‘You heard Doctor Jefferson; there’s no chance he’s going to wake up today. There’s no sign of improvement.’
‘Which is just another reason why I shouldn’t go. How can I go out for dinner when my dad is half—’ I stop myself short of admitting that final word.
‘We’ve got to leave here sometime, Scarlett, and what else are you going to do except mope around the house?’
‘I’m not going.’
‘If your dad thought you weren’t living your life because of him, he’d be so cross with you.’
‘Sandy, I… It’s not just that.’
‘It’ll take your mind off all of this. It’s just dinner.’
The thought that dinner could lead to me feeling his touch, feeling his lips against my skin again, makes me crave everything about him. I know it would mean more to me than just dinner.
Sandy reaches a hand to my shoulder. ‘Trust your instincts.’
17
Jackson pulls up before I’ve even finished my hair. Half the curls are pinned loosely to the back of my head, the other half still hang impatiently around my shoulders. As I pin frantically, I consider the two dresses hanging on my wardrobe, both black, one tight fitting to the knee with a high neck and open back, the other with tiny straps and a loose gather at the chest, also with a drooping open back.
At least five minutes pass as I hurriedly finish my updo. Hearing the doorbell ring adds to the butterflies in my chest and the anxiety churning low in my abdomen.
Sandy opens the door and boisterously jokes with Jackson downstairs. By the time I’ve added the finishing touch to my make-up – poppy-red Clarins lipstick – and spritzed myself in Flower Bomb, another five minutes have passed. I take a pair of black tights from my drawer and sit on my bed but before they reach my knees, I pull them off and swap them for stockings. I opt for the thin-strap dress and slip my feet into an uncomfortable pair of black, calf-leather Jimmy Choos: possibly the most extravagant purchase of my life.
‘I’m so sorry, Jackson,’ I say, interrupting the surprisingly flirtatious conversation taking place in the hallway.
Both Jackson and Sandy turn sharply, as if they’ve been caught in the act. Sandy hands me my tailored, black winter coat and tells me to have fun as I pull the waist belt tight. I give her a cursory what-was-that? look before leaving the house.
‘I doubt Gregory will be thrilled with my timekeeping,’ I say to Jackson as he holds open the door to the empty back seat.
‘Somehow, I think you’ll be forgiven,’ Jackson says, buckling himself in.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
Jackson shrugs and chuckles. Something, or rather someone, seems to have put him in a peculiarly jovial mood.
Just before seven-thirty, we roll to a stop alongside a red carpet. My eyes trace gold railings from the pavement up to the theatre entrance. There, on the top step, Gregory is waiting, legs parted, shoulders back, hands tucked into the trouser pockets of his dinner suit, separating the tails of his jacket from the fastened button at the waist.
Jackson winks as he opens the door and gives me a hand out of the Mercedes.
I can’t take my eyes off Gregory. Everything else in the world disappears as I get lost in this perfect man.
He walks down the steps and kisses my cheek. His lips linger against my skin. The sensation exactly as I’ve replayed countless times in my head. I lean into his kiss, wishing I could feel his mouth on mine. When I open my eyes, he’s gazing right back at me. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers.
My insides defy the concept of gravity.
He traces one finger down the side of my face to my chin, never dropping his gaze from mine. I try to swallow my insatiable need to touch what lies beneath his suit, to have his naked body take over mine the way I’ve imagined. He gives me a half, knowing smile. I’m defenceless against my own desire.
‘Some completion meeting when we’re the only two people here, Mr Ryans.’
‘I thought you wouldn’t mind if we celebrate closing the deal alone tonight.’
‘Presumptuous,’ I tease, raising a brow.
‘Indeed,’ he says, his half-smile still arrogantly toying with me. Delicious. ‘Come on, you kept me waiting; the show’s about the start.’
