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  “I’ve killed, Scarlett,” he says. “In the forces. It was my job but don’t think it’s easy to kill a man and not have guilt follow you around like a black dog. Especially the first one, that takes some getting over.”

  I’ve never really delved into Jackson’s past but I suddenly feel an overwhelming desire to know more about Gregory’s protector and Sandy’s new love. “How did you get over it?”

  “By reminding myself why I did it. I killed not just for my country but to save the men I was serving with and to save myself. That’s how I live with it. In that situation, to kill was the only option.”

  I know I killed Pearson to save Gregory. What I don’t know is how much of me took that shot in revenge. For Gregory. For my father. For me.

  The only thing I’m sure of is that having Gregory with me gives me the justification I need.

  One more day until he’s back. One more day closer to the ballistics report that will prove a murder took place in this apartment.

  Day five.

  Chapter Nine

  “You look so peaceful when you sleep.”

  I smell him before I see him, his fresh, minty scent. My eyes open to him gazing down on me, his forearms either side of my head, holding his weight.

  “You’re real.”

  “Yes, baby.” He smiles and rests his body down between my legs, the weight of him on my stomach telling me he really is home. I lean into his touch as he brings his palm to my cheek.

  “How was your trip?” I ask, my words sleepy.

  “Shhh, we’ll talk in the morning. Now, I just need to feel you.”

  His tongue slides across my top lip and into my mouth, meeting mine. I’ve missed this taste so much. He nudges the tip of my nose with his then moves to my neck, trailing kisses down to my collarbone.

  “My mark is fading,” he says between delicious presses of his lips against my skin.

  “I don’t need your mark anymore, I have you.” I let my head fall back giving him full access.

  His breath is hot. “You do.”

  He kisses me in the way that tells me he’s going to make love to me, slow and gentle.

  “Three days felt like forever,” he mumbles against my skin.

  Give him time to work it out. Tonight, in this moment, I think and hope that Jackson could be right. That faith alone is my reason to stay.

  * * *

  “Up you get.” Gregory’s holding a cup of hot coffee, staring down at me.

  “Tired,” I grumble.

  “Ja, well if you will let men into your bed at all hours...” He hands me the coffee on a wink that would floor me completely if I weren’t already lying down.

  “Don’t you ever sleep? What time is it?”

  “Early. We’ve got a long drive. Chip chop.”

  “Chip chop?” I ask on a raised brow as I swing my legs over the side of the bed.

  “Exactly.”

  I giggle as my South African leaves the room. Oh how I wish playful Gregory could be here always. Although that would probably mean I’d lose the angry, earth shattering-style fuckings. As much as I love sweet Gregory, I think I’d miss those now I’ve had a taste. Maybe a medley of Gregory’s multiple personalities isn’t too bad.

  I hop into the black leather of the Range Rover in my newly purchased country get-up. “Just another unnecessary car then?”

  “It’s very necessary. I have a lot of stuff and this has the boot space for a lot of stuff.”

  Shaking my head, I strap myself into the seat, feeling like I’m sitting on top of a mountain as Gregory pulls out of the basement car park. He pushes a button on the cockpit-esque dash and Thirty Seconds to Mars’ “Kings and Queens” blasts through the speakers. I lean back in my seat and watch him as he settles into an unnecessarily fast but smooth drive out of the city.

  “It was a week ago today,” I find myself saying. “Should we even be doing this, going away for the weekend, being...normal?”

  His knuckles tighten on the wheel. “Scarlett, normal is the absolute minimum you ought to have.”

  “We met because I agreed to help you with a hostile takeover. Three weeks ago my father was murdered because of that. Seven days ago I shot a man in the head. And any day now my boyfriend might be charged for my crime. Which part of that is normal?”

  He focusses straight ahead but his face shifts, almost pained. I rest my elbow on the window ledge, propping up my temple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I just wish you’d stop telling me what I should have when what you really mean is you think I shouldn’t be with you. I don’t think that, Gregory.”

  He shakes his head without moving his attention from the road. “You should have better, Scarlett. I just don’t seem capable of walking away.”

  “You know what, Gregory, screw your sense of obligation.”

  The car screeches and I grip the edge of my seat as we swing off the motorway onto the hard shoulder. This is becoming a dangerous habit.

  “That’s what you think, Scarlett, that this is all because I feel trapped by circumstance?”

  I shrug, looking out of the window at the grass verge, anywhere to stop him from seeing my clouded eyes.

  “Scarlett, that’s not why.”

  I turn to him now. “Then why?”

  He drags a hand over his face. “Scarlett, I’m not like other people. There’re things you don’t know about me.”

  “So tell me. Take a chance on me. Let me in.”

  He silently opens and closes his mouth then rests his head back against his seat. “I wish you could see what’s good for you. You’re smart, funny and beautiful, can’t that be enough of a reason?”

  “I guess it’ll have to be, for now.”

  After two hours, two service station coffees and me feeding Gregory bite size chunks of apparently the worst smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel he’s ever had in his life—a tad dramatic—concrete has been replaced by increasingly lush green. He pulls us off the motorway and we wind through roads flanked by hillside and evergreen trees.

