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  “You’re going to be late.” Gregory appears, leaning against the doorframe of the walk-in wardrobe, watching me flick through my dresses in a fluster.

  “So now you do want me to go out.”

  “No. I’m making conversation so that I can enjoy the view.” Looking down at my black lace thong and matching bra, I bite my lip to stop my grin from giving me away. I’m still feigning my earlier mood. I shouldn’t have to be the one to apologise.

  “Smart Guy’s a conversationalist now?”

  “Shhh, your mouthful of attitude is ruining my moment.”

  I select a black fitted dress with spaghetti straps that’s probably a little too short. In fact, I’ve only ever worn it once because it’s so short but Amanda convinced me to spend too much money on it during a dry martini-fuelled shopping trip and given it has been a long time, I should make the effort. I bend forward, fully aware of the lace thong slipping between my cheeks, and rummage through shoe boxes, knowing too well where the strap shoes are that I’m looking for but enjoying the torture I’m inflicting on Mr. Unreasonable.

  “Keep going, Miss Heath. Please keep going and give me a reason to come over there and spank that arse until you’d rather scream my name than go out.”

  I’d always rather do that but now isn’t the time to flatter his ego.

  With purpose, I slip my feet into my heels and buckle the thin straps at my ankles then slide the tight dress down over my breasts, wiggling my hips as I pull it down to my thighs.

  “Are you planning on coming to bed with me?” he asks.

  I flash him a dirty scowl.

  “Right. Fine. Then you can take that negligee off right now.”

  “Excuse me?” My hands move to my hips for maximum effect.

  “There’s no way you’re going out in that excuse for a dress.”

  “I think you’ll find I am.”

  “Take it off, Scarlett.”

  “Quit treating me like a child, Gregory.”

  “Then quit acting like one.”

  “I hate it when you say that to me.”

  He moves towards me. “I can take it off or you can.”

  “No.”

  He grabs my hand and pushes it against his length, hard beneath the dark denim of his jeans. “Do you feel that? I’m not having other men looking at you and getting a hard on, Scarlett. Take it off.”

  Oh how I’d love to stay home and fix his problem.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  As soon as I manage to wiggle free of the dress, I throw it in a heap on the floor and start rummaging again through the hanging clothes. “There’s nothing I want to wear.”

  “You really are cranky tonight, Miss Heath, what’s gotten into you?” It’s a rhetorical question, more to make his point than actually obtain a response, so I don’t bother offering one. But I am insanely cranky, that I would both have to agree with and blame him for.

  “Here.” He holds out a black strapless all-in-one, fitted to the waist with tapered bottoms. “This is nice. It’s sexy and sophisticated and other men won’t be able to see my spanking target if you bend over.”

  Despite myself, I giggle, and take the jumpsuit from him.

  * * *

  “You look stunning,” he says, as I descend the stairs to the lounge. “Ready?”

  I nod, afraid to speak in case I accidentally forgive him for the list of things that’ve made me mad at him in the last few days. He slips a grey blazer over his black T-shirt and pulls on his leather ankle boots.

  We drive to Camden in the Range Rover. Actually a thoughtful choice of vehicle for two women in heels. He beeps the horn once and Amanda comes running, tugging down her short raspberry dress as she moves. She slips into the backseat, still fastening her jewellery.

  “You look yummy, hunny,” she says, popping a head through the gap between the front seats to give my outfit the once over.

  “You too. New dress?”

  She winks with a grin. “It’s allowance day.”

  Gregory shakes his head. Amanda still gets a monthly allowance from her father and Gregory finds it as unbelievable as I do. Gregory worked hard for everything he has. At twenty-eight he wasn’t living on Daddy’s money, he was a multimillionaire. This is just another reason my boyfriend and my best friend can’t seem to get along.

  “Chelsea please, driver,” she says, Gregory’s jaw tightening in response.

  “Are we meeting Luke there?” I ask to change the subject.

