Chapter 33 #2
My cheeks burn under the four pairs of dissecting eyes. A thousand responses dance around my synapses: gracious, polite, ridiculous.
‘I’m not sure he’ll ever be tamed,’ I say.
‘That sounds like the Gregory we know.’ Jean Pierre’s French accent is smooth. He raises his champagne flute.
‘What is it you do, Scarlett?’ Gordon asks.
‘I’m a lawyer. And you?’
‘I design furniture. You might have seen my store in Knightsbridge: Belle Maison.’
‘I have, actually. Your furniture is amazing: very chic.’
‘That’s what we try to achieve.’
‘I’m curious,’ Stella says with an underlying sharpness to her voice, her lean frame looking down on me by an inch or two. ‘How did you meet Gregory?’
Her abruptness catches me off guard. Her plump, red lips pull to a pout and her eyes bore into mine, her fierceness augmented by her severe updo, scraping her bottle-blonde back from her face into a chignon.
‘I did some work for him.’
‘Uh huh, and what kind of work was that?’
I pause for a second, wondering what’s passed between her and Gregory to make her take a tone that I really don’t care for.
‘The confidential kind.’
Vivienne breaks the silence with a high-pitched cackle and the group continues making inane conversation.
‘Lara, you don’t mind if I just steal Scarlett away, do you? I’m sure I just saw someone I know,’ Amanda says.
‘Really? No, of course not.’
Amanda drags me away, muttering. ‘He’s blatantly turned her down before. What a cow!’
‘Not just me then?’
‘Not. At. All. But forget her, Mr Cover-Me-In-Chocolate-Sauce-And-Lick-Me-Clean is at twelve o’clock!’
‘Amanda, that’s vulgar. Plus, what’s happening with you and?—’
‘O. M. G. OMG! OMG! That’s the guy who plays that guy in Inception . Quirky but smokin’ hot.’
‘Which guy?’ I turn to follow the approximate direction of Amanda’s stalking eyes. ‘Ohhhh, Tom Hardy? Yes, that’s Tom Hardy.’
‘Holy shit! How can you be so calm?’
‘Jesus, Amanda, did someone give you a Viagra? They’re just normal people.’
‘You’re so cerebral.’
‘What, have you swallowed a dictionary now?’
She scowls at me as a waiter steps towards us with a tray of full champagne flutes. Amanda takes the last swig from her glass and replaces it with a full one. I deposit my empty glass on the tray.
‘You need to be careful,’ I say. ‘I think Williams likes you and I know you don’t really like him but?—’
‘Really? Do you think so?’ She’s suddenly bright-eyed and paying attention.
‘Of course. Don’t you think so?’
‘I thought we were just fooling around.’
A moving hand catches my eye. Lawrence is beckoning us over to a pocket of men and women who are closer to our own age than most people we’ve seen so far – certainly closer than that catty cow, Stella.
‘Emily, this is Scarlett, Gregory’s girlfriend, and her friend Amanda. Scarlett, Amanda, this is my niece Emily, my nephew-to-be Harry, and their friends Archie and Penelope.’
‘Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.’
‘Lawrence tells me you’re a lawyer,’ Harry says. ‘I work for Bruckheimer.’
‘You’re almost next door to us then,’ I say. ‘Amanda and I both work for Saunders.’
‘We should have drinks sometime,’ Emily says with a genuine smile. ‘The four of us meet up with some other friends every Friday at Crux. We’ve tried to get Gregory there but he’s always too busy. Maybe you can persuade him.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘It’s a wonder we’ve never seen you,’ Amanda chips in. ‘Scarlett and I go to Crux if we go out straight from work.’
A loud burst of laughter comes from a gathering not far from us.
Turning my head to the right, I see Williams telling a story of some sort to the responsive crowd, Gregory relaxed beside him, a rare but handsome sight.
When the laughter subsides, Gregory turns his head around the crowd, finally locating me.
Fire burns in my body and everything under my ribcage hammers to be let out.
I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching him.
As a waiter offers fresh drinks to the group, Gregory pats Williams on the shoulder as if to say, You’ve got this .
Then he replaces his one empty glass with two full flutes.
A silver-haired lady stops him midway but it’s a momentary distraction only. He’s making a line for me, focused, intent, as if I’m the only person in the vicinity.
‘Hi,’ he says, handing me a glass of champagne.
‘Hi.’
My tongue unwittingly strokes my lips where I’d like to feel his.
‘Gregory, we were just saying how we always invite you to Friday drinks and you never come,’ Emily teases.
‘Are you sure I’ve never been? Not once?’
‘You know you’ve never been,’ Emily scolds.
‘All right then, maybe I haven’t.’ Gregory smiles.
