He leans back as two waiters simultaneously place a napkin in his lap and a bread roll on his side plate. ‘They’ve been together since I was ten.’
‘Ten! What’s next? Williams is your brother and your mum really owns Sea People International?’
Gregory glares at me then shakes his head. Lara thankfully interrupts as I mentally chastise myself for being too familiar and remind myself that I’m taking dinner with my client. Except, I’ve never sat next to a client and struggled to concentrate on my next move. I’ve never sat so close to a client and had to force my hands not to reach out and touch him. I’ve never had to squeeze my pulsing thighs shut beneath the dinner table because I’m thinking about how my client would feel inside me.
Lara leads the table in good-spirited conversation. It’s catching. Between that and the wine flowing, I start to relax. Playful jibes pass across the table between the men, including Gregory. It’s nice to see a small chink in his otherwise stoic armour.
‘A toast,’ Lara announces, holding up her glass. ‘To having my favourite men at one table. You all look dashingly handsome. And to the gorgeous ladies: it’s a pleasure to have you here. Scarlett, Amanda, welcome.’
We all stand to clink glasses.
‘For the record, Williams is not my brother,’ Gregory whispers to me. ‘But he is my oldest friend. He was my first friend when we moved to England.’
Gregory catches his oldest friend’s eye and subtly raises a glass to the air.
A waitress places a plate of foie gras, with the smallest amount of rocket salad and a slice of Melba toast, in front of me and my wine glass is topped up again.
‘As for my mother, she designs bags,’ he says, leaning into my ear. He pauses to sip his wine then continues, this time loud enough for his mother to hear. ‘She’s incredibly talented but she doesn’t have a particularly business-savvy mind.’
Lara fakes a shocked gasp. ‘You take that back, young man!’
He smiles. A true and shockingly handsome smile.
Another side to the CEO.
Amanda regales the table with tales of our time at university. I give her the playful warning eye but she knows which stories she can tell and where to draw the line. On more than one occasion, I find myself defending my uncoordinated dancing at formal dinners and unintentionally inappropriate comments to our professors.
What can I say, I liked the challenge.
‘You should see her bust out the moves to “Mr Brightside”.’ Amanda tells everyone.
I almost splutter my wine, laughing as I remember the moves and Amanda sings the lyrics.
‘Bruising your feet to The Killers is a right of passage,’ I say.
When I’m composed, I notice Gregory watching me intently, a look that resonates in all my sensitive spots. I take a punt. It could be disastrous. It certainly is inappropriate. I lean into his ear and pause to inhale his deadly musk before I speak. ‘Since we’re sharing tonight, I want to put you straight on something. Today, you referred to me as a girl who once read a textbook. You were right about corporate law but you were wrong to call me a girl.’
I linger there, at his neck, both to shield my blushes and to question my motives. I’m there long enough to hear his subtle hitch of breath.
After pudding, an enormous cheese board is placed in the middle of the table. I press both hands to the bones of my dress and confirm that I really can’t fit anything else beneath them. A waiter hands a decanter of port to Lawrence.
‘Pass the port!’ Lawrence announces. ‘The decanter doesn’t touch the table until it’s empty.’
When the port reaches me, I fill my glass and take a sip. ‘I really can’t eat or drink anything else,’ I whisper to Gregory. ‘Perhaps get me a size up next time?’
‘Next time?’ he grins, raising one eyebrow.
I narrow my eyes on him. In response, he shuffles, straightens his trousers and leans back in his seat. His leg rests against mine, his heat searing through both our garments. I’m acutely aware of each curve of my body. Alcohol is making me confident… or stupid. I press back against him with my thigh and watch his seemingly impassive face. My arm moves before my mind can think to stop it, bringing my hand to rest on his thigh beneath the table. His lips part and he seems to pause momentarily before he puts his fingers gently on the nape of my neck and slowly traces my vertebrae down my back. My eyelids feel like steel as I melt into his touch.
‘Gregory, would you treat your mum to a dance to her favourite song?’ Lara asks.
We each snap our hands away from the other. He half-smiles at me, then stands, taking his mother’s hand in his and leading her to the dance floor. Closing my eyes and inhale deeply.
Amanda whisks Williams away to dance to the Rat Pack tribute band, leaving Lawrence to ask me to partner. I, of course, oblige. I’m impressed by his slightly offbeat but nimble dancing. His pace is similar to my dad’s. They both seemingly have one set tempo counting in their mind as they move, ignorant to the rhythm of the music. I fall relatively easily into Lawrence’s mistimed steps and we move in stagnated circles.
‘Is this awkward for you?’ I ask.
‘Why? Should it be?’
