Chapter 14 #3
‘Enough. No matter what happens, she can walk away if she wants to but this way, she won’t have to wonder every fucking day for the rest of her life whether she should’ve done it. I know what it’s like to live with a shadow, Jackson, and she doesn’t deserve that.’
Jackson’s exhale is long and considered. ‘Wipe down her hands in case they check for powder residue.’
I gasp as I’m awoken by a cleaner tapping on the door to my office.
‘Can I empty your bin, Miss?’
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. ‘Yes. Of course. What time is it?’
‘Just before seven, Miss.’
Shit!
My phone screen is full. Twelve missed calls, three voicemails and a stream of text messages. He’s been awake all night.
Double shit!
Firing off a message to tell him I worked through the night and fell asleep is not going to cut it but I send the message anyway.
The phone rings almost immediately. I’m not ready to talk to him.
My brain still hasn’t processed yesterday’s developments and now it has to decipher what’s real and what’s fiction from my nightmare.
They can’t be real memories. I don’t remember any conversation about police; I only remember Gregory telling me what I had to say to them, making me repeat his version of my statement verbatim.
The ringing cuts off then starts up again. With shaking fingers, I type a message.
I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I just need some space.
They’re there again, those words, lingering. She can move on.
I drop my phone into my handbag and pull on my coat. I want to leave the office before people start turning up but Gregory won’t have left the apartment yet. Unlocking my laptop from the docking station, I slip it into my carry case and head to a coffee shop.
The barista brings a large latte with two extra shots and an almond croissant to my table and I mutter my thanks. I tear a couple of bite-size chunks from the pastry then push them around the plate.
I keep coming back to the same conclusion.
He’s doing this for me. He’s putting himself through the uncertainty, the stress, because he doesn’t want me to live in a world where I feel trapped like he does.
This isn’t about him wishing he’d killed his father or about him wanting to punish himself because he brought this on me.
This is about him making sure that I can move on, without the weight of my conscience, without wondering if I did the wrong thing.
Is that different to me moving on from him, leaving him?
She can leave me if she wants to. Does that mean he won’t leave me?
My wandering mind snaps back to real time. He’s in my face, speaking through his teeth.
‘Never. Do. That. To. Me. Again. Do you understand? Anything could have happened to you. For fuck’s sake, Scarlett, I’ve had Jackson driving around the city; I’ve been to your office block. It was fucking irresponsible and selfish!’
My chair scrapes against the tiled floor as I stand, my eyes wide, my mind working on stringing together a pissed-off retort. My skin heats under the eyes of impatient suits queuing to be served, irritated baristas and the handful of seated coffee-drinkers.
‘Why didn’t you call or message? Sandy said… Christ, it doesn’t matter what she said. You should’ve come home.’
‘So now you’re conspiring with Sandy too. What did she say?’
‘She said you didn’t want to come home. God, I thought. If you’d have done anything stupid, if you’d harmed yourself, I don’t know what I would’ve done.’ He’s shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut.
‘Gregory, stop being ridiculous. I can’t believe you think I’d—’
‘How the hell am I supposed to know either way if you don’t call?’
I fold my arms across my body instinctively as I cast my eyes around the space. ‘Could you please stop being neurotic?’ The words grate through my gritted teeth.
He sighs; his shoulders sag. ‘Things have been hard but… but I thought that as long as you and I were okay, we’d get through it. It broke my heart to think you wouldn’t come home to me, Scarlett.’
And the look in your eyes just broke mine.
‘I feel suffocated, Gregory. There’s so much going on and I don’t know how to deal with it. I want to be strong for you. I know everything is worse for you; even though I don’t want you to, you’re taking the blame. I just need space to think. Away from it all.’
The question of Dubai pricks my mind again.
He steps towards me, the feeling of his warm palms on my cheeks soothing me. ‘Baby, I’d rather you were honest with me. I’d rather see you messed up and be able to take care of you than not see you.’
I look up and find two apprehensive but gentle eyes questioning me. ‘That’s just it. I don’t want you to have to take care of me. I don’t want to be another burden for you.’ I look away from him, internally cursing the tears spiking the backs of my eyes.
‘Look at me.’
I don’t.
‘Baby, look at me, please.’
Swallowing away the impending rush of tears, I do.
