“I’m fine.”
“Fine. You’ve been fine all afternoon.” As I place my cutlery at six o’clock to reflect Gregory’s stubbornness, a Blackberry ringtone sounds.
Gregory checks his inside pocket, then Williams does the same. Amanda doesn’t bother, nor does Lawrence. When no one owns up, I push out my chair and check in my handbag to find Neil Wallace’s name dancing across my screen. Damn it! He wanted to submit the Dubai proposal on Friday but I left him a voicemail to say I wanted to discuss it with him first.
“I’ll call him back,” I say, silencing the call and resuming my position at the table. “Sorry about that.”
The others fall back into easy conversation whilst I silently question the steely eyes to my right.
Why can’t we just be happy like everyone else?
I can feel a lump forming in my throat. Confusion. Hurt. I’ve no idea anymore. I just can’t read him unless he’s showing me what he thinks, physically. Then his words contradict everything I feel in those moments. I need more. I can feel my eyes beginning to sting as I swallow down the lump.
He takes my hand from my lap and lifts it to his lips, then stares as he bends and strokes my fingertips, everything about the move is sombre.
Please, Gregory, let me in.
After lunch, we move to take coffee in the lounge and my Blackberry sounds again.
“Sorry, it’s Neil, I need to take this.”
As I lift the phone to my ear and press to receive the call, Gregory reaches for the phone. “Scarlett—”
I place my hand over the receiver. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
“Neil, hi.”
“Scarlett. Got your email. Fantastic news.”
Making my way along the corridor of Lara’s mansion to find a quiet spot, I cast my eyes back over my shoulder and shake my head in frustration when I find Gregory’s scrunched forehead and wide unreadable browns still on me.
“Sorry, Neil, my email?”
I dip into a smaller, but equally stunning sitting room with teal textured wall paint, elaborate cream-and-gold floor to ceiling curtains and a collection of mismatched but perfectly complimentary fabric chairs and sofas surrounding a sheep skin rug.
“Yes, this morning. I’m thrilled you’re accepting the secondment although I confess I hadn’t realised it was still in question. Mr. Ghurair is quite insistent that you’re the right person for the job.”
“I...erm...” I try to focus. I’m lost.
“Oh, don’t be modest, Scarlett. This will go a long way for your prospects at the firm.”
“I accepted the secondment.” It’s clear he thinks that much. What email? “Neil, forgive me, I’m just a little confused.”
“Did you have a big Saturday night, Scarlett?” he laughs. “Well, I don’t want to keep you on a Sunday, I just want to check you’re okay to fly out this week so I can confirm with Abdulla?”
“This week...sorry, Neil, can I call you back in one minute?”
“Yes, of course.”
Hanging up, I pull up the sent items in my email folder.
To: Wallace, Neil
From: Heath, Scarlett
Sent: Sunday 29 Nov 2015 8.44
Subject: Dubai Secondment
Good morning Neil,
I just wanted to let you know that I have put a lot of thought into the Dubai secondment opportunity and I would like to accept.
Please let me know the arrangements.
Regards,
Scarlett Heath
Director
Saunders, Taylor and Chamberlain LLP
Gregory.
The lump that’s been lingering in my throat is back with a vengeance and my eyes are stinging. I catch an escaping sob with the back of my hand to my mouth then swallow the lump and stand up straight, accepting reality.
“Scarlett.” Neil’s voice is like a punch to my gut, crippling. I move my free hand to the back of a beige velour chair for strength.
“Neil. When can I fly?”
“As soon as possible is best for Abdulla. How long do you need?”
“Can you get me on a flight tonight?” My voice is breaking. “I’d like to get started straight away.”
“Tonight might be a push. Take your time, do whatever you need to do and I’ll ask Aisling to book you a flight for tomorrow.”
“Great. Perfect. Let me know the details.”
“Thank you, Scarlett, Abdulla will be pleased about this.”
“No problem, glad I can help.”
Once the call is disconnected I fall into the beige seat, stunned. What just happened?
Gregory didn’t do this. Why would he? After last night, after the CPS decision. We’re far from perfect but I assumed we could work on that now that things are settled. Maybe that’s it. Maybe now there are no excuses and he’s afraid to let me in. I snort at just how pathetic that thought is...he just doesn’t love you, Scarlett.
In the ladies’ I splash water over my face and dab away the mascara from under my eyes. My grey skin is almost translucent.
Jovial conversation continues when I slip back into the lounge. I scan the room quickly, I want to see his reaction before he has a chance to think and put up the wall of whichever personality he feels like presenting today.
One glance. That’s all it takes.
He turns from the large, arched Georgian sash window, his skin the colour of the pending rain clouds outside. His face and neck are taut and every sinew in his neck is displayed when he swallows. The cup in his hand rocks against its matching saucer. We hold our stare until Gregory looks down to his saucer and back to me. Ashamed? Embarrassed? He ought to be. Too fucking pathetic to tell me straight.
