Chapter 10
My phone rings for the second time in as many minutes. Amanda’s face dances across the screen to her designated Sabrina Carpenter ringtone.
‘It’s holidaaaaaay tiiime,’ she screams through the handset.
‘I’ll be two minutes. I need to finish something.’
‘What are you doing? Give it to a trainee or something.’
‘I’m finalising a plan to register the international intellectual property portfolio of—’
‘Urgh, forget it, I don’t care. Just hurry up!’
‘I’d be much quicker if you left me alone.’ I giggle despite myself. ‘Is Gregory with you?’
‘No, it’s just Ed and me; we’re in the car outside. The driver’s pissed, too. Says he’s on double yellows.’
I look skyward. ‘Jackson wouldn’t behave like that.’
‘But Jackson is on holidaaaaaay!’
I grin, because not only is Jackson on holiday, he’s in St Lucia, preparing for his wedding to my favourite woman, friend and stand-in mum. ‘Okay. I’m coming. Two minutes. But where is Greg—’
The line goes dead.
I drink the last mouthful of latte from the takeaway cup on my desk and click send on my email of instructions to the associate I’ve asked to manage our foreign counsel whilst I’m away.
Despite being tired from my all-nighter, I smile as my computer shuts down for two whole weeks.
Two whole weeks of a devastatingly sexy CEO.
I wanted so much to go home with him after our showdown on the sofa in his office but I had Kenneth drop me back at Saunders, knowing I’d be leaving from here to go direct to the airport.
It’s been a long night but the plan to register the intellectual property rights in Black Diamonds is set in Europe, China, the US and Australia, then the rest of the world.
Once that’s done, Gregory and Constant Sources can develop the game and keep it on the market, or they can box it, but one thing’s for sure, his company profits will be safe now and, on reflection and after a good tension-busting shag, maybe seven hundred and fifty thousand wasn’t too high a price for the benefits Constant Sources could reap.
Not that I’ll be letting Mr Arrogant know that.
I fasten the button of my damson blazer over my dress and pull on my grey mac, releasing my hair across my shoulders. It’s soft and a little wavy after the rush job I made of showering and drying my hair in the firm’s facilities a couple of hours ago but at least I’m clean.
Not having packed myself or watched my suitcase being lugged into a car to go to the airport is making me slightly anxious.
I don’t know how Gregory delegates all these things.
I really hope Amy didn’t forget anything.
A little flutter of excitement comes over me.
Lots of people who love Sandy and Jackson in one place to witness their marriage. Eek!
Before I leave, I hand a manuscript amended document to Margaret in the secretary’s station.
‘Aren’t you supposed to be at the airport by now?’
I glance at my watch: 9.17.
‘Seventeen minutes ago. This is the last thing. Please would you make these changes then save the document to the Constant Sources file and email it to Hugh? He’ll be managing things whilst I’m away but if you get the faintest scent that he’s in over his head, please call me. I’ll have my phone—’
‘Scarlett, go, now!’
‘Okay, I’m going. But call me if—’
‘I’m not calling you, Scarlett. Go!’
* * *
A black stretch-limousine, freshly polished for the occasion, waits outside the revolving doors. A grouchy-looking, muscular man who’s making a really poor show of wearing a black suit, white shirt and black tie steps out of the driver side.
‘Miss Heath,’ he grumbles with a dip of his head.
‘Hi, erm?’
‘Scott.’
‘Nice to meet you, Scott. Sorry for the delay. Where’s Kenneth?’
Scott moves to the back door of the limousine. ‘He’s driving Mr Ryans to the airport.’
‘Gregory isn’t coming with us?’
‘No.’
Feeling like I’ve exhausted Scott’s desire to converse, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the giddiness inside the car.
‘Finallyyyyyy!’ Amanda leaps from the limousine and wraps her arms tightly around my neck. ‘Hurry up and get inside; I’ll get hives from being too close to the office.’
Amanda looks a million dollars, as ever. Her long, flowing, striped maxi seems out of place for the beginning of February in England but less so than the oversized floppy hat that she repositions on her head as she sits back into the black leather of the limo.
‘Here,’ she says, shuffling a weekend bag my way. ‘I think it’s stuff for you to change into on the plane.’ I peek inside the bag to see material in summer colours and Harrods tags poking through tissue paper.
Julia and Lucas, my knights in Jimmy Choos.