‘I need to ask you something,’ I say.
‘Anything.’
‘That night. When it happened. Were you thinking about not calling the police?’
His gentle fingertips stroke an imaginary strand from my brow. ‘Where’s this come from?’
‘I had a dream and you were talking to Jackson, shouting at him, telling him you had to call the police because it was the only way I could move on. Did that happen?’
‘Yes.’
His arms move to my back, preventing me from stepping away from him.
‘Why? Why would you put yourself through all this if you could’ve cleaned it up and forgotten about it?’
‘Do you really need me to answer that?’
‘I think I do.’
He sighs as he finally takes a seat in the dark wood chair opposite mine and pulls my chair to the side of the table next to his. I sit down, letting my knee graze his as he unbuttons his grey blazer. He picks up my hand and entwines my fingers in his.
‘I’ve lived my whole life carrying around regrets and what ifs.
I’ve told you before, my world is dark. I’ve screwed up; I’ve failed people.
But you, you’re like this bright light. You’re smart, you’re sassy, you’re too damn gorgeous for your own good.
You live in a different world to mine and I’m not going to mess up your life too. I refuse to let that happen.’
‘But it would mess up my life if I couldn’t be with you.’ I mumble the words, watching his fingers draw shapes around mine.
He stops drawing and grips my hand. ‘Don’t say things like that, Scarlett.
You’d be fine without me. You’d be better off without me.
But I know that night is eating you up inside.
I can see it. I know what it looks like to turn black from the inside out.
You need confirmation that you did the right thing.
’ He lifts my hand, pressing my fingertips against his lips, then he looks me in the eye.
‘You did the right thing, Scarlett, and when this is cleaned up, the right way, you’ll see that. I promise you’ll be able to move on.’
‘It sounds like you’re breaking up with me and you just can’t say it straight.’ A shiver runs the length of my spine.
His Adam’s apple moves slowly up and down his taut throat.
My stomach falls and I hold my breath. ‘That’s not what’s happening, Scarlett.
I’ve told you before, you’d be wise to walk away from me but I’m too selfish to tell you to go.
I wish I wasn’t; I wish I could find the strength to let you find someone right for you. But I can’t let you go.’
‘I don’t ever want you to do that.’
His eyes are fixed on mine as he retrieves his dancing phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. ‘Sydney, what now? Which one? Fuck integrity. Give them more. However much it takes, just fix it.’
The phone is pushed with bitterness back into his suit jacket. He reaches for a piece of my uneaten pastry and pops it in his mouth, sucking the tip of his index finger then his thumb as he stands. ‘Let’s go.’
I pull on my coat and gather my things. ‘I need to go home for a shower,’ I say, following his back as he navigates the tables of café.
He turns his head back over his shoulder to deliver a sexy half-smile and twinkling eyes. ‘I was counting on it.’
‘You’re coming with me?’
‘I most certainly am, Miss Heath.’ He holds open the door and gestures for me to step onto the now bustling street before him.
‘So you listened to me when I said I needed space then?’
He suddenly grabs me, nudging me back against the Mercedes.
My squeal has yet more people tuning in to this morning’s Gregory Show.
He leans into my neck, with no regard for his surroundings, his breath hot on my skin.
I close my eyes and breathe him in, his familiar scent making me melt against him.
‘I listen to your body language. We established a long time ago that what you say and do often don’t tally. ’
I smile, remembering our first night together.
How he drove me insane with desire in our own private box at the theatre.
A torturous three-hour performance. Then, my biggest conflict was whether I let myself get close to a client.
Now, there are so many conflicts torturing me, I’ve lost my grip on life.
And as much as I hate myself for it, I can’t stop the thought lingering that this all started with Gregory, the man I love.
He thinks he’s screwed up. I don’t even think MI5 could solve the mixed-up puzzle in my head right now.
He steps back, the exposure to the cold air reminding me of our position in the street. Subtly adjusting his blazer to cover himself, he inclines his head, gesturing for me to climb into the back seat before he slides in next to me.
‘Change of plan, Jackson. Back to the Shard.’
‘Sure thing.’ He flicks an eye to me through the rear-view mirror and shakes his head with a smirk when I huffily cross my arms. Whether it’s intuition or the silent understanding between these men, Jackson rolls up the partition screen.