  “Mmm,” she says, using her teeth to hold her bracelet in place as she fastens the lock. “And Shelley. Emily and Harry said they might see us out.”

  “Lawrence’s niece?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “Perfect. It’s been weeks, no, probably months, since I’ve seen Shelley and it’d be nice to see the others if they make it. Where does Shelley live since she moved out of your place?”

  “Mmm, near Monument, I think. I haven’t seen her for a few weeks either. She met a new guy, blah, blah.”

  Luke is waiting on Kings Road, bouncing on the spot in dark jeans, waistcoat and blazer, a sign of just how cold it is without a cloud in the late-November sky.

  Amanda bounds out of the car and runs into Luke’s arms on a squeal.

  “Thanks,” I say, unbuckling my belt. As I turn to leave the car Gregory grabs my wrist.

  “Kiss.”

  I turn and look into those devilishly handsome brown eyes. Stay strong, lady! With a deep breath, I snatch my hand away and open the car door.

  “Scarlett Heath, don’t you dare get out of this car without kissing me.”

  “Thanks for the lift.” I step into the road and slam the door shut.

  He reaches me before I’ve even managed to walk around to the pavement on his side of the car. He grabs my thighs and flips me upside down so I’m dangling in front of him, my head inches from the ground.

  “Jesus Christ, Gregory! Put me down!” I check my strapless top to make sure nothing’s fallen out and thank God for my adequate but not large breasts. “You’re insane, do you know that?”

  I glance up to find everyone on Kings Road staring at the ridiculous scene and Luke and Amanda crippled with laughter. Traitors. He eventually flips me back upright and holds my waist until I’m steady on my feet, then he leans me against the side of the Range Rover, the cold metal against my back making me shiver. He locks his thighs against the outsides of mine and subtly presses his crotch against my pelvis.

  With his index finger, he lifts my chin. “It’s never acceptable for you to leave me without a kiss. Do you understand?”

  The air has escaped my lungs so I nod my response.

  “Say you understand.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good girl.”

  And then he kisses me, slowly, deeply, passionately, in a way that lets me know what will be waiting for me when I get home and tells every other man on Kings Road who I belong to. Forgetting my surroundings, I moan into his mouth as his tongue lightly grazes mine and I pull his waist into me. I’m dizzy when he eventually peels his lips away.

  “Call me when you want to come home.”

  “I’ll get a taxi, it’ll probably be late with these guys.” I flick a hand in the direction of Amanda and Luke who’ve finally stopped laughing.

  “What did I just say?”

  “I’ll call you,” I say.

  “Good girl.”

  Slipping between Amanda and Luke to keep my bare shoulders warm, I watch him drive away.

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Who. Was. That?”

  I close Luke’s open mouth with the tip of my finger. A rogue strand of hair falls from his carefully styled honey-blond and rests across his brow. He could be a model.
r />   “That is Scarlett’s billionaire client,” Amanda confirms.

  “I actually have a stiffy.” Luke moves in front of Amanda and me and pushes his crotch forward. “Really! Feel it!”

  That’s all it takes to send Amanda back into hysterics.

  “Bloody hell, Luke, must you constantly remind me that you preferred taking baths with every man on Cambridge’s rugby team rather than me?” I say with a shake of the head.

  Luke drapes an arm across our shoulders, encouraging us towards the red canopy at the entrance of the bar. The queue of people to the left of the entrance stare as Luke dips his head to the two hefty doormen and we walk straight in.

  “I confess, the changing room orgy was a particular fantasy of mine,” Luke says as we ascend the staircase.

  “Scarlett! It’s been too long!” Shelley jumps from the booth she was nestled in and as fast as her four-inch heels and body-con dress will allow, she hurtles towards me.

  “I always forget how squealy she is,” Luke says, leaning into my ear. “Drink?”

  “No need! No need! We have Grey Goose and Bombay Sapphire and every mixer you can think of.” Shelley throws her arms around me and yanks me into her suspiciously larger-than-usual chest.

