Chapter 5
It doesn’t take much for Amanda to persuade me that a Friday cocktail or two might not be a terrible idea. It’s been a rough week and I’ll rush straight home to Dad afterwards.
The bar is heaving with suits. Each group has spread itself out in a circle around a stack of handbags, briefcases and laptop carriers.
Laughter and rowdy taunts are almost as loud as the music playing in the background.
It’s clear as I watch people stagger and gesture flamboyantly that some groups have been out for a boozy office lunch, which has tumbled through into the evening.
The leather booths are full and the bar queue is three people deep.
There’s no way you could be alone with your thoughts in here and that’s fine by me.
‘What are you having, ladies?’ a man asks from the second row of people fighting their way into the bar, the question almost certainly directed at Amanda.
‘Thank you, I’ll get my own,’ I say.
It makes no real difference. The ‘gentleman’ is fixated on Amanda, who already has him wrapped around her finger like her auburn hair as she twists it, flashing her most flirtatious smile, her green, silk blouse making her skin dazzle.
‘We’ll take two cosmopolitans.’
Her wish is granted. We wait by a pillar close enough for me to watch the bartender make my cocktail and to witness it being carried to me un-tampered.
‘Would you relax? We’ll talk to him for five then he’ll find a pretty blonde and leave us to enjoy our drinks,’ Amanda says in her usual carefree way.
He doesn’t leave us in five minutes. They never do.
Amanda has a way of completely mesmerising men.
In a bid to be polite, I talk to his friend, whose name is drowned out by the guitars of Oasis’s ‘Roll with It.’ Feigning interest in his alleged mansion, complete with a ping-pong machine and full Sky package, is a struggle.
When I ask his name for the third time after ten minutes of listening to his mindless dribble, he seems to take the hint and excuses himself to use the gents’.
Amanda glares at me over the shoulder of Mr Cosmopolitan but laughs when I raise my arms to my sides and shrug.
‘Drink?’ I shout in Amanda’s direction, taking care not to appear to offer a drink to her suitor.
‘Please. I’ll come to the bar with you!’
And that is how she does it. Amanda slips out of Mr Cosmopolitan’s arm around her waist and she’ll never speak to him again.
‘My round, since you got the last ones,’ I joke.
As our number of cocktails increases, the number of suits in the bar decreases and there’s space for us to hop on two bar stools at a table.
‘These shoes are made for sitting under a desk,’ I say, bending to rub my ankles.
‘Tell me about it. Another?’ Amanda asks, nodding towards my nearly empty cocktail glass.
‘I’m not sure I can. Four on an empty stomach might be my limit. Do you want to get some food?’
‘Can we have another if we eat?’
‘Deal.’ I tip my head back slightly to drain the last sip from my glass.
It happens in slow motion, one drop of reality at a time. Gregory shakes hands with the doorman first, then Williams does the same. Gregory looks as fiercely intense as he does at work but Williams looks comfortable and smiles, a rogue strand of sandy blond decorating his forehead.
‘Shit!’ I whisper, almost to myself but Amanda catches it.
‘What?’ She follows my gaze. ‘Oh, shit indeed, he is N-I-C-E, nice!’
He is. His intensity adds to his mystery.
He looks confident and self-assured, arrogant even, as he makes his way through the bar, his magnetism attracting looks from both men and women.
The neat fit of his straight-cut, indigo jeans, soft blue jumper and navy blazer make him look effortlessly well-groomed and wealthy.
His slick, dark hair is so perfectly, purposefully cool, I want to pull my fingers straight through it.
An irrational need to have him pangs between my legs.
‘We have to leave,’ I demand.
‘What? Why? The party’s just getting started. Mr Every-Woman-Has-To-Try-This-Just-Once has just walked in.’
‘Amanda, that’s the bazillionaire CEO!’ I say through my teeth, conscious that Gregory and Williams are walking in our general direction.
‘Nooo! Really? I can see why you find him so, how did you put it? Interesting. I’d like to see what’s under that jumper. Look at those shoulders. Swimmer. Must be.’
‘Amanda. Stop it! I’m well on my way to drunk. I can’t speak to him and I really can’t see him like that , at all, ever, not when I’ve had a drink anyway,’ I babble. Who am I kidding? I’d love to imagine him all over me.
‘Wow, listen to you, you’re a wreck. I can see why. I love a man who can wear red.’
‘Red? Oh, you mean Williams. That’s his sidekick. No, Gregory, erm, the CEO, is the other one.’
‘Then I’m free to tantalise the tastebuds of the messy blond?’ Amanda asks, her attempt at sultry disguised in a cocktail-fuelled slur.