After the stress of the week, his good-humoured mood seems both misplaced and incredibly charming.
‘I always try to force him, Emily,’ Williams says, striding into the group.
Amanda watches him as he chats merrily with Harry.
I raise a brow when I catch her eye. She rolls her eyes in response but continues to listen intently to Williams’ stories and bumps her shoulder into his when he teases her.
Gregory stays by my side through another glass of champagne and maybe thirty, forty or more introductions.
I lost count some time ago. Even when I step inside to say hello to Sandy, who’s making demands of the agency wait staff, he’s with me.
Everywhere I go, scowls follow me. Little do those women know that I’m terrified my bubble could burst at any time.
Lara makes a speech around eleven o’clock, dragging an uncomfortable-looking Lawrence to the front of the big swing band’s stage to say a few words.
Gregory wraps an arm around my waist as we listen to his mother’s speech and I imagine I’m the envy of every female at the party.
At the end of her speech, she announces the final set from the band. ‘Before the fireworks take place at midnight and the party continues,’ she says, receiving a chorus of cheers.
The swing band strikes up with Michael Buble’s ‘Everything.’
‘I love this song.’
‘Would you like to dance?’ Gregory asks, holding out a hand expectantly.
I let him lead me to the dance floor. Holding up my right hand, he pulls my waist tightly into him.
He winks and the weight falls out of my legs.
My breathing quickens in anticipation as I will him to kiss me.
Instead, as the chorus kicks in, he turns us around the dance floor, increasing speed until I thrust my head back with laughter.
When the verse returns, he twirls me under his arm then spins me into his body, my back against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and holds us still, his warm breath at my lobe making the hairs rise on the back of my neck, each of my sensitive spots whirring to action.
Then he spins me away from him and back, readying us to turn our way through the second chorus.
The band picks up pace at the key change and Gregory spins me away and back to him again but this time, he puts his hands beneath my arms and lifts me straight above him, turning me in time to the beat as I gaze into his alluring, brown gems. The music slows and he lowers me down to him.
Returning my feet to the floor, he takes my cheek in his hand and rests his brow on mine.
‘Kiss me, Gregory Ryans.’
Our mouths meet, slowly, purposefully, full of everything I feel and hope he feels. He swallows my moan as my body moulds to his. My breasts rub against his pecs, my thighs lock onto his, my hips subtly grind his crotch. We’re the only two people in our dark, twisted but perfect world.
‘Don’t do that to me.’ His words are heavy and said through gritted teeth.
I open my eyes and look directly into his, starving, craving satisfaction from the only man who can sate my hunger.
‘How much do you want to see the fireworks?’ he asks.
‘Not at all.’
His irises darken and his pupils dilate. Despite all these people, I could make love to him right here and now.
‘I’ll get Jackson.’
I nod and he leaves to find Jackson while I locate Amanda, who’s still quaffing free champagne with Williams, Emily and Harry. By the time Gregory leads me out front to the Bentley, the first firework goes off. I start as it squeals and explodes in a thunderous roar.
* * *
Gregory sits in the back of the car with me but the partition remains down.
Our moods have changed – his no doubt following his conversation with Jackson and the team, mine inexplicably.
The black leather of the seat is cold and chills my skin through my coat, making me shiver.
Tension creeps into my neck and limbs. Gregory places an arm around my waist but for a change, it doesn’t remove the uneasiness building inside me.
‘You okay?’
‘Mmm, sure,’ I lie.
The back roads that Jackson takes through the city are pitch black and sinister.
We wait on the declining ramp as the basement door rolls open under the Shard. Florescent lights illuminate the garage and at first, everything seems normal. Jackson starts to reverse the Bentley into a space next to the Mercedes.
The engine’s hum falls silent. Gregory moves to get out of the car.
‘Wait!’ Jackson snaps, already halfway out of his door.
‘Stay inside,’ Gregory says to me.
Jackson crouches beside the Mercedes and runs a finger along the long, jagged rubber edges of what once was the rear tyre. Anxiety murmurs in my chest.
Gregory looks at the far side of the Mercedes. ‘They’re all slashed.’
My heart thuds like a jackhammer. My body stiffens. My lungs forget how to breathe.
‘The door,’ Gregory says, looking at the entrance to the lift vestibule, forced and damaged, ajar.
‘Romeo One, come in,’ Jackson says into his radio. ‘Romeo One, come in.’
There is a crackle on the line then, ‘Romeo, this is Romeo One.’
‘Send a car. Now!’
Gregory opens the rear passenger door to the Bentley.
‘Scarlett, I want you to take the car and leave.’
Panic and adrenalin take over my body.
‘What? I… no. I’m staying with you.’
‘Scarlett, do as I say.’