Chapter 5
‘Is this a good idea?’ Amanda asks through a mouthful of popcorn: her pregnancy craving, so she says. Williams is so giddy about being a daddy that he just caves, driving around London at all hours to find the particular brand of sweet and salty she likes.
‘Probably not,’ I admit.
Brows raised on my phone screen, she asks, ‘Do you want to know everything?’
‘That’s the million-dollar question,’ I confess, moving from my hotel bed to the mirrored wardrobe doors. ‘It feels like a first date.’
She sighs. ‘Just be careful, okay? Don’t forget he’s the reason you’re over there, alone.’
My best friend makes no attempt to conceal her dislike of Gregory. ‘You’re getting in some practice at playing Mummy here.’
She smiles but it’s fleeting. ‘Seriously, don’t fall for his shit; keep your wits about you.’
I nod at the phone.
‘All right. Well, off you go, have fun. Don’t wear anything too short and definitely do not put out.’
‘This conversation just ended.’
She laughs, a belly chuckle, then I hang up and cast the phone onto the bed.
I scrutinise my reflection one last time.
The cream dress I rushed out to purchase from one of Dubai’s extravagant malls is demure at the front.
A high, square neck, nipped in at the waist, resting an inch or so above my knee.
I bite my lip as I turn to look over the open back, held together by two gold chains, one between the shoulders, the other midway down, the drooping fabric finishing just above my coccyx.
I’ve curled and pinned up my hair and now, looking at myself, I feel silly.
I’ve dressed up to find out the worst there is to know about the man I love.
I’ve let myself get that whirling sensation in my stomach that only Gregory has ever caused.
He broke your heart, I remind myself.
He’s talking to Paddy at the poolside bar on the fourth floor.
The night is warm but a light breeze chills my back as I watch him.
His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to tease me with the olive skin of his chest. The sleeves are rolled up hench forearms, like they were last night.
Grey trousers hug every part of him they should and he looks tall, strong and suave.
His chiselled features tighten when Paddy inclines his head in my direction.
Gregory turns and watches me walk across the bar towards him.
‘Good evening.’ He holds out a cocktail glass for me to take.
I cast my eyes to Paddy, then back to the glass that Gregory is offering. ‘There’s an olive in my glass.’
‘It’s a dirty martini,’ Gregory says, stating the obvious.
I turn again to Paddy. ‘It’s not a dirty martini night.’
‘That’s what I said,’ he says, throwing his bar towel across his shoulder. ‘I said it’s a dry martini night but your man there said you’d like it dirty.’
Gregory smirks, smug and supercilious.
I take the cocktail stick with two olives from the glass Gregory’s still holding. ‘Did he?’ I put the stick in my mouth, locking my lips around it then draw back slowly, pulling off the olives.
His lips part slightly. Mission accomplished, I drop the used stick back into the glass. ‘I’d like a dry martini, please, Paddy. There’ll be nothing dirty about tonight.’
Paddy throws his head back on a laugh and Gregory rolls his jaw, the ghost of a smile on his face.
‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he whispers. His words knot a rope in my stomach.
‘Don’t, Gregory. I came here to talk, that’s all.’
He nods. ‘Let’s have your drink brought up to my room.’
‘Ryans, you can think again if you think—’
‘Scarlett, I’ve promised to tell you everything but I’m not sharing with the world. I’ve arranged for dinner in my room. I’m not suggesting you stay; I just don’t want to do this here.’
He leans over the bar and relays the message to Paddy, then he’s back by my side, smelling truly divine. He leans into me so I can feel his breath, an intoxicating blast of hormones on my neck. ‘You look stunning in this dress.’
I clear my dry throat. ‘Thank you.’
He gestures to the exit of the bar. ‘Shall we?’
I start to walk and falter when the flesh of his palm grazes my bare back. ‘Please, Gregory, don’t fuck with my head.’
I’m grateful for the group of four men and women who ride the lift with us. ‘Flutterflies,’ I almost inhale to myself, hands containing what threatens to fly right out of my torso.
‘Flutterflies?’ Gregory asks on a whisper.
I let out a short nervous laugh. ‘Fluttering butterflies. Witty, huh?’
‘Took the words right out of my mouth.’
We ride the final three floors alone, the lift’s arrival ping breaking the palpable tension between us.
He gestures for me to exit first. He swipes his key card at the large double doors of his room – the only one on the floor – and holds one open for me.