“Everything okay?” Amanda asks from the leather chair closest to me where she’s drinking tea and flicking her eyes between Gregory and me.
“Absolutely.” I move to the table between the sofas and chairs to collect a cup of coffee. “Just Neil, he wanted my answer about the Dubai secondment.”
“So is he mad that you’re not going?” She casts her eyes to Gregory but his back is now turned to the room as he looks out at Lara’s acres of land, his shoulders around his ears.
I sip my coffee and try to calm my nerves and keep my voice even. “Actually, I am going. He didn’t leave me much choice.”
I watch Gregory’s shoulders rise and fall with his breath. Even now, I don’t want people to know his underhand tricks, I don’t want people to think badly of him. I’m such an idiot.
“Shit! When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
* * *
I hug everyone when lunch is finished but I keep my arms locked around Sandy and Amanda because as much as I can talk to them on the phone, I won’t be able to hold them for six months. I leave tomorrow, that much is certain because Gregory made damn sure I couldn’t get out of it. Going to Neil was conniving but I have to hand it to him, it was the best way to make sure he got what he wanted. Rid of me. He got the CPS decision, made sure I could move on like he’d intended the moment he got the police involved that night. Then he pushed me away.
The question I don’t have an answer to and the question I ponder through our stubborn silence all the way back to the Shard, is why bother with last night? Last night I believed, more than ever. I even thought I saw, rather than just hoped, that he loves me.
I get that he has to let me in. We have hurdles to surmount. But I
thought we’d have a clear run now, stand together, have the chance to fall in love, know everything about each other without darkness or obligation looming. What’s clear to me now is his shadows run deeper than one night.
The silence of the car serves to heighten the tension but I won’t ask him here, now. I want to see his face when I ask him why?
He holds open the door to the apartment. I don’t look at him but I feel him scrutinising every move I make. He watches me from the centre of the open lounge as I pour a glass of water from the fridge filter and sip. The car ride home gave me time to think about what I wanted to say but now, face to face with the man I love, I’m lost for words.
Katrina Martin was right in the interview room three weeks ago. A perfect stranger could see it when I couldn’t. This is unrequited love.
“Are we going to talk about this?” he asks, as if he hasn’t already spoken a thousand words.
There’s a shift in his gorgeous brown eyes to softness, pity. The look churns in the pit of my stomach and cripples my chest. Then my eyes sting and there’s nothing I can do to stop the silent tears from rolling down my cheeks.
“Why?” I whisper with no strength in my words.
He takes a step towards me, his arms raised like he’s going to touch me. I jerk away from him.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Scarlett, please don’t cry.”
“Just tell me why. Do you hate me that much? Are you so desperate to get rid of me?”
His head falls to his chest and he looks up at me through burdened eyes. Despite everything, I want to hold him.
“You were right, Scarlett, when you said we’re bad for each other. Except you’re not bad for me.”
“Then why push me away?”
“For you own good. I’m no good for you. You should be with someone ten times the person I am.”
“Fuck you, Gregory, and your fucking righteousness.” My tears turn to spitting anger. “You’re a coward. You don’t love me and you’ve made damn sure you can get rid of me without having to tell me that. The last three weeks have been a joke, haven’t they? In fact all of this, two months, since the start. You wanted me to help you with your hostile takeover but you didn’t anticipate my father being murdered as a consequence. So you stayed, felt like you had to, thought you’d let me down gently eventually.”
“Scarlett.”
“No. You didn’t think I loved you enough to kill a man, did you? That’s a game changer right there. You had to keep me here until the case went away. Now you can finally get what you want, rid of me.”
“Just hear me out.”
“Oh, you mean discuss something with you. The way you discussed stealing my phone and emailing my boss behind my back?”
He sighs and rolls his set jaw. “I wanted you to have space, away from me, away from all the shit that I brought on you. Time to think about whether you want to be with me. I want to give you the chance to walk away.”
“Bullshit! You’re not giving me a chance, you’ve sent me halfway across the fucking world. What is there to think about, Gregory? I love you. Everything has gone away. Why now? Why after last night? I thought...I thought...”
“Last night was selfish, I know. And I’m sorry. I wasn’t ready to lose you, I wanted you to have one night, and...I wanted to have one night. I wanted you to have the fairy tale you deserve.”
I snort and shake my head. “I deserve? When are you going to realise that you deserve it too?”
He takes a deep breath and furrows his brow, looking almost pained.
“Scarlett, there’re things that you don’t know about me and if you knew them, you wouldn’t want to be with me. You’d run.”
“Is that what this is about? Are you afraid if I know I’ll leave you? Because, Gregory, I don’t want to go anywhere or be with anyone else.”
He pulls his fingers tightly through his hair. “No! Damn it, Scarlett, you should go. Can’t you see that’s exactly why things had to be this way?”
“So I have no option but to leave.”
