Chapter 16
Yesterday, Richard confirmed that the tabloid has agreed to settle.
DI Barnes confirmed that Trina has been suspended on suspicion of releasing a conspiracy theory to the press.
We’re one week into our holiday and since their talk, Gregory and Amanda are getting along, possibly even enjoying each other’s company.
Yet, I wake to find myself alone in bed for the third time in five nights and I wish I knew how to help him.
I’ve been doing what I know, what we know, helping him forget.
But the effect wears off. It doesn’t stop the next nightmare from coming.
‘Come to bed,’ I whisper into his naked back, running my hands down his shoulders.
He’s leaning over the rail of the yacht holding a crystal glass of liquor, most likely Scotch. ‘I’ll be back shortly. You go get some sleep.’
I lie in bed, tossing and turning, wishing he would come back to me.
As tiredness takes over my thoughts, a sense of uneasiness fills my mind.
I might think my own worries about Katrina Martin were irrational if I didn’t know the same thoughts were keeping Gregory up every night and sending him back to his dark, closed world.
* * *
I stretch in the brightness of our bedroom, sunlight beaming in through the small window and reflecting off the bright walls. I’ve managed to sleep until after ten; that’s practically unheard of. The disrupted previous nights have obviously taken their toll.
After a shower, I dirty back up with an application of suntan lotion, then pull on one of several pairs of light denim shorts Julia and Lucas packed for me. Pairing the shorts with a white vest over a shimmering silver-grey bikini, I head out to the deck.
Bertie has left plates of food from breakfast on the table, covered by linen napkins. I pour a coffee and take it with a slice of fresh bread and jam to the sun loungers where Amanda is laid out with the latest edition of her favourite magazine.
I settle onto the lounger next to her. ‘Morning.’
‘Hey. What do you think of this?’ She opens a double spread of pages to me and I’m confronted by images of ten vintage designer prams. ‘I’m thinking of going old chic. I think Baby would like it.’
‘I like them. Erm, why do you have a baby magazine hidden inside Vogue?’
‘Meh, Ed keeps telling me to calm down but it’s exciting.
I have so many ideas for clothes, the nursery.
Oh gosh, there are some amazing Christening ideas in here, too.
I mean, I think we should be married before the Christening, it doesn’t seem right otherwise, but there’s no harm in future-proofing.
And, of course, we still need to think about a house for us all. ’
‘A house? Wouldn’t you stay in Williams’s place?’
‘Ongoing discussion. Ed has a two bed but I think we need a house. A home for Baby.’
‘Wow, Amanda, I don’t say this to be shitty, really I don’t.’
‘But you think I need to calm down, too?’
‘I, no, not calm down, it’s cute that you’re so excited. Just, maybe remember that Williams might need a little more time to come round.’
‘I know. Bloody men. That’s why I’m hiding the mag. In my defence, he didn’t need time to knock me up.’
I splutter through my mouthful of coffee. ‘Fair point. I’m sure you remind him often enough. Where are they anyway?’
She points loosely in the direction of the sea, completely disinterested.
Taking my coffee to the side of the deck, I watch both men blazing across the water on swanky-looking jet skis, wearing board shorts, bare chests and huge grins.
They power straight towards each other, so fast, my shoulders rise to my ears the closer they get and I hold my breath when they’re just metres apart, practically exhaling the words, ‘Holy shit!’ when they both turn right at the last minute.
I watch them for twenty minutes or so before Gregory notices me and rides back towards the boat.
‘Get here,’ he shouts, as he pulls the jet ski up to the steps at the back of the yacht.
Carl fixes me into a blue life jacket.
‘How come I have to wear one of these and you don’t?’
‘Because you’re small and delicate and you’ve never ridden a jet ski before… and I love you.’
Grinning, I hold out my hand for him to help me onto the back of his man toy. ‘You win.’ Tucking into his back, I wrap my hands tightly around his waist.
‘Hold on, baby, I’m going to take you for the ride of your life.’
He skids across the water and sets off in a straight line, turning slightly into the rolling sea. I bounce in my seat, holding onto him tighter with each wave. Water sprays in my face so I can hardly see but adrenalin has me screaming in delight.
‘I want to drive!’ I shout over the roar of the engine and the crashing of water.
‘What?’
‘I want to give you the ride of your life, handsome.’
He throws his head back with a laugh but slows the jet ski to a stop. He unclips the plastic spiral wire that’s attached to his shorts. ‘All right, climb around me and attach this to your jacket.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a safety wire. If you come off, the wire unclips and kills the engine.’