‘Naturally, you have a penthouse suite,’ I say, stepping into the vast lounge.
‘High and fast, baby.’
I turn my head quickly back and see his startled face. It’s scary how right it feels to hear him call me baby. Dangerous.
‘This is nice.’ I wander the mock marble tiles onto a soft cream carpet, the stem of my heels dipping into the floor.
An L-shape sofa sits in the middle of the lounge in front of an electric fire. Heatless flames are alight in a deep red feature wall. The room is warm and luxurious in every way: the fabrics, the colours, the outstanding view across the city and out to sea.
‘The dining room is this way.’ Gregory moves through an archway into a separate area backing onto the lounge.
In the middle of the space, there’s a table large enough for six suede chairs. Abstract art decorates the walls and makes the whole room feel contemporary. The table is set for two: one setting at the head of the table, the other to the side of the table. Too close.
A butler appears as if by magic. ‘Miss Heath,’ he says with a dip of the head, before pulling out the chair at the top of the table. ‘My name is Roshan and I will look after you tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ I offer a soft smile as he pushes me in and places a napkin across my legs with gloved hands.
As he makes a similar fuss for Gregory, I enjoy the panoramic view.
We sit in silence as Roshan makes quick work of pouring water, filling our white wine glasses with the Sancerre Gregory has picked for our first course, and placing fresh bread rolls on our side plates.
‘Are you ready for your appetiser, sir?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
With another dip of his head, Roshan leaves us in our awkwardness, his movement causing the intricate table lanterns to flicker. The soft light dances across Gregory’s face and knots the rope in my stomach tighter.
‘How do you see this playing out?’ I ask.
There’s a shift in his demeanour that’s reminiscent of the little boy from my dreams. Young Gregory is sitting at the table with me, reminding me what tonight is about. He’s going to reveal everything to me and the thought must scare him because it’s terrifying me.
He turns the base of his wine glass with his fingers, then slowly raises the frosted glass to his lips.
‘Like I said, I’m going to tell you everything.
The bad, the ugly, for as long as you want to listen.
I’ve never told anyone, not everything. I don’t talk about it.
I’m not sure how to say it out loud. All I know is that I have to try because the last five weeks have been hell.
I don’t want my life without you in it and I know you need to hear this if you’re ever going to understand why I pushed you away.
’ He takes another sip of Sancerre. ‘I’m praying that once you’ve heard it, you won’t run.
But I’ll understand if you want to. You should know that.
I wouldn’t blame you. God, I’d probably think you made the right decision.
I’ve brought so much shit on you and I— I couldn’t hurt you any more. ’
‘You did hurt me more, when you left me with no choice but to move halfway across the world.’
‘I know. I do. But I did it because I thought I was protecting you, Scarlett. I did it to keep you away from what I’m going to tell you.’
‘Your appetisers,’ Roshan announces as he re-enters the room, placing a trio of seafood in front of us both.
‘You have spiced crab cake here. In the glass, salmon mousse with cucumber garnish. In the bowl, cold fish soup with tomato base.’ He beams at me and tops up Gregory’s wine before leaving us alone.
Gregory leans back in his seat with a long inhale and twirls the base of his glass with his fingers again, staring down at the table.
‘I’ve only ever loved two other people.’ His eyes close and slowly reopen. ‘My mother. And my sister.’
‘You have a sister?’
‘I had a sister.’
He sips his wine and his shoulders drop a little. That’s the first admission and I don’t know if he started with the easiest or the hardest.
‘I’m sorry.’
He nods and stares back to the table. ‘Her name was Elsa. She was older than me. Four years older.’ He smiles sadly. ‘She was beautiful. Sweet. Smart and funny.’ His eyes flick up to mine and away again, just as quickly. ‘I adored her.’
I swallow as he makes the first chip in my heart. Pull yourself together, Scarlett; this is about him.
‘She— She ah—’ He drags a hand through his thick, brown hair. ‘She killed herself. She was fourteen.’
I dig my teeth into my gums, the pain a distraction from the lump building in my throat.
‘That’s why you were worried I might’ve harmed myself the night I didn’t come home from the office.’
He lifts his head to face me. ‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry, Gregory, I really am.’
He moves back to turning his glass. ‘She killed herself because of me, Scarlett, because I couldn’t protect her.’ He rubs a hand roughly across his mouth and chin.
‘Your father,’ I whisper.
‘Yes.’