Williams drops a kiss to my cheek as he hands me a glass of champagne. ‘Not a replacement for sleep but you could probably use this.’
‘Pol Roger,’ I confirm after the first sip. ‘Where’s Gregory?’
‘He had things to do. Work, I think he said. He didn’t really give me any details.’
‘That sounds like Gregory.’
Williams gulps his fizz as if each mouthful isn’t worth a small fortune. ‘You know what he’s like. He’s as bad as you at switching off.’
I’d retort with a quip but I know he’s right.
Gregory and I were, in some respects, cut from the same cloth.
We drive past the Royal Courts of Justice, along Strand, then Fleet Street and out towards London City Airport.
By the time my glass of champagne has settled on my empty stomach and tired head, I finally start to relax.
Amanda holds out her empty glass for Williams to fill with sparkling elderflower water. ‘Right, so tell me the plan.’
I lean my head back against the seat as Williams appeases her.
‘We’re flying out at ten-thirty. It’ll take about nine hours to get to St Lucia.’
‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, at ten-thirty? We’re going to be late! If I miss this holiday, I swear I’ll—’
‘Relax,’ says Williams. ‘You can’t really be late for a private jet.’
‘A what?’ Amanda’s jaw hangs loose, her emerald eyes wide.
Williams and I share a laugh.
‘Are we really going on a private jet?’
‘Gregory doesn’t take commercial flights,’ Williams explains.
‘Holy shit! Ha! Right, so we get to St Lucia today, late afternoon St Lucia time?’
Williams nods.
‘Girls’ night tonight, then the wedding is tomorrow and we’re all staying at the resort where Sandy and Jackson are now?’
I suspect Williams nods again but I’m resting my eyes.
‘Then we have twelve days of St Lucia beach time. Fabulous!’
‘Not exactly. We have one day on St Lucia after the wedding, then we’re taking the jet to St Maarten.’
‘Right. What’s St Maarten?’
‘Another island.’
‘Is it nice?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why are we going there?’
‘Because that’s where the yacht is.’
‘The what?’
‘Gregory’s yacht. It’s anchored at St Maarten.’
‘Holy shit! We’re going on a yacht? Ha!’
We’ve just passed Canary Wharf and I’m struggling to stay awake when Scott’s mobile rings and Gregory’s voice comes over the limo speakers.
‘Mr Ryans.’
‘Scott, I’m at the airport and you aren’t here.’
‘We’re on our way, Mr Ryans. We’re coming past Blackwall station now.’
‘Why are you late? Is there traffic?’
‘No, sir. Miss… er… We had a delay before we left the city.’
‘Make time.’
And then he’s gone but my stomach is still turning like a seashell wind chime in a gale.
We finally pull onto the airport tarmac and Amanda bursts from the car before Scott can make it to the passenger door. Williams gestures for me to go next.
There he is. At the door of the GJR jet. Beige chinos hugging firm thighs, crisp white shirt unbuttoned by two. And when he sees me, his mouth twists into a knicker-melting smile.
Lord have mercy because I know I’m going to sin.
Amanda bounces up the steps, plants a fleeting and less than heartfelt kiss on Gregory’s cheek, then runs inside the plane. Though they still don’t see eye to eye, I’m sure the jet is easing her pain.
Scott hands over control of the luggage to a member of the jet crew, the same crew I met on our amazing night at the opera in Rome. I force from my mind thoughts of the day that followed, the pain of discovering Gregory’s betrayal in sending me away.
Williams shakes Gregory’s hand and says something that makes them both laugh. Then, unusually, the pair share what can only be described as a man hug – shoulders barging, fists thumping backs.
Meanwhile, my synapses have forgot how to send basic commands to my limbs.
‘Have a nice holiday, Miss Heath,’ Scott says, coming back to the limousine.
I should probably check for drool. ‘Thanks, Scott.’
The engines roar to life, dragging my attention to the jet then back to the man who owns it, as he mouths, ‘Get here.’
And when I reach him, all I can manage is, ‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
I gaze into his eyes, tiredness heightening my hormones that are already raging.
He presses his lips to my brow, then rests them on the soft tip of my nose.
I breathe in his warm, familiar scent, then he lifts my chin with his index finger and places his lips on mine.
I mould to the shape of his body as he pulls me into him, and though my heart is racing, I melt into his kiss.
