence taking up position on the sofa opposite. “Nick found out about Saturday.”