Jackson and Gregory are already dressed in their finest black tie and waiting in the lounge. Gregory watches the city below with his hands in his pockets. He turns to look at me, takes one hand from his pocket and places it across his chest in that way he does. A smile, so forceful I can’t prevent it, draws across my face. His gaze never leaves mine as I move down the staircase. We stand face to face, time frozen, my heart beating against my eardrums. Eventually, he places a hand to the side of my face and strokes my cheek with his thumb.
He kisses me, long and slow.
‘This is real,’ I whisper to myself. I kiss him again, with the passion that threatens to take over everything I am, my rules, my order, my world as I’ve always known it. And I’ll do anything in my power to make sure I never lose it. Right now, in this moment, the only thing that scares me is how far I’d go to protect what’s mine. That awareness is more terrifying that any monster roaming the streets of London.
Jackson clears his throat, reminding me that we’re not alone. ‘We need to be going.’
Gregory and I walk out the front entrance and Jackson is already there with a black Bentley.
‘No Mercedes?’
‘Not tonight,’ Gregory says.
He opens the rear door then takes my hand and guides me into the back of the car, being careful not to step on the train of my dress.
‘Give us five, Jackson,’ he says. The partition between the front and back of the car rises.
Gregory takes my chin between his forefinger and thumb. ‘You’re incredible.’
‘I love you,’ I whisper. I can’t believe I’ve said it but I mean it.
Briefly, I see his gorgeous half-smile and then he places his lips on mine. I want him so much, I could burst. My abdomen ties itself in knots. I never want to forget this feeling. I love him with every inch of my body and I’ll wait and hope for him to feel the same if that’s what it takes, but I need him to know that I love everything about him: every mood, every glance. My heart, my soul, my mind, my body – I give it all up to this man.
We’re on the gravel driveway of Lara’s property before we stop kissing. Faux flame lights line the path to the mansion. Jackson slows the car and crawls behind a chain of other chauffeured cars to the red-carpet entrance. Press line the sides of the red carpet behind a chain fence. My throat is dry with terror. I squeeze Gregory’s hand.
‘Hey, they aren’t here for us. It’s just you and me, baby.’ He kisses my brow then pecks the tip of my nose. I nod twice, quickly, and take a deep breath to compose myself. My heart starts pounding when the car in front of us, the last car between the red carpet and ours, moves forwards. Jackson gets out and opens the back door. The camera flashes start immediately.
Gregory steps out of the Bentley to shouts of, ‘Mr Ryans!’ and, ‘Gregory!’
‘Holy shit!’
Gregory turns and leans into the back of the car to see me taking short, shallow breaths.
‘Jesus, Gregory, I can see the headlines now. “CEO Slumming It. From Beauty to the Beast”.’
‘Or maybe they’ll say, “CEO and the Most Captivating Woman at the Gala”. Come on, you’re with me; I won’t let you go.’
He offers his hand and I take it, trembling. ‘Let’s get it over with.’
As I step out of the car, the flashes come faster and the shouts become, ‘Who is she?’
Gregory squeezes my hand tighter and leads me to the middle of the red carpet. ‘Smile, you’re beautiful,’ he whispers into my ear.
I try to remember how I’ve seen women pose in magazines. Then, completely unexpectedly, Gregory pulls me into him, looks deep into my eyes and kisses me. With his hand holding my hips to him, he leans me back. I open my eyes mid kiss and ask myself if this is the same, private, mysterious CEO I know.
Waiters hold trays aloft, full of champagne flutes, in the hallway of Lara’s home. People looking like members of the aristocracy, covered in fine materials, frosted with diamonds and doused in the scent of money, chatter in small pockets. All eyes watch Gregory as we make our way through the reception, his presence commanding attention. I try to avoid making eye contact with the women who are clearly scrutinising me and whispering their catty findings. At the end of the hallway, an extravagant display of champagne glasses, towering and glowing with the flow of golden bubbles, draws my attention.
‘Wow, that’s amazing.’
‘And incredibly wasteful.’ Gregory hands me a glass of champagne and leads us out to the garden.
Flame lights and outdoor heaters are roaring, making the air feel like a summer’s night in paradise. Standing at the top of the steps, looking down across the lawn, we see Lara’s planning in full view. LED lights are twisted around the stair rails and sparkle in small trees that decorate every third step leading down to the lawn. Hundreds of people fill the grass. The cream pavilion is the focal point and hosts a big swing band. Dressed tables are scattered as far as I can see in the distance.
A lady I’d place in her fifties wearing a purple gown and covered in more black and clear diamonds than I’ve seen in the whole of Hatton Garden approaches us. ‘Gregory, darling, hi!’ She kisses him the continental way: one cheek then the other. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again. Your mother’s done a fantastic job, as ever!’
‘Claudia. Can I introduce you to Scarlett Heath?’
‘You certainly can. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
