‘Even more reason for a little business networking, wouldn’t you say?’
‘No, let’s go. We were going for food anyway. Let’s leave before they see us.’
I pick up her bag and pass it to her but she’s already off her stool and walking towards Williams.
‘Amanda!’ I snap but it’s lost in the open space.
‘Hi, I’m Amanda.’ I hear in the distance.
Oh God.
I make a move to stand then sit back down. I reach for my handbag then leave it where it is. I don’t want to look but my eyes defy me, lured like metal to his magnet. As if he felt my eyes burning into him, he’s staring back at me with those devastatingly dark pools.
No getting out of it now.
As I walk towards the three of them, he never takes his eyes off me. I instantly regret my choice of slightly too-tight-fitting dress and probably too-high shoes this morning. I imagine he’s scrutinising every inch of me that’s out of place, whilst he looks immaculate. I’d feel no more exposed if I were naked in the crowded room. I wonder if he can see the tired, emotional wreck I am behind my cover of his legal advisor. I wonder if he can see how nervous he makes me. How nervous he’s making me right now.
As I watching the protruding veins of his neck move with his swallow, I attempt to compose myself as I hold out my feebly trembling hand for him to shake. I manage a weak smile but no words leave my dry throat. He takes my hand as I watch his mouth greet me. His touch sends my irrational hormones into a frenzy.
‘Miss Heath,’ Williams interjects. A welcome distraction, an escape from the spell of Gregory Ryans, and a chance for the ache in my sex to dissipate.
‘Mr Williams, it’s a pleasure to see you. You’ve already met my friend, Amanda.’
‘And colleague,’ Amanda jumps in. ‘I’m a lawyer too.’
Williams smiles politely whilst Amanda beams at him, flashing her best come-get-me pout and adjusting her body slightly, pushing her arse and tits further out. Without turning in his direction, I can feel that Gregory has not stopped staring at me.
Williams continues to indulge Amanda in flirtatious conversation and Amanda less than subtly shuffles until I’m presented with her back.
‘So, what brings you here tonight, Mr Ryans? I mean, do you come here often? Not that you shouldn’t, or should. It’s up to you where you go,’ I stutter as my cheeks flame.
He sniggers at me but returns the most delectable half-smile, half-smirk I’ve ever seen. The kind that travels straight to my vagina before taking me to dinner. He places his hands in his jean pockets and slightly flexes his hips towards me. Despite all the will in the world, I’m unable to stop my gaze from dropping to his crotch.
I rub the butt of my hand against my brow and search the floor. For something. Anything.
‘Well, it was a pleasure to see you, gents,’ I say, loud enough for Williams to hear over Amanda’s chatter. ‘I hope you have a nice evening; we’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves.’
‘Where are you going?’ Williams asks. Seemingly, Amanda has already caught his attention.
‘Yes, Scarlett, where are we going?’ Amanda asks, engrossed in Williams’ reaction.
‘For food. We were just talking about food, remember?’
‘So were we,’ Williams jumps in, eyeing Gregory as he speaks. As is their way, they have an unspoken exchange.
‘But you just got here,’ Amanda says.
‘We were only going to have one drink then go for food. Unless you have other plans, we could all eat together?’ Williams suggests.
‘Yes, and no, we don’t,’ Amanda replies, almost in a shrill with excitement. ‘I’m starving.’
Now she’s hungry?
I’m suddenly remarkably sober and Amanda is suddenly remarkably drunk, more on Williams than alcohol, I think. This has gone badly wrong. I can’t possibly refuse to have dinner with a client. Likewise, I can’t possibly have dinner with this particular client. How can I spend any longer in the company of Gregory Ryans without my raging libido combusting?
‘Sure. That’s a great idea. Erm, if that works for you too, Mr Ryans?’ I will him to object and save me from myself.
‘I’ll go on the condition that you call me Gregory from now on,’ he says, leaning into me as he speaks, his big hands still resting in his jean pockets. ‘On social occasions, at least.’
