“Boeuf Bourguignon?”
I nod faintly.
I dress in a short teal nightdress and wrap a matching silk kimono around me. I find Gregory downstairs dishing out Boeuf Bourguignon and wild rice, wearing a pair of black lounge pants, only black lounge pants, bare chested and truly tantalising.
He lifts me onto his lap on a stool and we eat like that, wrapped in each other. When we’re done, I rinse our plates and stack them in the dishwasher.
“I need to work for a while, angel.” He’s apologetic but I recognise that I’ve had him to myself almost all day and I bet he hasn’t had a day off work for a very long time, if ever. “I’ll work here, on the sofa.”
“Okay. I’ll read The Count.”
He sits down in the middle of the sofa facing the lights of the city set against the dark sky. He pats the corner of the sofa for me to sit. As I slide down the leather arm, he lifts my thighs across his legs. I snuggle into his arm and start reading The Count of Monte Cristo for probably the tenth time in as many years. He dims the lights with a remote control to a cosy level where we can both still read with ease, and grabs his documents. I sneak glances at him, watching his stoic business face and the occasional twitch of the muscle in his neck as he concentrates. Sometimes he catches me and flicks his eyes to my book, telling me to read. I giggle each time and start reading again. It takes me over an hour to get through the first chapter. Being so close to his naked skin is more than a little distracting.
With a sigh, he leans forward and drops his finished documents to the floor. “Read to me.”
He lifts me to my feet then lies down, his spine against the back of the sofa. He pats the cushion resting on his forearm, and I climb back onto the sofa in front of him, pressing my back into his chest and wrapping my feet between his warm legs. I read to him. I read until his head falls into my neck and his breathing slows. Then I carefully lean forward and drop the book to the floor. I hit the off button on the remote control and nestle against him.
“I love you.” I know he can’t hear me but I whisper just in case. If he can’t hear me, it can’t tear another piece of my heart when he doesn’t say it back.
Chapter Fourteen
I take the spare bagel that Amy has wrapped in tinfoil for me and pop it into my tote then tie my coat over my red dress and slip my feet into heels.
Gregory’s in full business mode, his manner brash as he speaks into his Blackberry. My laid back Gregory may be gone but the plus side is that I get to see him in my favourite blue suit. I watch his lean frame move down the stairs, everything about him refined, from his perfectly moulded hair to his polished shoes.
“Update me at ten and not a minute later.” He disconnects and drops the Blackberry into his inside pocket. “Ready?”
I follow him to the lift, calling goodbye to Amy. I try not to but all I can think about is taking that suit off him and pulling my hands through his flawlessly styled hair. He folds one arm across his chest and moves his opposite hand to his chin. The lift suddenly feels small and I’m hot. I exhale and tap my foot. Then I’m flung back against the wall, my hands above my head, and attacked by his mouth as he grinds his hips against my stomach. He’s hard.
When the lift pings, we both dart upright. I step onto the marble floor with a wobble and Gregory turns back to adjust himself in his trousers. I smirk as he strides to my side. We dip our heads to the concierge and step onto the street.
“Jackson!” I call excitedly. He’s out of the car and holding open the door to the back of the Mercedes. Gregory’s lips curl slightly as he walks around to the other side of the car and climbs into the backseat. Jackson knows just how Gregory likes things to be done.
“Good morning, Scarlett.” Jackson beams at me as I climb into the car with him holding his hand on the rim of the doorframe in case I should bump my head.
“Nice to have you back.”
“It’s nice to see you’ve finally accepted being chauffeured.”
Gregory is back on his Blackberry but rests one hand on top of mine in the middle of the seat as we cross to the north side of the Thames. I could fool myself into thinking this is a normal day.
I deposit the still-warm, spare bagel with Paul on my way into the office. He looks grey and cold this morning but he’s as polite as ever.
My iPhone rings as I’m walking the corridor towards my office and as I’m midway through taking off my coat. I fumble to do two things at once, answering the phone on the fifth ring.
“Mr. Ryans, what can I do for you?”
“Are you stealing food from me to feed the homeless?”
“Erm, it was only a bagel. I thought—”
“Two things. First, you need to be careful. Do you know that man?”
“It’s, he’s Paul. He’s sweet. He’s always outside the office block. I feel sorry for him.”
“Regardless, you need to be careful, Scarlett. He has nothing.”
“I don’t—”
“Second, do you want to help him?”
“Yes. Of course. He was kicked out by his parents, he’s young and he’s...polite.”
“Where does he go at night?”
“There’s a shelter he goes to, a soup kitchen near Liverpool Street Station.”
“And his name is Paul what?”
“Erm, I don’t know.”
“Alright. Have a good day. And stop stealing my food.”
Just like that he hangs up the phone.
Before my computer even beeps to life, Amanda bounds into my office.
“Who are you and where’s Scarlett Heath?” I look around as if something in the office will clear my confusion. “Since when does the Scarlett Heath I know take a day off?”