  “Where are we,” I ask, tearing myself from the unfamiliar sight of undisturbed nature.

  “Derbyshire.”

  “Derbyshire. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this far North. It’s beautiful.”

  “It is.”

  “Then why do you have that look on your face? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I was thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  He turns his head to face me briefly then focusses forward again, taking us through a sharp bend. “If I told you I’d be saying it rather than just thinking it. Defeats the objective, wouldn’t you say?”

  A huffy sigh reveals my frustration. I really hope this weekend isn’t going to be stuck-up Gregory the entire time.

  After a ten minute silence of continuous weaving through the countryside, he speaks. “This whole thing is quite pretentious, Scarlett.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I say on a petulant scoff.

  He ignores my childishness, despite the increased tension in his jawline and the tight sinews in his neck that look too damn sexy. “There are rules and customs. The only members of the hunt are male.”

  “Are you trying to tell me this will be a chauvinistic affair?”

  “Actually, yes. It can be. I’m going to be with you but just keep your wits about you. The women can be...”

  “Bitchy?”

  “That’s probably a fair word,” he says, his face completely straight. “They like money, they don’t like new faces and they’ll absolutely hate a beautiful new face.”

  I smile inwardly but it’s my concerned look that Gregory finds. “You’ve brought me to the lions’ den.”

  “Yes. I always come alone so you�
��ll be a bit of a surprise to them too. I’m just saying...I don’t know what I’m saying. If they get too much, you can leave them. I’ll be back as soon as the hunt is done and we’ll have a nice dinner tonight.”

  His back straightens and his eyes widen as if he’s had an epiphany of some sort. He hits two buttons on the dash and the music makes way for a ringtone.

  “Old boy, where are you?” It’s Williams.

  “Almost there. Is your sister with you?”

  “She is.”

  A sweet voice chimes through the speakers. “Hi handsome.”

  “How are you, Charlotte?”

  “All the better for hearing your voice, Ryans.”

  He laughs, a manly and gorgeous sound. “Your purposeful attempt to make me uncomfortable is failing, Charlie.”

  A very girly giggle fills the car.

  “I’m bringing someone to meet you today.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard all about your girlfriend.”

  Gregory shuffles in his seat. She’s succeeded in her goal. A laugh escapes from my stomach.

  “Hi Charlie,” I say.

  “Oh, shit, sorry! I didn’t realise I was on speaker.”

  “Mouth, Charlie!” Gregory snaps.

  “Fuck, sorry!”

  I laugh harder now, my head thrown back against the seat as Gregory’s jaw locks and his shoulders tense. The feeling is a relief from days of angst.

  “Charlotte, that’s enough,” Williams snaps, his smile obvious in his voice.

  “Charlie, can you just show Scarlett the ropes today?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll keep her away from the pack-hounds, that’s what you’re actually asking isn’t it?”

  He relaxes. “She can look after herself but you know what it’s like when a new hound infiltrates the group.”

  My jaw hits the floor in shock. “Am I a hound in this scenario?”

  “I think we’ll go. See you both soon.” Charlotte’s amusement is clear in her tone.

  “That didn’t come out right.”

  “I should hope not, Mr. Ryans.”

  He shoots me a sideways glance and a smirk. “You’re hot when you’re angry.”

  I scowl and fire him my fiercest playful pout. This is better than fighting.

  We round another tight bend and the top of a most extravagant stately home comes into view, growing as we move forward. “Wow.”

  The stone building is as big as a palace. Maybe even bigger. The top of each pillar is decorated with a small gold dome and each of the multitude of windows is framed in gold too. The courtyard veers off to rows of stables and a huge fountain trickles in the middle of the open space. I look right as water shoots high into the air and sprays down into a lake beside the house.

  Gregory drives up to large iron gates. “Ryans,” he says into the intercom. The gates open and we drive a gravel path, passing stone gargoyles and lions, climbing towards the magnificent building.

  “Welcome to your home for the night.”

  “We’re staying here?” I gasp, my head still turning around the huge expanse of grounds and the enormous structure towering over us.

  Gregory pulls the Range Rover into a spot on the gravel then leans back in his seat and stretches his arms back over his head rest. The exposure of his toned chest draws my eyes away from our surroundings.

  “Like what you see?” he asks on a grin.

  I nod and my dry lips part. He grabs my chin between his index finger and thumb and brushes his lips over mine on an inhale. His familiar scent and the feel of his soft, smooth flesh drive my senses wild.

  “I don’t want to fight with you, baby. I just want to spend time with you, away from London, the apartment, all of it.” He nuzzles his brow against mine, our noses touching.

  “Okay.”

  A knock on the driver side window propels me back to planet normal. Gregory practically snarls but his expression lightens when he turns to see the face at the window. She looks like Williams, just a very attractive female version. Gregory unhooks my seatbelt, then his own. As soon as his feet hit the gravel, Charlotte is wrapped around his neck. He hugs her back, a rare, showy display of emotion.

  “This is Scarlett,” he says, taking my hand and pulling me to his side.

  “Hi Charlotte, it’s nice to meet you.”

