Chapter 3
‘You know why I had to do it,’ Gregory says through gritted teeth, as he and Jackson drink coffee at the breakfast bar.
‘I know why you think you had to do it but I’ll never understand it.’
‘And I can’t explain my need but I have to make this right in a way that means she can move on.’
My heart falls to the pit of my stomach at his words.
I suspected I’d fallen too deep too quickly but I’ve never worried that he doesn’t want to be with me.
Until now. I pause on the stairs, not knowing whether to continue towards them or run back to the safety of Gregory’s bedroom.
The floor creaks beneath me as I turn on my bare feet and two sets of eyes regard me.
He knows I overheard, his expressionless face telling me he doesn’t know what to do. With all the fake confidence I can muster, I descend the remaining stairs, tucking my shirt into my tapered trousers.
He watches me from his stool on the other side of the breakfast bar as I make my way towards them.
He looks tired after a long night and only a few hours’ sleep but no less perfect than usual, his tight, black T-shirt fitting exactly the contours of his toned body north of his dark, low-rise jeans. The casual version of the CEO.
‘Coffee?’
‘Please.’
Gregory pours me a drink from the filter machine of his pristine kitchen and quickly turns his wary eyes back to me like I’m cracked glass, ready to shatter at any moment. I take the cup between my hands and bring it to my nose, inhaling the rich scent. Both men regard me, neither speaking.
‘Don’t mind me,’ I say, wanting them to pick up where they left off.
Looks are exchanged between the three of us but no words are spoken. I refuse to be first; I want to know what they’re thinking.
After minutes of exasperating silence, Jackson speaks.
‘Scarlett, we need to know what you said to the police.’
It’s not what I was expecting. They don’t trust me. I shake my head, a sharp shake that betrays my irritation – and take my coffee with me to stand in front of the panoramic view across London.
Bright November sun illuminates the skyline and beams down on the River Thames.
South Bank is bustling with people enjoying their Sunday, strolling with hot drinks, sitting outside cafés, snapping pictures of London’s Tower Bridge and generally going about their lives, as if last night, I didn’t kill a man in cold blood.
I killed a man, yet it’s Gregory whose suffering has only just begun.
I can’t let him take the blame. I won’t.
What if he’s convicted? He could go to prison and all these years, all the years he’s worked to be free from his father, would be for nothing.
He’ll be caged like an animal, all because his own blood cursed him the day he was born.
Fire burns in my eyes. I know what I have to do.
‘I told them exactly what we agreed.’
I feel rather than hear the relief-filled sighs behind me.
‘But,’ I take a long, hot gulp of my coffee and brace myself, ‘today, I’m going to DI Barnes and I’m telling him the truth.’
I turn to see Jackson off his stool, his body rigid with anger, his eyes crazed. ‘You—’
‘Jackson!’ Gregory snaps. ‘Calm down. Scarlett, come over here, please.’ He’s got his business face on and he’s speaking with authority. This is the version of Gregory Ryans people don’t refuse.
Jackson’s temper doesn’t wane. ‘Calm down? Are you kidding me? The bobbies should’ve never been involved in the first place.’
Gregory slams the side of his fist on the breakfast bar, making me jump. ‘Jackson, calm down or get out.’ They glare at each other, tension palpable, until Jackson takes a seat.
‘Then you talk some sense into her.’
‘Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,’ I say more confidently than I feel and sliding onto the stool beside Gregory. ‘I understand why you’re annoyed, I really do. We had a deal and I’m breaking it but last night, I wasn’t thinking straight and now I am.’
Jackson shakes his head.
‘I did this. I killed him and I might be going to hell but I won’t be dragging anyone down with me.’ I drink down the rest of my hot coffee and straighten my back. ‘I took the law into my own hands and I should be punished.’
Gregory puts a hand on my thigh and turns me on the stool to face him. ‘Scarlett, you don’t deserve to be punished for what you did. You saved my life. Do you understand that?’ His brown eyes burn into mine. ‘I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t picked up that gun.’
I wince at the thought. ‘Don’t say that.’
‘It’s the truth. And I’ll never be able to repay that debt to you.’
‘Gregory, you don’t owe me anything; you never will.’
He holds my gaze and lifts a hand to my cheek as if we’re alone in the room. How can he tell me to move on in one breath and treat me like I’m the centre of his universe in another? ‘I owe you my entire existence, Scarlett, in more ways than one.’