‘Get a room!’ Amanda chimes.
Gregory steps back and drops his forehead to mine, muttering, ‘We could have another murder charge on our hands if I have to spend two weeks in that woman’s company.’
‘Stow your Glock for a fortnight, Ryans.’
As soon as the captain announces we’re at cruising altitude, we unfasten our seatbelts and the others make their way to three tall stools that are rooted to the floor around a small bar.
‘Virgin Mary, sir?’ the steward asks Gregory.
‘Actually, Michael, let’s make an exception to the rule. Somewhere in the world, it’s after lunch already.’
‘Bloody Mary, sir?’
‘Sounds good.’ Then he turns to me. ‘Scarlett, Bloody Mary?’
‘Not for me, thank you. I’m going to change into something more comfortable and I’m sorry to be a pooper but I really need to take a nap.’
‘Noooo! Scarlett, it’s holidaaaay tiiiime! These next two weeks, I task you to drink whenever I can’t.’ Amanda squees whilst patting her rounding tummy fondly.
‘Amanda, if we’re all going to get through this trip in harmony, you need to calm down,’ I tell her.
‘I’m just trying to make the most of my last child-free holiday.’
‘By behaving like a child,’ Gregory grumbles.
‘All right, you two, play nice,’ Williams says, pulling Amanda to his side as he perches his long, athletic legs onto a stool.
I shake my head. ‘I’ll be back.’
‘There’s sleepwear on your pillow, baby.’
My pillow? ‘Naturally, I have my own pillow on your private jet.’
‘High and fast,’ he says with a smirk.
‘I’m beginning to think that’s your trademark, Mr Ryans.’
‘Speaking of my intellectual property rights…’
I rush to him and nip his lips shut with my fingers.
‘Please. I’ve been dealing with your intellectual property all night.
Not now.’ I drop a quick kiss to his cheek – smooth like he’s recently shaved – and make my way through the curtains into the section of the jet that hosts four beds, each with its own set of red curtains to match the carpet.
On the last of the four, I find a black silk night shirt.
Casting my blazer on the opposite bed, I close my eyes and creak my neck, then flip my long hair across one shoulder, struggling to locate the zip at the back of my dress.
A strong arm wraps around my stomach, two luscious, full lips meet the naked flesh of my neck, and my zip is drawn teasingly down my back.
I could sleep for an eternity but my mind still jumps immediately to lascivious thoughts of the man pressed against me and rolling his hardening length against my arse.
‘I wanted to tuck you in,’ he whispers into my ear.
‘Tuck me in, or tuck into me?’
I feel his lips curl as he nibbles my lobe. ‘The latter.’ His mouth moves to my shoulder blade as he pushes my dress down my arms, letting it hang on my hips. ‘But I’ll be kind.’ His tongue traces a lazy line up my vertebrae. ‘I’ll let you lay back and think of Scotland.’
‘England. Lay back and think of England,’ I say with a giggle.
‘I love that sound. Never stop making that sound for me.’
‘I’m going to have to.’ I turn and press my chest into his, smirking. ‘If you intend to take me on this jet, I’ll need to be quiet.’
He drops his head to one side. ‘Why, Miss Heath, if I didn’t know better, I’d say the thought of getting caught turns you on.’ As he moves his hand under my dress, pushing my thong aside and leisurely stroking my slick entrance, he says, ‘In fact, I’d have to say it definitely turns you on.’
A muffled groan escapes me as he pushes his fingers into me, bending them, sweeping my sensitive wall.
‘I’m going to make this quick, baby, then I’m going to let you sleep.’
‘You’re so thoughtful, Ryans.’
He tugs my lower back, pulling me against him, and grinds his pelvis as his fingers mirror the action against my insides. ‘Thoughtful would be letting you sleep.’
I move my hand between us and cup his solid package over his chinos. ‘No. That would be very unthoughtful.’
He pushes my dress to the floor, his eyes black and wild with hunger.
Then he lifts my thighs to his hips and lays me back on the single bed: arse, back, head.
I lick my lips with desire as he unbuttons his belt and chinos and slips out of his loafers.
He crawls between my legs and pulls the curtain closed across the bed, feigning privacy.
There’s something about him being too eager to even take off his clothes, something about the fact we could be heard or caught out at any time, and there’s definitely something about entering the Mile High Club on my boyfriend’s jet.