And I find him. He’s here. Leaning on one forearm, sipping from a glass that I know is filled with Scotch, as if the world isn’t spinning on its axis faster than Louis Hamilton laps Silverstone. His white shirt is rolled up to his elbows, three buttons open at the top. His muscles flexed beneath the silk. With one leg bent and resting on the low rail around the bottom of the bar, his cream chinos are pulled tight across his firm arse.
And those intense brown eyes lock onto mine, making the spinning stop. Making the world still and the room fade to nothing around us.
God, I love him.
‘I take it you’re good with Pol Rodger?’
‘Hmm?’
‘The Pol Rodger?’
I drag my attention from Gregory to Paddy and process his words. ‘Yes. Sure. Fine.’
‘And I take it that’s your heartbreaker.’
I don’t know whether I shake my head or nod or do neither. Paddy moves away as the most mesmerising man I’ve ever met walks towards me.
I’m looking up through my lashes as he reaches my table.
‘Scarlett.’ I’d forgotten how my names rolls off his tongue, smooth as velvet.
I subtly drag air into my lungs, holding his stare. I won’t blink first. ‘Gregory.’
‘You look tired,’ he says, finally breaking eye contact, giving me permission to close my lids.
‘You flew five thousand miles to insult me?’
He sweeps up my champagne flute and sips. I watch his throat as he swallows the bubbles and my own lips part.
‘Actually, it’s more like three and a half thousand,’ he says, placing the flute down on the table and sliding it my way. ‘And no. I flew here because I don’t care to be called ason of a bitch.’
I scoff. Seems like he’s one millionth as pissed at me as I am with him. ‘That’s right. You don’t like the truth, Gregory, do you?’
The faintest sign of a smug-as-hell smirk rises on his tantalising mouth that I suddenly remember can do the filthiest of things to me. ‘It’s funny you should mention that because the truth is one thing I came here to address.’
‘That would be a first.’ My words are much more confident than I feel. He’s rugby-tackled me sideways, but I sit back into my seat and cross one leg over, sipping my Pol Rodger.
His brows furrow and he pouts.God, I want to bite his lips.‘The other thing I came to address is that goddamn attitude of yours.’
I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor, cutting through the ambience of the bar with something distinctly less favourable.
‘Thanks for the champagne, Gregory, but you’re wasting your time if you think I’d believe a word you say.’
Strutting past him, I make it out of the bar to the landing. Thumping the lift button, I glance nervously between the exit and four lifts. ‘Come on,’ I say whisper, foot bouncing, arms folded.
‘Don’t walk away from me, Scarlett.’ His presence makes every last hair on my body stand on end, my nervous system attuned to him. ‘I came here to set you straight on a few things and you’re going to listen to what I’ve got to say.’
I squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t see but I sense that he’s moving closer to me.
I can’t let him see me breaking on the outside even though I’m shattering on the inside.
The pain I’ve tried to kill since leaving London has come crashing back and it’s striking me in the gut, crippling my body.
‘Leave me alone, Gregory.’
He’s next to me now. Too close. I can smell his fresh, rich scent. Feel his heat.
‘I will, once you’ve heard what I have to say.’
