My hand reflexively covers my mouth and I swallow bile.
‘Jackson picked it up. He was on his way to see Sandy; that’s how they ended up at the hospital together,’ he says, turning to look at me. ‘He tried to call me but I didn’t pick up his message until I was outside the hospital.’
Anger stirs within me. ‘You should have told me.’
‘I didn’t think it would?—’
‘No. You should have told me.’
‘I’m sorry, Scarlett. You’ll never know how sorry I am. I wish I could take it back. All of it. Even if it meant I had to live my life never having met you and never having felt— I wish I could go back to the boardroom and not be desp?—’
‘Shh,’ I say, placing one finger over his lips. ‘I’m not sorry that I met you.’
I don’t know at what stage my feelings changed; I don’t remember thinking it wasn’t his fault. But I believe it.
‘Gregory, don’t you think it’s time the police were involved?’
He regards me with troubled browns. ‘The police can’t be involved.’
‘Because you don’t think there’s any real evidence.’
‘No, Scarlett. Because when Jackson and I find him, we won’t be staying on the right side of the law.’
His statement should shock me. I’ve never been on the wrong side of the law. But the first thing I feel is vengeance. Pearson deserves to pay for what he did.
‘That’s enough for tonight,’ I whisper.
He nods and looks back out across the city.
I rest my hand into his. ‘Let’s go to bed.’
He considers me from beneath a furrowed brow.
‘It’s okay.’
I shuffle in the bed to nestle my head into his firm chest and he wraps a strong, warm arm around my shoulders.
I close my eyes and finally drift into a deep, settled sleep.
27
I’ve been watching him for some time, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. He’s perfect. His angular jaw and straight nose are a peculiar contrast against his soft, red lips. His dark features – brows, eyes and hair – are fiercely attractive. Everything about him embodies masculinity. I run a finger along the line of his collarbone and lean in to place my lips on his neck.
‘You’re awake,’ he mumbles.
‘Yes.’
He opens one eye to look at me and that familiar, soul-melting half-smile draws on his lips.
‘Are you watching me?’
‘Yes. You were drooling,’ I lie.
He quickly wipes his face with the back of his hand, forcing me to chuckle.
‘I love that sound.’
His expression turns playfully stern and he lunges for me in the bed. I squeal when he pulls me onto his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around my back, forcing me to surrender.
