‘The wedding ring.’
He shoots me a questioning glare. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘Is that you confessing that you were keeping things from me again? It doesn’t matter how I know. What does it mean? He’s coming for us?’
‘I think the only question is when and where.’
Goose pimples rise under the hairs on my arms. I gulp from my wine glass.
‘What’re we going to do?’ I try and fail to suppress the tremor in my voice.
‘You’re going to start listening to Jackson and me. Jackson will be with us and he’s got more guys at my mother’s house. He’s got extra security for the party. But I won’t just wait for him, not this time. Jackson’s pulled a team together to find him before he finds us. The problem is, he has no base here. He doesn’t live in England and he doesn’t have a routine.’
I take two deep breaths as subtly as I can. ‘Do you…’ My voice breaks so I cough to disguise my fear. ‘Do you think… How far will he go?’
Gregory refuses to meet my eye. His reaction alone is enough to give me the honest answer but he says, ‘We can’t know for sure.’
‘And you still don’t think the police should be involved?’
Gregory doesn’t respond. I know exactly why the police can’t be involved and it terrifies me. The thought that something might happen to him is unbearable.
We eat in relative silence. In bed, we both lie awake, staring at the ceiling. My mind flits from fear to anger and each time I sneak a glance at Gregory’s open eyes, I wish I could tell what mix of emotions he’s feeling.
I want this to end. However it happens, I just want him to be free.
32
‘Are you ready?’ Amanda asks, popping her head around my office door.
‘Yep. Just shutting down. Jackson’s going to drive us to Harrods, is that okay?’
‘Okay? It’s great! Some of us do not have a problem being chauffeured around.’
Jackson drops us at the Brompton Road entrance to the finest and largest department store in London and two concierges are on hand to welcome us. Concierges at Harrods are somewhat an institution in Britain. They have status. They wind up on postcards, tourists stop to take their photograph, sometimes they even make it to biscuit-tin lids. It’s their gentlemanly manner, their cute, knee-length, grey jackets with dazzling, gold buttons and their matching grey top hats. They’re part of what makes Harrods Harrods.
‘Follow me,’ Amanda demands.
‘Wait, I want to look at the bags first.’
‘No, we can do that later, this way.’
She struts towards the lift vestibule where we stare at bottle-green, marble walls trimmed with gold and wait for the lift. When the doors open on the women’s floor, a pristine lady greets us. I’d place in her forties despite her flawless, youthful-looking skin. A pearl necklace hangs over her demure, black blouse, which is tucked into an expensive-looking, black-and-silver-striped pencil skirt. Her brown hair looks as if she’s just stepped out of a salon and sits with perfect bounce onto her shoulders. I recognise the scent of expensive perfume as she offers her hand, first to Amanda.
‘Good evening, I’m Julia. Scarlett, is it?’
‘Oh, no, Amanda. It’s nice to meet you. This is Scarlett.’
‘I’m sorry. It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Scarlett.’
‘Ahh, hi, it’s nice to meet you. What is going on?’
Julia titters. ‘He’s sneaky, isn’t he? Come this way. I spend a lot of time styling Mr Ryans, although I think I know what he likes by now so I don’t see him as often as I used to.’
‘It’s so important to have a brand image, I think,’ Amanda says, feigning the accent of the Queen, mimicking Julia. I want to laugh but refrain.
Following behind Julia as she strides without fault in her red-soled shoes, Amanda explains, ‘Gregory said I could pick whatever I want if I got you here. He said you’d say no if he suggested it to you.’
‘I can’t afford this,’ I try to whisper.