He lifts his chin and looks blankly into my eyes. The lost boy from my dreams. Who are you protecting by driving me away, me or you?
“Tell me. If this is about giving me space to realise I want to be with you despite whatever it is you won’t tell me, explain. Make me understand. Tell me what I need to know to make up my mind.”
He stares. Unrelenting. Silent.
“No. Because this is about me leaving you, Gregory. Call it how it is. You don’t want me to think and decide to be with you. You want me to go. For good.”
His arm reaches out to me and for the briefest moment, I think I see panic on his face. “I do want to tell you and God, Scarlett, I want to love you. Each time you’ve looked at me, desperate for me to tell you I love you, I’ve wanted to. It’s broken my heart to hear you say it and not say it back to you.”
I step towards him. “Then say it. Tell me you love me. Tell me everything.”
He closes his eyes. “I just...can’t.”
“Fuck you, Gregory.”
* * *
He’s sitting on the coffee table in the lounge staring out to the black sky when I carry my suitcase downstairs. He turns to face me and I have to look away from the beauty of Mr. Gregory Ryans.
“Where are you going?” His voice is low, husky.
“I’m staying in a hotel tonight. I fly tomorrow. Let’s not drag this out.”
He stands now and I shudder. I’m just about keeping it together but if I feel him or smell him, I’ll crumble.
“If I wanted to come and see you?”
“Don’t. Spare me the let’s-be-friends and it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech. I can’t deal with it, Gregory. Just let me go. Please.”
The pressure behind my eyes is building again and the lump in my throat is making it hard to breathe. I need to get out of here. I make it to the door, struggling to hold it open and manoeuvre my suitcase, which makes me want to cry out in frustration. In my frenzy, I miss him come up on me. He lifts the suitcase to the hallway. He doesn’t touch me but he stands close. Too close.
“Scarlett...” My name rolls off his tongue in a soft, desperate whisper.
I close my eyes and try to focus on suppressing the lump in my throat but my stomach drops with hope. Please, Gregory, say those three words. Say them and I’ll drop everything to be with you.
He exhales, long and shallow, then there’s a shift in his mood, in the air. “Please be safe.”
I look at him now. I fix my eyes on his. “All this time I’ve been hoping you were in love with me.” I shake my head as a change settles over me. “You know what, Gregory, you don’t deserve me. And not for whatever reason you keep telling yourself, whatever secrets you keep. You don’t deserve me because you can’t see what’s standing right in front of you.”
In the lift I stare at the closed doors, my hand across my chest, making sure my heart is beating because at least part of me just died. Another part of Scarlett Heath, gone.
He was my constant, the anchor in my new world, the reason for everything that’s happened in the last two months. The only reason I knew I could get through it.
Now he’s gone and I don’t know who I am. Nothing makes sense. I’m alone and I’m terrified.
Please, Gregory, come back to me.
I’ll be waiting.
* * * * *
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Look for VENGEFUL LOVE: BLACK DIAMONDS the next book in the VENGEFUL LOVE series, coming from Laura Carter and Carina Press in May 2016.
Coming soon from Carina Press and Laura Carter
For a man like Gregory Ryans, walking away—no matter the odds—is never an option.
Read on for a sneak preview of
VENGEFUL LOVE: BLACK DIAMONDS,
the next book in Laura Carter’s VENGEFUL LOVE SERIES.
Gregory
Heavy rain blasts my face as my feet pound the path through St. James’s Park. It mixes with sweat and saturates the light grey hoody pulled over my head. I run across Blue Bridge, the impressive sight of Buckingham Palace to the left, Big Ben and the London Eye to the right. But even if I could see through my wet eyelashes and the January morning darkness, I wouldn’t care for the view of the buildings, just like I don’t care for the dead trees or the lifeless lake beneath the bridge. I stopped caring a long time ago. For more than twenty years I’ve concentrated on justifying my existence, finding a purpose, the reason I’m alive. The only building that’s come close to meaningful is my office block because three and a half months ago, all I had was power and money.
Three and a half months ago, I found my reason to live. I found the reason blood runs through my veins, the reason my heart beats. Now she’s gone.
Each day, I extend my running route and I lengthen the time I spend in the gym when I get back to the apartment. I stay in there, beating the shit out of the punch bag, until Jackson forces me to stop. I keep running and punching until my mind is crushed by a lack of oxygen and my body is physically drained. For those final ten minutes, just before I stop, I have nothing left to give, my mind and body are numb, but my heart pounds in my chest and it’s the only fucking way I know I’m still alive.
I used to have nightmares when I was a child, the kind of nightmares that make a boy piss the bed. Countless nights, I came close to dying in my subconscious. That’s the thing about your fucking consciousness, it always takes over just before you fall from the cliff, get hit by a train or get beaten to death by your father. It always wakes you up. No matter how much you want that train to smash straight through you, your consciousness wakes you up like it’s doing you a fucking favour. It’s not. It wakes you up into a living hell.
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