‘What happens now?’ I ask.
‘Now it’s brandy and cigars to debrief.’
My face contorts at the thought. ‘Is there an alternative option? Brandy isn’t my favourite.’
‘No, baby, it’s just the men.’
‘Oh. So I get to hang out with all the women who want to fuck you again?’
‘Is there any need for the French?’
‘I just like our bubble. Breakfast was horrible, Gregory; they looked at me like I have ten heads and it’s clear all those women want you. I know I sound petulant but?—’
He halts us and turns me to face him but I’d rather look at my new Hunter wellies. ‘Look at me.’
I continue to look at my feet.
‘Look at me,please.’
I lift my head.
‘I’m here withyou. Only you.’
My eyes find the floor again. ‘I know, it’s just?—’
‘No just. I’m yours. Only yours.’ He lifts my chin with his index finger the way he does, forcing me to look at him. ‘Yours.’ He plants his lips on mine, a long, lingering, worry-forgetting kiss.
Does he tell me he loves me in these moments? Is that what he’s saying?
10
My gown has already been taken out of the dress bag and hung up in the wardrobe. I rummage through the leather weekend bag that Gregory said we could share. I find his Bluetooth speakers and place them on the bedside cabinet, pairing them to my phone and putting my song list on shuffle.
The monsoon shower is so good, I have to drag myself out. I wrap myself in my kimono and rough-dry my hair before taking sections and blow-drying it straight, securing one side over my shoulder with a crystal and pearl comb. I’m almost done with my make-up when I hear the bedroom door close.
Gregory’s eyes have a brandy sheen when he appears at the door to the bathroom but he doesn’t seem drunk or even tipsy. He runs his attention from my head to my toes and his brandy sheen is replaced with desire. If I hold his stare, I’ll relent. I look instead at the object he holds in his hand.
‘What’s that?’
He holds it up. ‘It’s tradition. It represents the fox’s tail.’
‘Oh, of course, silly me. I should’ve been able to see that from the bunch of black feathers on a stick.’
He grins roguishly and moves towards me. He casts the feathers aside and grabs my arse cheeks, pulling my hips into his.
‘No, Gregory. You’ll ruin my make-up.’
He lifts my legs around his waist and sits me onto the marble unit. ‘But I can kiss you here,’ he says, drawing my kimono over my shoulders and taking my nipple in his mouth. ‘Don’t fight me, Scarlett; I’ve wanted to be inside you all day.’
‘No, Gregory. I know where this leads and that’s me having to redo my hair and make-up which I don’t have time to do before dinner.’
He lifts his head, staring at me, his cogs in overdrive. ‘So I can’t put my lips on you and I can’t touch your hair?’
My goddamn body is going to betray me and tell him to do whatever the hell he wants in whatever way he wants. I keep my lips firmly pressed shut and shake my head.
His brows furrow, then that roguish grin is back. He pulls me forward, my legs reflexively gripping his toned hips, and fixes those devastating browns on me, walking us to the bedroom. I give in. I move to drop my mouth to his but he pulls away.
‘Your rules, Scarlett.’
