‘Okay.’
A knock on the driver-side window propels me back to planet normal. Gregory snarls but his expression lightens when he turns to see the face at the window. She looks like Williams, just a very attractive, female version. Gregory unhooks my seatbelt, then his own. As soon as his feet hit the gravel, Charlotte wraps her arms around his neck. He hugs her back, a rare display of emotion. ‘This is Scarlett,’ he says, taking my hand and encouraging me to his side.
‘Hi, Charlotte. It’s nice to meet you.’
She throws herself forward and plants a kiss on my cheek, startling me but making me smile, part uncomfortably, part because I like her immediately.
‘Would you calm down?’ Williams says. ‘Forgive my little sister; she doesn’t get out much.’ He leans forward to kiss my cheek. Then takes Gregory’s hand in a firm shake. ‘How was China?’
Gregory nods brusquely, his CEO persona in full swing. ‘The deal is on.’
We’re joined by a young man inPride and Prejudicestyle get-up. He takes our bags on the shake of a hand from Gregory, no doubt accepting a note, and heads through the courtyard into the palatial home.
‘Mr Ryans, we’re up here.’ The voice belongs to Kian, one of the attendants from Gregory’s farmhouse-cum-mansion in Surrey, his luxurious property outside the city, complete with land, dogs, staff and a triple garage full of motorbikes. My mind drifts to a memory of him kitted out in leathers and the feel of my legs wrapped around his lean hips as we burnt up the country roads around the farm. ‘How was your drive, sir?’
‘Not bad, Kian. How does he look?’
We climb the incline to where a string of horse boxes and four-wheel drives are lined up along a dirt track, and men in various stages of undress are hopping into jodhpurs and black blazers.
‘He’s looking really good, sir. I’ve had him out every day this week. He’s ready for the season.’
We wait to one side whilst Kian retrieves the grand, shining, black horse from the box labelledGJR. Gregory moves straight to the horse, stroking the length of its mane, then its back. ‘Good work, Kian. He looks great.’
‘He’s riding well too, sir.’
‘All right, saddle him up.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Gregory glides his hands down my shoulders, his palms coming to rest in mine. ‘I need to say hello to a few people. Why don’t you go down to the breakfast room? Charlotte will be there. The hunt starts just to the right of the last horse box there. Come up and see us off, then you can do whatever: look around the house, take a walk. If you get fed up, you can always go back to our room. The reception is in the courtyard. They’ll help you.’
‘Mr Ryans, you’re stressing unnecessarily. I’m a big girl; I’ll be fine for… how long will you be?’
He shrugs. ‘A few hours, maybe. We’ll head back early afternoon before it gets too dark. They’ll announce in the house when we’re on our way. The ladies tend to watch us back in.’
‘Soundsverypretentious.’
‘It isverypretentious, but these men are money: private equity, hedge funds. Sometimes, it pays to play their games.’
I nod, understanding completely that this is business more than pleasure.
He plants a kiss on my brow. ‘Have I told you how good your arse looks in these trousers?’
I smile. ‘You just did.’
He turns me by my shoulders and points me in the direction of the breakfast room, slapping my bottom as I walk and receiving an over-shoulder scowl in response.
The large, wooden door is held open for me by another young man in period dress: a thigh-length waistcoat, baggy, knee-length trousers with pulled-up socks and a frilly cravat. The dining room really is something special. The ceilings are high and adorned in intricate architecture. Four very grand,gold and crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling above the white-clothed tables. The impressive, arched windows on two walls flood the room with bright light.
‘Scarlett, over here!’ Charlotte jumps up from her seat at a table with six women who all look like they’ve been dressed by Julia and Lucas. Her dark-blonde waves bounce on her broad but slim shoulders. She really is striking in that kind of edgy, model way.
‘Ladies, this is Scarlett,’ Charlotte announces as I take a seat at the table. ‘She’s with Gregory.’
I glance around the table, smiling as I say hello. I recognise one of the women: scorned Stella from Lara’s party last week.This should be fun.Her dyed, blonde hair is swept up in a French roll and clip, her natural, tight curls spraying out at the top. She takes a purposeful sip of champagne, eyeing me as she does, then places her lipstick-stained glass next to her Eggs Royale.
‘Nice to see you again, Stella.’ Even though it really isn’t. Five minutes in this woman’s company on Saturday was enough for a lifetime.
She sits taller in her chair, her back perfectly straight. ‘Two events in one week; there’s a first.’
