He furrows his brows. I really don’t want to cheapen what we have but as I turn the diamonds around my finger, brilliant sparkling gems entwined with a streak of darkness, I know it’s the right thing to do.
‘I think you should publicise the engagement.’
His eyes betray his anger.
‘It makes you look human, Gregory. Someone can love you. This whole thing could still leak. You’re one of the wealthiest men in the world; I just think showing people that someone can love you looks?—’
‘Don’t you dare!’ His words are a bark that howls across the emptiness of the harbour. ‘Don’t you dare turn the way I feel for you into a PR stunt, Scarlett. Don’t ever do that!’
‘I just think?—’
‘No!’ He pulls his knee onto the lounger so we’re facing each other. ‘You’re the only good thing in my life. I want the world to know you’re mine and it will, but I’m not bringing what we have into this shit. It’s worth more than this. So much more.’
‘All right. I’m sorry.’ I hold his cheek in my palm.
He turns to kiss my skin.
‘CSR it is.’
‘There’s nothing we can do for a while. Let’s get some sleep.’
‘Can we stay out here?’ I look up to the sky, the stars clearing as the blackness turns to grey. ‘I like it.’
‘I’m happy wherever you are.’
‘Where is that, incidentally?’
‘St Bart’s, baby.’
We take two lounger cushions and lie on the front of the deck. He pulls my body into him – my back to his chest, his knees behind mine – and lays a thick blanket over us.
‘You smell of you,’ he says, nuzzling into my neck and drawing my hair back across my shoulder. I drift into a peaceful sleep, pushing away lingering thoughts of darkness and the stress we’ll have to deal with when we wake again.
15
The sun is beating down on my face. In our brief sleep, I’ve wormed my way onto Gregory’s chest, one hand on his bare pec, one leg wrapped across his. He holds me to him with an arm draped over my shoulder, his hand resting in my hair.
There’s clattering and chiming coming from the dining area, followed by the sound of hushed voices. Gregory strokes my hair and presses his lips to my head. Without opening my eyes, I snuggle harder into his chest.
‘I prefer waking up with you,’ I mumble.
‘Me, too, gorgeous. Come on, Bertie’s setting up breakfast.’
I groan at first and cling to him. Then the curtain of blissful contentedness lifts. ‘Shit, what time is it?’ I sit bolt upright, the blanket around us falling to my waist. ‘I need to speak to Richard about the injunction.’
‘You need to get dressed before you do anything else.’
I look down over my skimpy nightdress. ‘Yes. I do.’ Pulling the blanket around me, I leave Gregory in only his lounge bottoms. I can’t resist a quick peek at him lying in the sun, arms stretched up behind his head. The epitome of man. In the process, I almost crash into Bertie.
‘Morning, Miss Heath,’ he says, attempting to disguise a smirk.
‘Morning, Bertie.’
‘Welcome to St Bart’s,’ Carl chimes through a bite of banana from the main salon.
‘Good morning, Carl.’
‘Hey, Scarlett, did you sleep well?’ Bryony is laughing and I look back to see my man laughing, too. Someone might as well write S. E. X. across my brow in lipstick. ‘Good morning everyone,’ I say, only mildly amused as I wave a hand lazily in the air and head to our room.