‘And I won’t let it be taken from you. Not now. Not after everything.’ I bring his hand down to my lap, the breakfast bar shielding it from Jackson’s view, and run my fingers over the scars on his wrist. ‘You’ve fought long enough to be free.’
He turns his arm, concealing his scars, then pulls me towards him, nestling me between his thighs. ‘You amaze me, Scarlett Heath,’ he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. ‘Everything I’ve put you through since we met.’
‘And as ever, you’re giving me whiplash, Gregory Ryans.’
‘While I hate to be the one to spoil the party,’ Jackson interrupts, ‘this just can’t happen.’
Gregory lets his shoulders sag. ‘She knows that.’
‘No. She doesn’t,’ I say, pulling away from him.
‘What if you go to prison, Gregory? Have you thought about that? I would lose you and you might as well have died!’
Gregory jerks his head back, startled.
‘I’m sorry, I… I don’t even want to think, I can’t even think about that.
My point is, I couldn’t stand to see you go to prison and more to the point, I won’t let you to go to prison for something I’ve done.
’ The pressure behind my eyes is climbing again and tears are beginning to obscure my vision.
‘Hey, come here.’ His soft eyes have returned and he pulls me, leaving me no choice but to fall between his thighs again. ‘I’m not going to prison. It was self-defence.’
‘You don’t know that. In the end, the CPS will prosecute. They can’t let a gun murder slide in London. They’ll pull your reputation to the ground. You could lose your companies. You could lose everything.’ The tears come and fall like Niagara. ‘I won’t let you.’
‘I’m not giving you a choice,’ he says, wiping my cheeks with his thumbs. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve done everything right.’
‘It’s not right.’ I saved you. You were my primary motivation in the moment. But what about the part of me that killed in the name of my dad and that little boy from my subconscious? ‘I need to be tried and if a jury thinks I did the right thing, they’ll protect me, but that’s not your job.’
‘Damn it, Scarlett, no!’ He darts up, forcing me to stagger backwards. ‘I won’t go to prison and this case won’t even be tried.’
‘But. You. Can’t. Be. Sure,’ I say angrily, tears still rolling down my face.
‘Christ! Stop crying!’ He’s pissed. Every muscle in his body is tensed, the sinews of his neck are taut and his square jaw is set. He takes a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face. ‘Please stop crying. Please. You’re killing me.’
His browns soften when he lowers to my level.
He takes my hands and puts them around his neck.
‘I know that you want to do the right thing. I know that you feel like you’ve done the wrong thing but you haven’t.
I’ve shattered your world, Scarlett. I did this to you.
I brought everything on you and you have to let me protect you now.
Trust me. This won’t go to trial. It’ll be over soon. ’
He leads me to the sofa and sits us both down so I’m resting in his lap. Jackson limps to join us and sits onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. ‘Scarlett, this is a world you don’t know and you don’t understand. You need to trust Gregory and me, okay?’
For some unbeknown reason, I do trust them both, so I nod, but it’s anything other than okay.
Jackson holds my attention and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘If you change your story now, I can’t help us. You’ll put us all in jeopardy and that’s just one more charge we’d have to deal with.’
He’s right. I couldn’t see it before but he’s right. If I go to DI Barnes now, I don’t just confess that I did wrong; I tell him that Jackson and Gregory lied too.
I sniff back the last of my tears and climb off Gregory’s lap. ‘I get it.’
‘Where’re you going?’ Gregory asks.
I wipe my cheeks and pull my shoulders back. ‘I’m about to hire you the best goddamn KC I know. Get your cheque book ready.’
Gregory stands from the sofa. ‘We discussed lawyers last night. Lawyers imply I have something to hide.’
‘No, Gregory, lawyers bend the law and by fucking God do you need someone to bend the law right now.’
‘Which one?’ I ask, looking around the multitude of GR and GJR number plates in the basement. GR 1. GR 10. GJR 1. GJR 10. GJR 9.
‘Lamborghini.’ The lights flash on the bright-yellow car when Gregory presses a key in its direction.
I climb – or rather fall – inside and for the brief moment I’m afforded alone, I let my head roll back against the leather seat, trying to absorb everything that’s passed in the last twenty-four hours but unable to shift my focus far from the words she can move on.
Gregory loosens the buttons of his navy trench coat and slips into the driver seat as if he isn’t only inches from the ground.
He eases the Lamborghini to motion and my eyes follow the movements of his hands as he sets the car into reverse and manoeuvres out of the car park with just one hand on the wheel.
A small move that’s irrationally sexy. We drive in painful silence for what feels like an eternity.