Chapter 19
I picked everything I knew he’d love on me and for the first time, Julia and Lucas didn’t say it looked ‘all wrong.’ In fact, they said nothing.
Julia held her perfectly manicured fingers to her lips and Lucas fanned his face.
I took that as meaning I’d achieved my goal.
Amanda confirmed as much as she sat on the plush sofa of the style room facing me, sipping a virgin cocktail, compliments of Harrods – or rather compliments of Gregory’s account.
‘You look fit to be the fiancée of a bazillionaire,’ she said with a proud, sort of mothering smile.
Now, Amy helps me into the gown. She lowers the crimson silk base layer over my arms and down my body, being careful not to touch my hair, which has been curled and pinned low at the back of my head, the front swept softly across my brow.
As the silk reaches the floor and pools around my high-heeled shoes, Amy adjusts the deep red lace layer over top and fixes the train, the lace overhanging the silk by two or three inches.
She fastens the invisible zip, then adjusts the half-inch straps – lace, silk and a white-gold chain entwining across each shoulder.
I’m grateful for her help but missing Sandy.
Remembering how she had helped me into the blue gown Gregory bought and had delivered to me the first time we went to an event together.
Jumping beans dance in my stomach. It’s our coming-out night.
There’ll be cameras, eyes of jealous women, catty whispers like there always are when I’m seen with Gregory.
But tonight, I don’t care. I glance down at the rock on my finger. He’s mine.
Amy turns me to face the floor-length mirror in the walk-in wardrobe, then moves behind me and hangs a necklace against my chest. Three thin rows of shining diamonds grace my skin above the structured sweetheart finish of the dress. He’ll love it.
Amy holds up two long diamond earrings to match the necklace. Once I’ve secured them myself, she fastens a matching bracelet around my wrist, then Amy hands me a small silk bag.
‘Knock ’em dead, peaches.’
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, watching my shoulders move up and down in the mirror, the dancing beans in my stomach fiercely trying to escape. ‘Let’s do it.’
I hear Gregory winding up a call. By the time I make it to the staircase, he’s standing in the lounge, watching me descend, gown trailing the steps behind me.
I will never get used to how striking this man is.
He has one hand in the pocket of his trousers, holding his dinner jacket back, exposing his black waistcoat. His bow tie sits against a crisp white shirt. His hair is slicked back, making his strong, dark features seem more intense. And he only has eyes for me.
He offers a hand to guide me down the final steps. As his skin meets mine, fireworks burst from my chest, a charge running through my blood, as if it’s the first time we’ve touched.
As I reach the lounge floor and stand, hopelessly lost in him, he raises my fingers to his lips.
‘You’re going to make my dreams come true when you agree to be mine forever.’
‘I’m already yours, Gregory. Every part of me. There’s no going back from you.’
‘Forever,’ he whispers, before pressing his mouth to mine with a gentle, lingering kiss. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he tells me. ‘This dress.’ He takes my hand and pushes me away from him, twirling me under his arm.
‘I thought you might like it.’
‘You were right.’ He pulls me back to him, leaning into me. ‘And I can’t wait to see it on my bedroom floor,’ he whispers, causing me to laugh against his chest.
‘All set?’ Jackson asks, making me aware of his presence in the room.
Gregory winks at me, arrogant and delicious. ‘All set.’
* * *
We join queuing cars of guests opposite Hyde Park and Jackson rolls us to the red carpet for our allocated arrival slot.
‘Okay?’ Gregory asks.
I realise that my grip has tightened on his hand, my fingers digging into his skin. There’s an answer to that question but I need to think about what it is and in that thinking time, he leans into me and holds a calming hand to my cheek.
‘It’s just us, baby, going to dinner. You and me.’
I nod once uncertainly. He takes my left hand and adjusts my engagement ring so it rests just so on my finger as Jackson opens the back door of the Bentley.
As soon as Gregory climbs out of the Bentley, cameras start to flash. He reaches out for my hand and holds me firmly as he leads us along the red carpet.
‘Mr Ryans!’
‘Mr Ryans, is it true you’re engaged?’
‘Mr Ryans, who is she?’
She. I guess that’s me and I guess they’re surprised that I’m not some model or actress or socialite like most of Gregory’s red-carpet dates.
I’d like nothing more than to get away from the invasion but Gregory turns into me. ‘Look at me, baby. It’s just me. You and me, angel.’
As he stares into my eyes, he gives me that irresistible half-smile and I genuinely smile back in response.
Then he takes my left hand and lifts it to his cheek.
