‘Why?’ My tone is petulant but I can’t help it. ‘So you can follow me?’
‘I won’t be following you, Scarlett.’
‘Ha, so you’ll have Jackson follow me.’
He squeezes the flannel against my chest and drops a kiss to my temple, my temper instantly dampened.
‘Actually, no. Jackson is taking Sandy out tonight for a special dinner.’
‘Aspecialdinner?’ My head fights against his palm, trying to catch him smirking. ‘Let me see you. Whatspecialdinner? Oh my gosh, he’s not going to… You don’t think…?’
He shrugs against my back, still keeping my head faced towards the bottom of the bath.
‘Damn you, Gregory Ryans, tell me!’ I wiggle my feet in tantrum, splashing water over the edge of the tub.
His chest jerks against my back as he laughs. ‘I can’t; it’s a secret.’
‘Oh bugger off, Gregory!’
I stomp out of the bath as he throws his head back, laughing.
‘And I won’t tell you where I’m going tonight and Iwillget drunk!’
‘You won’t need to tell me where you’re going, angel; I’ll find out when I drop you off.’
Snatching my towel from the floor, I stalk out of the bathroom, internally screaming at myoh-so-bloody-humorousbillionaire.
17
The last proper night out I had, as in not after work and not rushing home to look after my dad, was far too long ago, which is obvious given the show I make of getting ready. From the appointment with the beauty salon to smarten up my waxing, washing and creaming my skin, giving all twenty nails a base coat, three colour coats and a top coat, and blow-drying my hair into a mousse-induced, high-volume do, I manage to fill the day.
‘You’re going to be late.’ Gregory appears, leaning against the doorframe of the walk-in wardrobe, watching me flick through my dresses in a fluster.
‘So now you do want me to go out.’
‘No. I’m making conversation so that I can enjoy the view.’
Looking down at my black, lace thong and matching bra, I bite my lip to stop my grin from giving me away. I’m still feigning my earlier mood. I shouldn’t have to be the one to apologise.
‘Smart Guy’s a conversationalist now?’
‘Shh, your mouthful of attitude is ruining my moment.’
I select a black, fitted dress with spaghetti straps that’s probably a little too short. In fact, I’ve only ever worn it oncebecauseit’s so short but Amanda convinced me to spend too much money on it during a dry martini-fuelled shopping trip and given ithasbeen a long time, I should make the effort. I bend forward, fully aware of the lace thong slipping between my cheeks, and rummage through shoe boxes, knowing too well where the strap shoes are that I’m looking for but enjoying the torture I’m inflicting on Mr Unreasonable.
‘Keep going, Miss Heath. Please keep going and give me a reason to come over there and spank that arse until you’d rather scream my name than go out.’
I’d always rather do that but now isn’t the time to flatter his ego.
With purpose, I slip my feet into my heels and buckle the thin straps at my ankles, then slide the tight dress down over my breasts, wiggling my hips as I pull it down to my thighs.
‘Are you planning on coming to bed with me?’ he asks.
I flash him a dirty scowl.
‘Right. Fine. Then you can take that negligee off right now.’
‘Excuse me?’ My hands move to my hips for maximum effect.