“Oh, I see. I’d gladly have taken another too.”
“Seriously, where is my Scarlett Heath?” She plonks herself onto the edge of my desk and pushes the latte Margaret has left towards me. “What did you get up to?”
“Walked. Talked. Ate.”
“You’re literally, beaming. Your hair looks pretty like that.”
I instinctively touch my roughly pinned up hair. “I call it the I-didn’t-want-to-come-to-work style.”
“This really is a whole new you. So, how are things? Have you heard any more from the police?”
She catches me off guard. The ballistics report says someone other than Gregory took that shot. It implicates me, that’s why Gregory is demanding another. We’re back to an excruciating countdown. “Nothing concrete yet.” It’s not a lie, yet I feel guilty.
“Soooo I called Williams on Saturday night.”
“You did?”
“I had a godawful date with a mind-numbing prick and it made me think that maybe fun isn’t so much fun after all. We’re going out for dinner on Friday.”
“Am I allowed to say I told you so?”
“Really rather you didn’t.”
I snortle unattractively. “Fair enough.”
“I have a proposition for you.” There’s a glint in her eye. “How about we ditch yoga and go out for lunch.”
“You’ve twisted my arm. One o’ clock?”
“Amaze! And we’re still on for drinks Saturday?”
“Oh, I forgot.”
“Scarlett, it’s been in the diary for an age. We haven’t seen Luke properly in forever.”
Luke Davenport, my university ex and now a good friend. “Erm, yep, we’re still on.”
She skips happily back to her own office as it dawns on me that the ballistics report could be back before our night out. It might never happen. Shrugging off the thought, I bury my head in documents for Mr. Ghurair. It’s been a week since our brunch and I know I have to give Neil my decision about Dubai. I am, without question, avoiding him. I wouldn’t leave Gregory wit
h the case looming over us and I won’t leave him whilst there’s any chance he’s falling for me as deeply as I’ve for fallen for him. But telling Neil that I’m willing to disappoint a potentially huge client on a whim...well, best case scenario is he’s unhappy but understanding. The worst case scenario is he’s really pissed. Either option is likely to be career limiting.
I’ve done half of what I intended to do by the time Amanda grabs me for lunch and my newfound reluctance to work, coupled with Amanda’s never present desire to work, means we talk our way through two hours before making it back to the office.
I open my office door, unbuttoning my coat, and jump back when I raise my head to see Gregory standing in the window, tall and broad, his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers, his hips flexed forward, his calves pressed back.
“What’re you doing here? How did you get into my office?”
His expression gives nothing away. “Your secretary let me in.”
“You can’t be here, Gregory, I have confidential files everywhere.”
“I told her it was an emergency.” His tone is flat.
My stomach sinks and my heart stops beating in my chest. I can hear my own heavy breaths in my ears. “What is it?”
“Sit down.”
I close my office door. “Just tell me, Gregory. What’s happened?”
“I wanted to tell you so you didn’t hear it from someone else, that’s all.”
“Tell me what?” My voice is louder than intended.
“My mother and Sandy have been taken in for questioning. Well, asked to go to the station.”
“Sandy! Why? What do they want with Sandy? Oh God, she’ll be beside herself. It’s me, isn’t it? They suspect the truth.”
He moves towards my frozen body and pushes me by the shoulders to sit on my desk. “It’s routine, Scarlett. That’s why I wanted to come here. I knew you’d panic. You heard John Harrison. Going against the ballistics report was going to lead to another dig by forensics and more questioning. Barnes has to investigate, that’s all. Sandy knows all of us and it’s obvious why they’d want to question my mother. It means nothing.”
I slap his hands away. “How can you say that? Pulling Sandy in is not routine. She doesn’t know you, not really, and you’re the suspect. She knows me and she knows Jackson.” I lift my hand to my mouth shaking my head. “I’ve got to get to the station. I need to see her.”
“Jackson’s with her. He took her down there and he’s waiting to bring her back. She’ll be fine, Scarlett.” He rests against the edge of the desk beside me.
“They know. They know or they suspect.”
He inhales deeply, his broad chest expanding. “They found a partial print on the gun. John Harrison called to tell me. He told me about Sandy and my mother too. They’re struggling to identify the print but they will.”
“Okay.” I feel sick but eerily resolute. This is going to force his hand. They’ll identify my print and Gregory won’t be able to protect me any longer. We’ll have to tell the truth.
I’ll be charged and they’ll find out. I didn’t just kill for love, I killed for vengeful love. Me, my father’s daughter and the unrequited lover of the little boy who haunts my sleep.
“I think you should go.”
He looks at me like I’ve just slapped him in the face.
“I’ve got work to do, Gregory, and you can’t be in my office with all these files.” I gesture to the rows of shelves lined with ring binders and correspondence files. I stand and walk with confidence to my desk chair.
He eventually rises from his perch, watching me. I slide on my glasses as if they might hide the feelings I’m so desperately trying not to show, then click New and feign typing an email, conscious as I do that he’s scrutinising my every move.
