Five to seven days. Then he could be hauled off in cuffs and tried for my crime.
‘What if… what if it goes to trial and we lose?’ I croak.
‘Scarlett, stop it.’
‘No, Gregory, you need to hear this. What’s the worst-case scenario, John?’
‘Life in prison.’
Despite already knowing the answer to my own question, I’m unable to prevent the erratic beat of my heart and the spinning in my head.
Gregory swallows so hard that I hear it. ‘That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen. Scarlett, listen to me. Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me.’
I do as he asks, slowly peeling my eyelids up, my pupils on fire.
‘That won’t happen,’ he says, taking my hand in his.
I nod twice. ‘Excuse me, I need the ladies’.’
‘Down the hall to the left, Scarlett,’ John chirps.
I can feel Gregory watching me as I make to leave the room, nausea making my head spin.
‘Now then, old boy, shall we talk figures? I charge by the hour.’
‘Let’s take 20 per cent off that, John, and call you my defence lawyer.’
‘Ten.’
‘Fifteen.’
‘And I’ll shake your hand there, Mr Ryans.’
At least that’s something, I think as the door closes behind me; KC John Harrison, the crème de la crème, is willing to stake his reputation on Gregory and our lies.
When I return to the room, the two most important men in my life are standing face to face.
‘I’m glad we understand each other,’ Gregory says.
John dips his head then turns to me. ‘Pleasure to see you again, Scarlett.’
‘And you, John, thank you.’
We shake hands then Gregory’s palm is on the small of my back, guiding me on a quick march back along the antique corridors to the Lamborghini. He opens the passenger door and closes it behind me once I’m seated. Then he climbs into the driver side, flicks the paddle gears and skids us out of the street at a dangerous speed.
He jabs his fingers at the touch screen in the centre of the dashboard and a dial-out tone fills the sound system, followed by Jackson’s voice. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Are you home?’ Gregory asks abruptly.
‘On my way back from seeing Sandy; Ken picked me up.’
‘We need to talk. I’ll be ten.’
‘See you then.’
I glance at Gregory’s stern face and decide it would be best if I stay quiet. Instead, I watch as we fly through Camden Borough, buildings fading into blurred lines of lights against the already darkening afternoon sky, back to the Southside of the Thames.
Jackson is waiting on a stool at the breakfast bar when we get to the apartment. Gregory takes off his coat and scarf and throws them over the back of another stool. ‘Let’s go to my office.’
