He draws his fingers gently down the side of my face and tucks my sea and wind messed locks behind my ear in that way he does. ‘I love seeing you happy.’
‘Tha’s very fortunate, Ryans, ’cause you make me es’tremely happy.’
‘God, I love you, Scarlett.’
His hand moves to my nape and pulls my mouth against his. Like there’s no one else in the world, he scoops me up, my legs locking around his waist, my fingers gripping his hair.
‘All right, all right, Jesus, you two!’ Amanda shouts. ‘Put her down.’
‘She’s horny because Williams won’t fuck her,’ I whisper against Gregory’s lips. ‘Says he’ll hurt the baby.’
‘Not my fucking problem. You need a shower before dinner.’
I mumble my agreement and let him carry me below deck.
14
I wake with a start. I’ve been dreaming and have a lingering sense of emptiness but I can’t piece together the story. Reaching out for my comfort blanket, I find sheets and mattress but no Gregory. The clock on the bedside cabinet tells me it’s four fifty-five in the morning. I pull on a short, silk nightdress and go in search of Gregory.
His nightmares are less frequent now but they still have a realness that makes him restless in bed, sometimes yelling out. They still make him retreat and put up his walls.
The yacht must have docked at a new port whilst we were sleeping. We’re tied up at the back of the harbour, the spot closest to the ocean. The bay is full of smaller boats and flanked on either side by cliffs. Moonlight bounces off the gently rocking waves. A new place, in darkness, silence, stillness. It could be beautiful but it fills me with an eerie sense of apprehension.
I find him on the main deck, resting on the boat’s safety rail. His body is almost silhouetted in the night as he drags one hand back through his untamed bed hair. I think it must have been a bad nightmare but then he speaks, his words short and sharp.
‘Give them more. Everyone has a price, Sydney. We’ve got until twelve your time before they run the story. It’s already after nine. Put the money to them now. If they don’t accept it, ask what it’ll take. One way or another, this is not going to print. Call me back.’ As if he senses me, he hangs up on his head of PR. ‘Go back to bed, baby.’
‘You said you’d paid them off.’
‘I never said that. You assumed that.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me they wouldn’t accept money?’
Back to me, he looks to me across his shoulder, his face haunted under the moon’s light. ‘Scarlett, I’m fixing it.’ His words are subdued, as if he’s fed up of fighting. I go to him and wrap my arms around him. He holds a hand over mine on his chest as I lean into his back and gently press my lips to his shoulder. I don’t want him to have to fight any more.
When his phone rings again, he answers through speaker phone. A small act that means more to me than he probably realises.
‘Did they take it?’
‘No, I’m sorry, Gregory.’
‘How much do they want?’
‘Gregory, I don’t think they have a price. They’re a small paper. They realise the big guns are tied up in settlement agreements. They think this is too big a story to let go.’
His grip tightens over my hand. ‘Stay close. I’ll call you back.’
Gregory storms to the front of the boat and I follow, sitting down onto the edge of a rattan lounger, pulling one knee under me. He paces, one hand on his hip.
‘Level with me,’ I say, not confrontational but certainly authoritative.
He faces me, legs firmly planted, arms folded across his chest.
‘They aren’t this excited about a self-defence story that’ll blow over in a week, so tell me what they’ve got.’
‘I don’t want to drag you into this, Scarlett.’
‘Too late, Ryans, I’m in it for the long-haul. You’ve got me.’
