‘What did I have last night?’
‘Dirty last night, dry the night before that, dirty the night before that, dry the night be?—’
‘Okay, I get the point. Dry then, please.’
‘Sure thing.’ He moves down the bar, pulling a bottle of Tanqueray and a bottle of vermouth from the mirrored wall. ‘My finest,’ he says when he places the cocktail on a black napkin in front of me. He plants his hands on the bar, waiting for me to taste test.
‘Fine,’ I say with a smirk as the first sip travels straight to my head.
‘You’re a tough woman.’
‘Thanks. So, what about you? Tax or heartbreak?’ He flashes me a look that says he’s not giving me an answer, so I change course. ‘What’s your real name?’
‘Why do you keep asking me that?’
‘Because I don’t believe you’re really called Paddy. Too stereotypical.’
He laughs and moves off to serve.
I sip my dry martini as the curtain rises on the opening scene ofChicago.
This is the most dangerous time of my day. It’s the time, without fail, that my mind finds Gregory and the pain comes back: my stomach, my chest, my head. It’s when I think about how lost I am, how nothing makes sense without him.
I miss everything about him.Allhis personalities and quirks. The way he would pull the cuffs of his shirt slightly lower than the edge of his suit jacket. That stance. His hips flexed slightly forward so his strong calves pull the material of his trousers taut. His shoulders back, tall and broad. That half-smile. God, he could liquefy me with that half-smile. The way his hair feels like silk through my fingers when we’re making love.
I stroke my lips where I wish I could feel his soft skin again. The familiar lump is building in my throat. I swallow it away with a sip of dry martini. He could drive me wild with just a single touch. And his scent. Rich, fresh. I close my eyes, remembering.
The stage darkens and a spotlight shines on the actress playing Roxie as the band strikes up ‘Cell Block Tango’.Her soft, blonde bob bounces and her innocence disappears as she sings, ‘He had it coming.’ There’s a sinister edge to her stage voice.He only had himself to blame.She’s captivating. It’s not enough to distract me from my thoughts.
What I crave more than anything is the feeling of completeness. I never realised I needed something else in my life. I don’t think I did, anyway. Not until I met Gregory and, maybe for the first time, felt awake, alive, truly alive. Being near him was an adrenalin rush. Blood pumped in my veins, the way it does now. Just thinking about him raises my heart rate and sparks something low in my abdomen.
I knew he was flawed. I just didn’t think he was… Well, I guess I just didn’t think. I lost all reason with him. I became a different version of me, a Scarlett Heath who operated in the grey. I struggled to move away from right and wrong, the black and white I’d always known and clung to. I’ve had five weeks to realise that I prefer that version of myself. I prefer the grey. I prefer who I am when I’m with him.
Confident. Womanly.Sexy.
Our relationship was a mess, doomed from the beginning. We didn’t do anything in the conventional way. The takeover. My dad. Murder.
‘Scarlett.’
I jump as Paddy’s voice brings me back to real time. ‘Yes?’
‘Here.’ He slides a dry martini next to the one I’m currently drinking. ‘From table fourteen.’
‘Thanks but I don’t accept drinks from strangers.’
‘That’s what I told her.’
‘Her? That’s new.’
‘She told me to tell you it’s from Trina.’
I try to locate the name, then the face in my mind. ‘Trina. Katrina Martin?’
Paddy shrugs.
‘It’s nice to see you again, Scarlett Heath.’
She’s standing over my left shoulder. Her ill-fitting black suit and scuffed leather flats have been replaced with linen trousers and royal-blue deck shoes. The belt that would normally host her police badge has been switched with a dark-brown buckled belt that’s too big and chunky for the delicate fabric of her trousers.