  “Hi, it’s so nice to see you. Shelley. Shelley, I can’t breathe.” I peel myself away.

  “Whoopsies!” She giggles. “Come. Come. I want you to meet my new guy.” She drags my arm, jerking it in the socket, and pulls me through the bar. I smile apologetically as a man I’ve been forced to bump into snaps his head quickly to look at the culprit.

  Shelley’s new guy is stocky, with broad shoulders that seem part muscle and part just mass. He rises from his seat at the far side of the booth and leans over three ice buckets full of alcohol and mixers to shake my hand and drop a kiss on my cheek. I clock the Tag decorating his chunky wrist, the cuffs of his shirt clearly rolled back for effect.

  “I’m Dan,” he shouts across the pounding bass of the music.

  “Scarlett,” I yell through a smile.

  “Vodka or gin?” Shelley asks, holding up both bottles as she drops into the padded leather booth with a thump.

  “Gin, please.”

  Self-poured, or rather Shelley and Dan poured, measures are dangerous. Drink four has been pushed in front of me and they’re already clouding my head. Emily and Harry have turned up and, after telling me again how I must drag Gregory out for drinks ‘just one time ever,’ they work the room, happily socialising with the wealthy cohort.

  “I need to slow down,” I say to Amanda as I wince through my first mouthful of the strongest mix yet. She’s fiddling with her iPhone as she mumbles her agreement. “Is everything okay? You’ve hardly touched your drink.”

  “I’m just pacing myself,” she says, putting her glass to her lips but taking the smallest sip.

  “Okay, who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” I nudge into her shoulder and receive a dim smile in return.

  “It’s nothing. Really. I’m just feeling a little yucky. I thought I’d be fine after one or two drinks but this is my first and I just have no fancy for it.” She leans into the booth and nudges her glass away. “Let’s dance!”

  It must be the four lethal gins because I feel like I can actually dance. I lift my arms above my head as I move in time to David Guetta’s beat.

  “I love this tune!” Amanda yells, suddenly revived.

  My waist is attacked by two man-arms. “Shots!” Luke screams into my ear. He drags me backwards to the bar where a row of six tequila shots is being poured. The barman sets a slice of lemon across each glass then dishes out three salt shakers.

  Amanda goes first, licking the side of her hand and tipping salt on top. Nothing stands in the way of Amanda and tequila. For me, on the other hand, this is a bad idea. Beyond bad. Tequila and I go together like pink and green, oil on a fire, tomato juice and a white shirt. The ending is predictable. Option one is wasted. Option two is sick. Option three is a combination of one and two. And there isn’t an option four.

  But I haven’t been out for a while. “God help me,” I say, licking my hand, pouring over salt and clinking my shot glass with Amanda’s and Luke’s.

  “Cheers!”

  The salt bites in such a way that I actually want to chase it with tequila but...good Lord, that stuff is vile. I dig my teeth into the slice of lemon and suck as hard as I can, my head shaking, my feet stomping against the floor.

  “Yeah, like old times,” Luke says, slamming his empty shot glass onto the bar with a satisfied slurp. “Next!”

  “I couldn’t do it. The smell is making me queasy! How do we drink that stuff?” Luke and I both dart our heads to look at Amanda who’s holding her full glass of tequila midair.

  “Since when did you become a prude?” Luke asks.

  “I just can’t. You have it.”

  He shrugs, takes the glass from Amanda and rearranges the row of glasses on the bar so that he and I each have two left.

  “Luke, I can’t. I’ll be ill. I’m already drunk.”

  “Nonsense, Scarlett, we used to drink more than this on a weeknight at uni. Man up!” Luke says on a wink, the irony of his statement not lost on either of us. He presses a shot glass into my hand as Amanda lines up the camera on her phone.

  “Cheers!”

  “Oh, crap,” I mutter, just before I lick the salt, neck the shot and suck hard on my second slice of lemon. “Oh it hurts!” My feet stomp again and I shake my head, which only adds to the increasing fogginess in my mind.