My muscle memory takes over, moving my thumb across his freshly shaven skin as he rests the tip of his nose to mine, then his lips meet mine and my eyes close, taking me to our world.
‘Just us,’ he whispers.
‘You just made me flash my ring, didn’t you?’
‘Too right. You’re mine and I want the world to know that I’m the luckiest man alive.’
With the confidence he gives me, I turn back to the cameras with a tight smile, his hand still firmly gripping mine.
We’re greeted in the hotel lobby by another photographer, who takes a formal shot, then we’re each handed a glass of very welcome champagne.
The space has been transformed into a swath of colours representing the four charities benefitting from the evening: purple for Transform, a children’s abuse charity, pink for Brainy Children, a charity researching brain tumours in children, sky blue for Early Birds, dedicated to premature baby studies, and aquamarine for Dreams, a children’s hospice that works in conjunction with the hospital Gregory visits every quarter or so.
‘Gregory, old boy.’ A man in his late fifties with soft eyes, a healthy tan and a slick head of silver hair heads our way.
Gregory takes the hand offered to him. ‘Thomas, are you well?’ Then he leans in to kiss Thomas’s wife, Norah, on each cheek. ‘May I introduce you to Scarlett, my fiancée.’
‘Scarlett, Thomas and Norah are heavily involved with Dreams. Norah is the chair of the charity and does a marvellous job.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you both,’ I say genuinely, not least because they are two of few seemingly sincere people I’ve met at events Gregory frequents. ‘You must be immensely proud. The place looks superb.’
‘I wish I could say that was down to me,’ Norah says. ‘But I have a wonderful company that I work with every year, me and the chairs of the other charities here tonight anyway. It’s they who pull everything together, and for free. The designers have an eye for those finer details.’
‘It must be a very rewarding job.’
‘It is rewarding, indeed, though it never feels much like a job. You should meet some of the children we get to work with. Wonders of the world. Incredibly courageous.’
The pianist returns from a break and begins to play and for a moment, the room falls quiet but for the hypnotic sound of her music.
It’s a song I recognise from an album by Yiruma.
My dad would listen to his music sometimes after a long day in surgery and when he became very sick, on the bad days when he struggled to leave his room, Sandy or I would put the album on loop.
It always soothed him, comforted him and with that, it brought me pleasure, too.
I don’t realise I’m transfixed until Thomas speaks close to my ear.
‘The piece is called “Love Me”. Her name is Violet. Wonderful, isn’t she? ’
‘She’s played for our annual gala for the last three years,’ Norah adds. ‘Such a lovely young woman.’
I turn back to them and nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, afraid to speak until the haze over my eyes dissipates. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I eventually say.
‘You know, I think she plays for weddings,’ Norah says, casting mischievous eyes to Gregory, who rests his hand on the small of my back.
‘Excuse us,’ Thomas says, taking his wife’s hand. ‘We’ll see you at the table.’
‘A delight to meet you,’ Norah says.
‘Gregory! Darling!’ Lara’s voice hits us before we see her making her way through the crowd. Gregory’s mother is as glamorous as ever in a structured black satin gown, her ears, neck and wrists adorned in pearls.
‘How are you, mother?’ Gregory asks.
‘Oh my beautiful daughter-in-law-to-be, look at you. Absolutely dazzling,’ Lara says, ignoring her son in a way that makes me chuckle and tell him in a look, I guess I’m the apple of her eye now.
‘Hi, Lara, how are you?’
‘Better now, better now.’
‘Hi, Lawrence,’ I say, accepting a kiss on each cheek from Gregory’s step-dad and business partner.
As Lara begins excitedly hurling extravagant wedding plans at me, my eyes lock onto a group of three women over her shoulder, whispering, their attention obviously fixed on my left hand until one of them notices me looking.
With a tut, an eye roll and one hand on hip, they turn their backs to me.
Then I see her: Stella. She has a scowl like thunder as she makes her way towards us, practically dragging her very wealthy husband, Jean-Pierre, behind her.
She all but dives on Gregory, wrapping her arms too tightly around him and putting her lips too close to his as she kisses his cheeks.
What a magnificent dick she is.
‘Stella, how nice to see you,’ I lie, turning her body to me and away from my fiancé to air-kiss her cheeks.
Urgh, I really wish Amanda hadn’t decided she was too fat and not pregnant enough looking to face a camera. She’d have a passive-aggressive put-down just perfect for Stella.
As I’m thinking that, Gregory tucks me into his side and nuzzles the hair at my temple.