‘Am I going to come off?’
‘If you drive like a girl, you might.’
I laugh hard from my abdomen. ‘I’ll show you how a girl drives.’
I twist the handle bar right back and we shoot off across the water, crashing over waves and landing with a thud.
‘Scarlett, slow down, you’re insane.’
‘High and fast, baby!’ I shout, enjoying the feel of his chest chugging against my back and his arms wrapped tightly around me.
I turn us into corners, lifting us out of our seats, water blazing into my face. God, this is fun!
Eventually, I slow us down in the middle of the sea and enjoy his arms roaming across my stomach. ‘I don’t ever want to go home.’
‘Me neither, baby.’
I lean back into him with a heavy sigh. ‘I wish it could be just us, like this, always.’
‘But you know what, I’m looking forward to going home. To our home and having you all to myself, in our bed, on our sofa, on our desk, in our shower.’
‘You’ve been thinking about this.’
‘Every minute of every day.’ He presses his lips to my forehead. ‘Three more days until I can tie you to our bed and fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.’
‘I’m not sure that’ll ever happen.’
* * *
Around lunchtime, Richard emails a scan of the settlement agreement signed on behalf of the tabloid. I run off a copy in Gregory’s small on-boat office and have him sign before scanning the executed version back to Richard to file.
‘Would you like wine with lunch today?’ Bryony asks when the four of us take our seats and wait for Bertie’s legendary fish stew.
‘Bring a bottle of Pol Rodger first, Bryony,’ Gregory says.
With full glasses – well, Amanda’s one third full – Amanda and Williams eye Gregory, waiting for a clue as to why we’re drinking champagne. There’s no speech to toast, no acknowledgement of what I know Gregory is feeling. He tips his glass subtly in my direction.
We fended off this attack and we’ll fend off every other attack that comes our way. Together.
Gregory takes hold of my hand on top of the table and strokes my knuckles. The conversation is lively and Gregory and I are as involved as the others but beneath the table, my foot slips lazily over the skin of his exposed calf. He doesn’t react, which I see as a challenge I’d like to conquer.
Sipping the cool champagne, I slide my foot higher, over the seam of his beige shorts. A challenge. But still no reaction. As he speaks, I work my toes higher still and halt over his crotch. He stops talking and shuffles slightly, pushing back against my instep.
‘Wouldn’t you agree, Scarlett?’ Williams asks.
‘Ah, yes, yep, sure.’
‘What do you agree with, Scarlett?’ Gregory asks, his head angled to one side, a delicious half-smile, cocky and sexy as hell, drawn on his lips.
I jab my foot gently into his package. ‘What Williams said.’
Williams continues to talk and Amanda jumps in to protest against whatever his line of argument is. I increase the pressure of my toes over Gregory’s growing bulge.
‘Here we go, guys. No shellfish in this one for you,’ Bryony says, putting a large, white bowl in front of Amanda. She places a regular bowl, with shellfish, in front of me and Bertie places two similar bowls in front of Williams and Gregory.
I rub the ball of my foot across Gregory’s crotch one last time before he reaches down, squeezing my toes until I yelp and bang my knee off the underside of the table. He glares at me, shaking his head, as Williams tries to stop a smirk pulling on his lips.
Maybe I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.
The stew is fantastic, delicious poached white fish, langoustine, crab and clams in a rich tomato and onion sauce, just the faintest taste of nutmeg coming through. It’s too good to leave but I stay away from the bread, as does Gregory. We’re both hungry, but not for bread.
Amanda takes my attention as Bryony clears our empty bowls. ‘I’m thinking of cutting my hair. Going for a sophisticated bob. What do you think?’
From the corner of my eye, I see Gregory and Williams have one of their unspoken conversations. ‘Are you sure? I love your hair the way it is. You’ve always had long hair.’
Williams takes Amanda’s hand across the table. ‘Why don’t you let me show you around the island?’ he asks, making me look to the instigator of that idea and finding two mischievous browns staring back at me.
‘Sure. You two want to come?’
‘Oh, no, we’re good. You guys enjoy,’ I say, not moving my hazel-greens from my dazzling man.
When they’re gone, Gregory’s lust-filled eyes are drinking me in. He pushes his chair back from the table. ‘Get here.’
I go to him, straddling him in his chair.
‘You want to make me hard, baby?’
‘Rock hard,’ I whisper.
‘Tell me why.’
I fist my hands in his hair and hover my lips over his. ‘Because I want you inside me. I want you to drive me wild the way I know you can.’