  She throws herself forward and plants a kiss on my cheek, startling me but making me smile, part uncomfortably, part because I like her immediately.

  “Charlotte, would you calm down.” Williams admonishes her with soft, affection-filled eyes. “Forgive my little sister, she doesn’t get out much.” He leans forward to kiss my cheek. “Then takes Gregory’s hand in a firm shake. “How was China?”

  Gregory nods brusquely, his CEO persona in full swing. “The deal is on.”

  We’re joined by a young man in Pride and Prejudice style get up. He takes our bags on the shake of a hand from Gregory, no doubt accepting a note, and heads through the courtyard into the palatial home.

  “Mr. Ryans, we’re up here.” The voice belongs to Kian, one of the attendants from Gregory’s farmhouse-cum-mansion in Surrey, his luxurious property outside the city, complete with land, dogs, staff and a triple garage full of motorbikes. My mind drifts to a memory of him kitted out in leathers and the feel of my legs wrapped around his lean hips as we burnt up the country roads around the farm. “How was your drive, sir?”

  “Not bad, Kian. How does he look?”

  We climb the incline to where a string of horse boxes and four wheel drives are lined up along a dirt track, and men in various stages of undress are hopping into jodhpurs and black blazers.

  “He’s looking really good, sir. I’ve had him out every day this week. He’s ready for the season.”

  We wait to one side whilst Kian retrieves the grand, shining black horse from the box labelled GJR. Gregory moves straight to the horse, stroking the length of its mane, then its back. “Good work, Kian. He looks splendid.”

  “He’s riding really well too, sir.”

  “Alright, saddle him up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gregory glides his hands down my shoulders, his palms coming to rest in mine. “I need to say hello to a few people. Why don’t you go down to the breakfast room? Charlotte will be there. The hunt starts just to the right of the last horse box there. Come up and see us off, then you can do whatever, look around the house, take a walk. If you get fed up you can always go back to our room, the reception is in the courtyard. They’ll help you.”

  “Mr. Ryans, you’re stressing unnecessarily. I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine for...how long will you be?”

  He shrugs. “A few hours maybe. We’ll head back early afternoon before it gets too dark. They’ll announce in the house when we’re on our way. The ladies tend to watch us back in.”

  “Sounds very pretentious.”

  “It is very pretentious, lady, but these men are money, private equity, hedge funds. Sometimes it pays to play their games.”

  I nod, understanding completely that this is business more than pleasure. He plants a kiss on my brow. “Have I told you how good your arse looks in these pants?”

  I smile. “You just did.”

  He turns me by my shoulders and points me in the direction of the breakfast room, slapping my bottom as I walk and receiving an over-shoulder scowl in response.

  The large wooden door is held open for me by another young man in period dress—a thigh-length waistcoat, baggy knee-length trousers with pulled up socks and a frilly cravat. The dining room really is something special. The ceilings are high and adjourned in intricate architecture. Four very grand gold and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling above the white clothed tables. The impressive arched windows on two walls flood the room with bright light. />
  “Scarlett, over here!” Charlotte jumps up from her seat at a table with six women who all look like they’ve been dressed by Julia and Lucas. Her dark-blond waves bounce on her broad but slim shoulders. She really is striking in that kind of edgy, model way.

  “Ladies, this is Scarlett,” Charlotte announces as I take a seat at the table. “She’s with Gregory.”

  I glance around the table, smiling as I say hello. I recognise one of the women, scorned Stella from Lara’s party last week. This should be fun. Her peroxide blond is swept up in a French roll and clip, her natural tight curls spraying out at the top. She takes a purposeful sip of champagne, eyeing me as she does, then places her lipstick stained glass next to her Eggs Royale.

  “Nice to see you again, Stella.” Even though it really isn’t. Five minutes in this woman’s company on Saturday was enough for a lifetime.

  She sits taller in her chair, her back perfectly straight. “Two events in one week, there’s a first.”

  “Stella, stop!” A woman with black hair, lacquered away from her face at the sides, smiles at me—a disingenuous smile if I ever saw one. She waves a hand in the air and a waiter comes immediately to our table. “This here’s Scarlett, she’ll need some breakfast too.” Her accent is decorated with a hint of North American but she’s obviously lived in England for a long time.

  “Just tea is fine, thank you,” I say.

  “English Breakfast, madam?”

  “That would great, thank you.”

  “I’m Caroline. And never mind Stella, she’s just a little shocked, as we all are.” She wags her head slightly and brings one side of her hair over her shoulder. “You must be special. Gregory’s the eternal bachelor.”

  “We see him with plenty of women but never with the same woman twice.” Another woman with flushed cheeks, possibly from champagne, throws in her two-penneth.

  I don’t need to look to know Stella is still burning holes into me. Well this is just lovely. Subtly checking my watch, I realise I’ve been here a full seven minutes. The hunt hasn’t even begun yet. Three hours is going to be torture.

  “Don’t you all look just wonderful?” An elderly lady is making her way towards us gingerly, using a wooden stick to take her weight. She shuffles, more than lifts, her brogued feet forward.