‘I’ll leave you to it,’ I say, realising as I carry my documents out of the boardroom that my legs have the strength of sponge.
After bringing myself back to life with splashes of cold water in the ladies’, I make my way to Gregory’s office. His chair isturned to face the bustle of London, marred by low-hanging clouds.
‘Hi,’ I say, making my way to him.
He rotates his chair a little to watch me, his hand wrapped around a glass half-filled with what looks like Scotch.
‘It’s the middle of the day.’
He holds his glass up, swilling the contents. ‘Join me?’
‘Actually, yes.’ I offload my documents to his desk, separating the signed letter of resignation from the pile, as he brings me a crystal glass filled with the orange-brown liquid.
He resumes his position, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window, and pats his leg. ‘Get here.’
I should go back to my office but as it’shiswork I need to finish, I guess he just trumped his own instructions. I climb happily onto his lap, leaning into his chest, and sip my Scotch, letting the fluid heat the back of my throat. This is a most unlike Gregory thing to do at work and massively inappropriate of me but his hot breath on my neck quashes my rational thoughts. He nibbles the skin, then my lobe, and I hum my contentment.
‘Another rough day,’ he says.
He draws my chin to face him with his Scotch-free hand. Pulling my waist tighter, his mouth meets mine. It’s a triumphant kiss. We’ve fended off another attack. But our war against Gregory’s demons is far from over.
‘Sorry, I’ll come back.’ Williams halts midway between the door and Gregory’s desk.
‘Oh, gosh, no, I’ll go.’ I make to leave Gregory’s lap but he holds me to him as I wriggle uncomfortably.
‘Neither of you need to go.’
Williams brings a drink and sits on Gregory’s desk next to us, his long legs crossed at the ankles. He drops a hand to his friend’s shoulder, then sips his Scotch. We look out over theRiver Thames in silence for the time it takes us to finish our drinks.
‘I need to go,’ I eventually admit to myself on a sigh. ‘I have a slave-driving client who needs a document for his meeting first thing.’ It suddenly hits me that Gregory is leaving for China tomorrow morning.
I don’t know how to cope with everything that’s going on without him.
Gregory tugs on my waist as I try to stand, then casts a glance at his friend.
‘I need to get on,’ Williams says. ‘Thanks for today, Scarlett.’
Turning as much as I can in Gregory’s tight hold, I waft a hand in the air. ‘It’s my job.’
‘Come home and work,’ Gregory whispers into my neck. ‘I don’t want to be without you tonight.’
I drop my head back, exposing my throat. ‘Hmm, as tempting as that sounds, I’ll get much more done in the office.’
‘What if I promise not to talk to you until you’re done?’ He parts his lips as he sucks on my skin.
‘Hey, don’t mark me,’ I say, wriggling from his touch, feeling cold at the loss of contact.
‘I’ll mark you if I want to.’ He presses his lips to my neck again. ‘It just so happens that I don’t want to today.’ I don’t need to see him to know he’s grinning against my flesh. ‘Come home, please.’
Pressing my lips against his, I nod my agreement, not wanting to break our contact.
‘Do you have everything you need?’ he asks, lifting me to my feet.
‘Yes, I’ve got my laptop.’
After punching two buttons on his phone and declaring, ‘We’re ready,’ we’re leaving the office, side by side, business personas firmly rooted in place.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about Sydney?’ I ask when we’re in the back of the Mercedes with Kenneth weaving us in and out of the London traffic. I want to know why he’s even considering keeping her at the company when he seems ruthless in every other aspect of his business life. Admittedly, he did sort of offer Tim and Jean-Paul an olive branch but I suspect that’s because they do a good job of managing Constant Sources.