  “Last one,” Luke sings, seemingly unaffected.

  “Luke, I can’t!” I protest, rubbing my chest as if it might quell the burning sensation.

  “Pipe down, Scarlett, it’s only one.”

  “One that’ll have me running to the toilet.”

  Amanda flashes her camera at us again as we carry out the same procedure and my feet stomp on the floor a third time.

  “Alright. I’m going on the prowl,” Luke announces, without even so much as a flinch from his final hit of tequila. “Coming?”

  “No, thanks, I’m going to go and find my sea legs,” I say, conscious that I’m having to concentrate too hard on putting one foot in front of the other as I walk back to the booth.

  “Are you going to vomit?” Amanda asks, eyeing me cautiously as she slips into the booth beside me.

  “No.” I laugh. “I just need a minute.”

  “You sure? I know what you’re like with tequila.”

  “Yet you still inflicted an extra shot on me?” I raise a playful brow and she giggles with a shrug.

  “I thought it would be good for you. You seem...less...well, happy tonight.”

  “Oh, Amanda, please don’t start. I am happy. There’s a lot of stuff going on but I’m not unhappy with Gregory and I know where you’re going with this.”

  She turns to face me, lifting her knees sideways onto the leather seat. “Just hear me out.”

  My fingers locate a glass, mine or someone else’s, and turn it in circles until my head decides it’s too dizzy to watch anything rotate. A sudden need to swallow comes over me then my stomach settles again.

  “I can see what he has to offer. He’s attractive, anyone can see that. He’s wealthy. He’s obviously smart to have gotten to where he is.”

  I lift my head and find two sympathetic eyes looking back at me as she rests her head against the back of the booth, her auburn hair falling across her shoulders.

  “But?”

  “But, he’s not right for you, Scarlett.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know you. You’re one of the nicest people I know, probably will ever know. You never do or say anything wrong, Scarlett, and suddenly he comes on the scene and...”

  “
And what?” My words reflect the sharp bout of anger I’m feeling. She’s got a matter of seconds before I refuse to listen to any more.

  “I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him and I don’t like what he’s doing to you.”

  I stand, shuffling awkwardly around the table to escape the booth. I’m not listening to this and I’m not starting a fight with my best friend over it either.

  “He’s dark, Scarlett. He’s cagey.”

  I turn on my heels, fighting against unsteadiness to face her. “Why don’t you just spit out what you’re trying to say, Amanda?”

  “Do you know why he really killed Kevin Pearson? You just accept that his father came after him, tried to kill him for no reason and Gregory shot him.” She stands now and braces herself on the table with two hands. “Not just shot him, Scarlett, shot him at point blank range. Cold-blooded murder.”

  “Shut up. Shut up!” Tears spring to the back of my eyes and the words are on the tip of my tongue. I want to tell her. I want to tell everyone that Gregory is a good man and I am the cold-blooded killer. And that I know why I did it. I might not know everything, not yet, but what I do know is I shot Kevin Pearson because otherwise Gregory would be dead.

  The room begins to sway with the mix of tequila, fighting with Amanda and the crashing home of the stark reality that I’m a killer. I’m no longer ordinary Scarlett Heath who plays by the rules. I killed another human being and I’m letting the man I love with every single cell in my body take the blame. A man who can’t tell me he’s fallen for me too. A man who despises himself so much he wants to be punished for my crime. My chest is suddenly tight and painful as I try to take a breath in. I slap a hand against my chest in an attempt to ease the pain. I need air.

  Pushing through the full room of people, I make my way to the exit. At the staircase, I hear her calling my name and find enough strength to stop and tell her not to follow me. I watch my blurred feet take the staircase as cautiously as my murky mind, breathless body and unsteady legs will allow. Downstairs I find the smokers’ area outside and push my back against the cold brick wall, my lungs finally filling with air.