I’ve never craved sex, never ached with the need to have a man inside me. Until now.
Staring at the reflection of the restaurant in the floor-to-ceiling window, I wonder if the other guests could see that kiss. I wonder if they think Gregory Ryans is mine. The restaurant is busy, each table full of finely dressed diners in twos, fours and sixes. Everyone looks happy, conversations flow, animated hand gestures dance and laughing heads are thrown back but no words are decipherable. Candlelight flickers in the window and wait staff float between tables carrying white plates of various sizes, wine buckets, champagne and bread rolls. Soft jazz notes play in the background, well suited to the dimmed, purple lighting and cloths, I think. I look to my already empty starter plate, then at Gregory’s. We’ve both eaten like we were Oliver Twist and there was definitely no opportunity for more. We laugh at the already empty plates. It’s a short release, pent up. Once our dishes are taken, Gregory removes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves two turns. They move further up his smooth, tanned skin as he reaches for his glass and I notice three small imperfections on this otherwise aesthetically flawless man. With a troubled expression, he watches me across the rim of his wine glass.
‘They’re cigarette burns,’ he says.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. Did he do this to you?’
Gregory doesn’t respond but the tightening of his jaw tells me the answer.
‘Have you ever really hated anyone, Scarlett? I mean hated someone so much that the thought of what you could do to them scares you because no matter how bad it might be, you just don’t care?’
‘I thought I did.’
‘You thought you did?’
I feel my brows furrow. It’s something I’ve never admitted before but Gregory seems to have an ability to draw out sides of me that I didn’t know were buried. ‘My mother left my dad when I was a child. The first time I realised she wasn’t coming back, I wanted to, I don’t know, hurt her maybe, the way she hurt Dad.’
‘And you don’t feel like that any more?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve grown up, moved on, and I guess she’s become a smaller part of my life. I still feel angry when I think of my dad alone. He should have someone. He shouldn’t be going through this illness by himself.’
‘He’s got you.’
‘He has. He has me and he has Sandy but it can’t be the same for him. He hasn’t really been with anyone since my mother, that I know of. I think everyone deserves to love and be loved in return, don’t you?’
He stares at me but doesn’t respond. It’s the kind of look I want to box and keep forever.
‘You know, Scarlett, I would have understood if you hadn’t wanted to come here tonight. For many reasons. Your dad being one.’
‘I thought about not coming but I’m glad I did. Since I’ve been with you, I’ve forgotten everything else for a while. I like that you can take me out of my head, if only temporarily.’
‘That’s a feeling I understand.’
A waiter places a main course of steamed fish dressed with scallops and langoustine in front of us. Gregory glances from his plate to me and back to his plate.
‘It smells delicious,’ I say.
‘It does,’ he says without picking up his knife and fork.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ I ask.
‘Starving.’
Everything south of my waistline pulses in response to him. I can see him consider moving closer to me but he hesitates, looking questioningly at my untouched plate of food. I inch it away from me with the tips of my fingers.
‘I’ve lost my appetite for food,’ I whisper.
Amerigo is at our table in seconds.
‘Charge my account,’ Gregory says.
Jackson is waiting outside but doesn’t step out of the car.
‘How does he always know what you’re doing?’ I croak through my dry throat.
Gregory smiles, a delectable half-curl of his lips. He reaches to open the door to the back of the Mercedes and I press my hand over his, keeping the door closed.
‘Look,’ I say, pointing to the clear, starlit sky. ‘It’s so rare there’s a night like this in the city.’
