‘Boeuf bourguignon?’
I nod faintly.
Dressed in a short, teal nightdress and matching silk kimono, I find Gregory downstairs dishing out boeuf bourguignon and wild rice, wearing a pair of black lounge pants,onlyblack lounge pants, bare-chested and truly tantalising.
He lifts me onto his lap on a stool and we eat like that, wrapped in each other. When we’re done, I rinse our plates and stack them in the dishwasher.
‘I need to work for a while, angel.’ He’s apologetic but I recognise that I’ve had him to myself almost all day and I bet he hasn’t had a day off work for a very long time, if ever. ‘I’ll work here, on the sofa.’
‘Okay. I’ll readThe Count.’
He takes the middle of the sofa facing the lights of the city set against the dark sky and pats the corner for me to sit. As I slide down the leather arm, he lifts my thighs across his legs. Isnuggle into his arm and start readingThe Count of Monte Cristofor probably the tenth time in as many years. He dims the lights with a remote control to a cosy level where we can both still read with ease, and grabs his laptop. I sneak glances at him, watching his stoic business face and the occasional twitch of the muscle in his neck as he concentrates. Sometimes, he catches me and flicks his eyes to my book, telling me to read. I giggle each time and start reading again. It takes me over an hour to get through the first chapter. Being so close to his naked skin is more than a little distracting.
With a sigh, he leans forward and sets his closed laptop on the floor. ‘Read to me.’
He lifts me to my feet then lies down, his spine against the back of the sofa. He pats the cushion resting on his forearm, and I climb back onto the sofa in front of him, pressing my back into his chest and my feet between his warm legs.
I read to him. I read until his head falls into my neck and his breathing slows. Then I carefully lean forward and drop the book to the floor. I hit the off button on the remote control and nestle against him.
‘I love you.’ I know he can’t hear me but I whisper just in case. If he can’t hear me, it can’t tear another piece of my heart when he doesn’t say it back.
14
I take the spare bagel that Amy has wrapped in tinfoil for me and pop it into my tote, then tie my coat over my red dress and slip my feet into heels.
Gregory’s in full business mode, his manner brash as he speaks into his phone. Laid-back Gregory may be gone but the plus side is that I get to see him in my favourite blue suit. I watch his lean frame move down the stairs, everything about him refined, from his perfectly moulded hair to his polished shoes.
‘Update me at ten and not a minute later.’ He disconnects and drops the device into his inside pocket. ‘Ready?’
I follow him to the lift, calling goodbye to Amy, trying not to think about tearing that suit off him. He folds one arm across his chest and moves his opposite hand to his chin. The lift suddenly feels small and I’m hot. I exhale and tap my foot. Then I’m flung back against the wall, my hands above my head, and attacked by his mouth as he grinds his hips against my stomach. He’s hard.
When the lift pings, we both dart upright. I step onto themarble floor with a wobble and Gregory turns back to adjust himself in his trousers. I smirk as he strides to my side. We dip our heads to the concierge and step onto the street.
‘Jackson!’ I call excitedly. He’s out of the car and holding open the door to the back of the Mercedes. Gregory’s lips curl slightly as he walks around to the other side of the car and climbs into the back seat. Jackson knows just how Gregory likes things to be done.
‘Good morning, Scarlett.’ Jackson beams at me as I climb into the car with him holding his hand on the rim of the doorframe in case I should bump my head.
‘Nice to have you back.’
‘It’s nice to see you’ve finally accepted being chauffeured.’
Gregory is back on his phone but rests one hand on top of mine in the middle of the seat as we cross to the north side of the Thames. I could fool myself into thinking this is a normal day.
I deposit the still-warm, spare bagel with Paul on my way into the office. He looks grey and cold this morning but he’s as polite as ever.
My phone rings as I’m walking the corridor towards my office and as I’m midway through taking off my coat. Fumbling to do two things at once, I manage to answer.
‘Mr Ryans, what can I do for you?’
‘Are you stealing food from me to feed the homeless?’
‘Erm, it was only a bagel. I thought?—’
‘Two things. First, you need to be careful. Do you know that man?’
‘It’s, he’s Paul. He’s sweet. He’s always outside the office block.’
‘Regardless, you need to be careful, Scarlett. He has nothing.’