‘Yes,’ I say, relieved. ‘No. No, you can’t. They’re clients. Both of them.’
‘Even more reason for a little business networking, wouldn’t you say?’
‘No, let’s go. We were going for food anyway. Let’s leave before they see us.’
I pick up her bag and pass it to her but she’s already off her stool and walking towards Williams.
‘Amanda!’ I snap but it’s lost in the open space.
‘Hi, I’m Amanda.’ I hear in the distance.
Oh God.
I make a move to stand then sit back down. I reach for my handbag then leave it where it is. I don’t want to look but my eyes defy me, lured like metal to his magnet. As if he felt my eyes burning into him, he’s staring back at me with those devastatingly dark pools.
No getting out of it now.
As I walk towards the three of them, he never takes his eyes off me.
I instantly regret my choice of slightly too-tight-fitting dress and probably too-high shoes this morning.
I imagine he’s scrutinising every inch of me that’s out of place, whilst he looks immaculate.
I’d feel no more exposed if I were naked in the crowded room.
I wonder if he can see the tired, emotional wreck I am behind my cover of his legal advisor.
I wonder if he can see how nervous he makes me. How nervous he’s making me right now.
As I watching the protruding veins of his neck move with his swallow, I attempt to compose myself as I hold out my feebly trembling hand for him to shake.
I manage a weak smile but no words leave my dry throat.
He takes my hand as I watch his mouth greet me.
His touch sends my irrational hormones into a frenzy.
‘Miss Heath,’ Williams interjects. A welcome distraction, an escape from the spell of Gregory Ryans, and a chance for the ache in my sex to dissipate.
‘Mr Williams, it’s a pleasure to see you. You’ve already met my friend, Amanda.’
‘And colleague,’ Amanda jumps in. ‘I’m a lawyer too.’
Williams smiles politely whilst Amanda beams at him, flashing her best come-get-me pout and adjusting her body slightly, pushing her arse and tits further out. Without turning in his direction, I can feel that Gregory has not stopped staring at me.
Williams continues to indulge Amanda in flirtatious conversation and Amanda less than subtly shuffles until I’m presented with her back.
‘So, what brings you here tonight, Mr Ryans? I mean, do you come here often? Not that you shouldn’t, or should. It’s up to you where you go,’ I stutter as my cheeks flame.
He sniggers at me but returns the most delectable half-smile, half-smirk I’ve ever seen.
The kind that travels straight to my vagina before taking me to dinner.
He places his hands in his jean pockets and slightly flexes his hips towards me.
Despite all the will in the world, I’m unable to stop my gaze from dropping to his crotch.
I rub the butt of my hand against my brow and search the floor. For something. Anything.
‘Well, it was a pleasure to see you, gents,’ I say, loud enough for Williams to hear over Amanda’s chatter. ‘I hope you have a nice evening; we’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves.’
‘Where are you going?’ Williams asks. Seemingly, Amanda has already caught his attention.
‘Yes, Scarlett, where are we going?’ Amanda asks, engrossed in Williams’ reaction.
‘For food. We were just talking about food, remember?’
‘So were we,’ Williams jumps in, eyeing Gregory as he speaks. As is their way, they have an unspoken exchange.
‘But you just got here,’ Amanda says.
‘We were only going to have one drink then go for food. Unless you have other plans, we could all eat together?’ Williams suggests.
‘Yes, and no, we don’t,’ Amanda replies, almost in a shrill with excitement. ‘I’m starving.’
Now she’s hungry?
I’m suddenly remarkably sober and Amanda is suddenly remarkably drunk, more on Williams than alcohol, I think.
This has gone badly wrong. I can’t possibly refuse to have dinner with a client.
Likewise, I can’t possibly have dinner with this particular client.
How can I spend any longer in the company of Gregory Ryans without my raging libido combusting?
‘Sure. That’s a great idea. Erm, if that works for you too, Mr Ryans?’ I will him to object and save me from myself.
‘I’ll go on the condition that you call me Gregory from now on,’ he says, leaning into me as he speaks, his big hands still resting in his jean pockets. ‘On social occasions, at least.’
No, no, no to social occasions with the sexy as sin billionaire.
I nod in uncomfortable acquiescence. The shift of my head lands my gaze on that alluring crotch again.
‘Settled then,’ Williams declares.
Gregory takes the lead through the bar to leave.
I’d bet he makes love the way he moves that fine, sculpted South African arse through the bar…
with the grace of a gazelle and the command, pounce and salacious bite of a lion.
He glances back over his shoulder and flashes that agonising half-smile once more.
Dear God.