“Let’s go home. Together. I don’t want to leave you alone.”
I bite down on the inside of my gums and take off my glasses, dangling one tortoise shell arm between my teeth. “I’m fine, Gregory. Like you say, it’s routine. Jackson’s waiting for Sandy. It’s all just...dandy.”
“Dandy?”
“Yes. Dandy. I’ll see you later.” I pop my glasses back on and make up a sentence as I type, focusing intently on my screen. “The longer you stand there staring at me, the later I’ll be.”
“You know what, Scarlett, fine. Have it your own, petty fucking way.”
“I’ll thank you for not using that language in my office.” My words fall on his back as he storms out, slamming the door behind him, making me jump and the thin walls rattle.
Alone, the enormity of what’s happening takes hold. I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling, begging the dams in my eyes to hold back the ensuing river. This can’t be happening. Seven weeks ago if someone had told me I’d be sitting in my chair now, distraught because the only mother I’ve ever known is being questioned by the police in connection with the murder of a man I killed, I’d have laughed. I’d have laughed so hard I might’ve even done a drop. Then I would’ve told that person they have a very vivid imagination.
But here I am. A hostile takeover under my belt. My old boss locked up for assault. My father dead. Sandy working for a woman I hardly know because I couldn’t give her a job. I’m in love with a screwed up man with a past so dark he won’t dare reveal it. And I’m a murderer. Now everyone I love is being dragged under the bus with me.
No matter how long I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, I can’t locate Scarlett Heath. She seems so far away, further even than my rapidly disappearing sanity. And I’m wondering now whether the real reason I haven’t given Neil my decision about Dubai is because deep down, a part of me thinks it could be a fresh start, a clean slate. But a flight won’t hide me from a murder charge. That’s just about the only thing I can be certain of right now.
I’m trying to pinpoint the last time I knew myself and the only place I get to is the boardroom. My pitch in the boardroom of Eclectic Technologies. I wonder whether it would’ve been better for everyone if Mr. Sexy Bazillionaire CEO Ryans hadn’t walked into my life.
That thought kills me.
Finally, the dams disintegrate and two silent tears drip from the corners of my eyes. This will break us. Now. Next week. Next month. When I’m rightly behind bars for killing a man. This will break us because one person’s love can’t defy the order of the world alone. My silent tears build to a sob and I drop my head to my arms on my desk. Despite everything, I need him and I hate myself for being that dependent woman.
I ignore my ringing iPhone. I don’t want to speak to him. I can’t. I’ve got no idea what I want to say and I’m afraid of anything that might leave my mouth. I’m not thinking straight. It’s getting late, the sky is pitch black and the sensor lights are out in the corridor. Wiping tears, and no doubt mascara, from my cheeks with the backs of my hands, I sit up and grab my phone as it starts to ring again.
It isn’t Gregory.
“Sandy, are you okay? I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” My tears are flowing from a bottomless well.
“Oh deary me, stop that. I’m fine, it wasn’t so bad.”
“What did they ask you? Were they nice to you?”
“That Barnes was a nice chap. He knows Geoffrey.”
“D.I. Barnes. I know.” And there’s something highly coincidental about that. “Was there a woman too?”
“Oh, yes, she was a nasty piece of work but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“What did they ask you?”
“Nothing of much consequence—how I know you, Gregory and Geoffrey, whether I think you and Gregory are in love.”
“Enough to do anything for each other, is what they really mean.”
“They implied things, yes. But I told them you always do what’s right, Scarlett. They, erm, they asked me how your father
died.”
“Did they...were they...did they make a connection?”
“No, I explained he had Alzheimer’s.”
I hadn’t realised my shoulders were up by my ears but now they sag. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this. I’m sorry for everything.” I can hear Jackson in the background; he sounds like he’s talking on his phone. “Are you home?”
“I’m at the Shard. I’m going to stay here tonight with Geoffrey.”
My lips turn up in a desperate attempt to smile. “You call him Geoffrey. That’s funny.”
“That’s his name.”
“He’ll always be Jackson to me.”
I can hear a soft smile in her voice. “I thought I might see you here.”
I stand and walk to my office window. “I’m still working.”
“Scarlett, you can’t possibly be concentrating with everything that’s going on. Come home. It’s late. Gregory tells me his housemaid has made salmon en croute. That’ll be nice, won’t it?”
“You’re not going to lure me back with salmon en croute.”
“Well, what if I made you some pancakes?”
“Sandy, you’ve just been to the police station and questioned. You must be exhausted. Let Jackson look after you. Go and put your feet up.”
“It’d be a lot easier to relax if I knew you were okay, sweets.” I can hear her moving then her voice drops to a whisper. “I’m worried about you. Gregory said you two had words.”
I sigh. “Sandy...”
“I’m here, sweets.”
I pause, debating whether to share the truth. “I don’t want to go home.” A lump forms in my throat and I swallow hard to prevent it from rupturing.
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