Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds (7 page)

Chapter Eight

In some ways, three weeks flew over. Gregory nights were easy. He kept me more than a little busy. He’s been amazing. He’s spent at least two nights in Dubai each week, fudging working from the penthouse suite. Non-Gregory nights haven’t been tragic either. I’ve been crazy busy completing Mr. Ghurair’s deal, or I’ve been helping Sandy plan.

I’m told it’s coincidence that, just hours after Gregory returned to London three weeks ago, I received a call from Sandy saying she and Jackson have decided to get married. She explained away how they hadn’t previously thought about holding it abroad and how Lara has contacts in St. Lucia so they could marry soon and it wouldn’t break the bank. And by
soon
, she meant four weeks.

So here I am, sitting in a chair on one side of Neil Wallace’s desk, my first morning back in the London office. He’s pacing the floor on lanky legs, trying to keep his temper, switching between folding his arms across his blue shirt and huffily pushing his hands into the pockets of his black pinstripe trousers. Not only have I cut my secondment short, I’m now going on annual leave for two weeks from Thursday—seventy-two hours after returning from Dubai. I’m not sure if it’s the temperature of the room or the heat radiating from Neil that has my skin flushed and my hand wafting air against my cheeks each time he turns his back.

Neil is usually a decent man, a family man at heart, but my explanation about having to be in St. Lucia to walk my sub-mum down the aisle is falling on pissed off ears.

“Disappointed would be an understatement, Scarlett.” He shakes his head full of grey hair and halts his skinny body in front of his desk, staring down at me.

One thing’s for sure, my career ladder has snapped in two. Hours of effort, slogging my arse off for the firm, big wins, expedited promotions. They mean nothing now because I just pissed off the man at the top of the tower, two times.

“I’m sorry, Neil, honestly I am and it’s not something I’ve done before but, well, sometimes family has to come first.”

There’s something I never thought I’d say to my boss.

He sighs, almost resigned, as if there’s an outside chance my words have resonated somewhere in his brain. “I won’t lie to you, Scarlett. This hasn’t done you any favours.”

I nod. “I know.”

* * *

It’s after eleven, dark, cold and wet when I leave the office but I smile as soon as I see the Range Rover. It’s the first time Gregory has ever picked me up from work himself. Jackson is already in St. Lucia.

I wheel my large suitcase through the disabled access door and Gregory pulls up the collar of his navy trench coat as he climbs out of the driver seat.

“I had a feeling we might need boot space,” he says.

He takes the suitcase I’ve struggled to lug through my high-rise office block, and makes quick work of throwing it into the boot whilst I run with my mac over my head to the passenger side of the car.

“Hi,” I say with an enormous grin as he climbs behind the steering wheel.

“Hi you.” He cups my cheek with his warm palm and presses his lips to mine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you from the airport.”

“That’s okay. I thought it would be best to face Neil sooner rather than later anyway.”

“How did it go?”

I let out a short laugh and flop back in my seat as Gregory fastens my belt around my tired body. “I’m pretty sure my career with Saunders, Taylor and Chamberlain has reached a dead end.”

Gregory drops a peck to my brow, then buckles himself in and pulls out to the road too quickly. I press my body into the seat as heat starts to climb through the black leather and I turn my head to look at my sexy bazillionaire CEO.

He casts me a quick glance as he takes a left turn. “If it was so bad, why are you smiling?”

“Because something occurred to me whilst I was sitting in his office having my ears chewed off. Something I’ve never thought before.”

He glances to me again. “What’s that?”

“It doesn’t matter what Neil Wallace has to say because at the end of the day, I get to come home to you.”

He focusses on criss-crossing with traffic over Black Friar’s Bridge, heading south across the River Thames, but his lips turn up in a sexy half smile and he reaches for my hand. He drives back to the Shard and carries everything for me, including my handbag, when we get out of the car.

“Are you tired?” he asks as we ride the lift to the sixty-fourth floor.

“Mmm,” I say with sleepy eyes. “It’s almost four in the morning UAE time.”

“I know,” he whispers into my temple. “I’ve been crossing that time barrier for three weeks.” He kisses my scalp. “Are you hungry? Amy made extra dinner just in case. You should try to eat something.”

“No, thank you, sleep sounds much more appealing.”

He gestures for me to step onto the rosewood floor of his apartment then follows, carrying in my suitcase.

I stand for a minute, looking around the large open plan lounge, and give myself a moment to take everything in. The heated, dark wood floor, the expanse of windows overlooking the twinkling skyline. The combination of black, white and glass furniture and the abstract art on the walls that I used to think screamed
bachelor
. Now, I think it all screams Gregory. Gregory’s home. Our home.

I don’t let myself look at that spot on the floor that tries to draw me in. The spot where blood once pooled in the aftermath of my fatal shot.

“Would you like a drink?” he asks from the ultra-modern, open kitchen area at one end of the lounge.

I focus on Gregory instead. “No, thank you.”

“Just bed?”

I offer him an apologetic smile. “Please.”

“Okay, baby, let’s get you upstairs.”

He lifts my suitcase upstairs and I follow, watching his back move beneath his white fitted T-shirt, his arse flexing under his indigo jeans.
All mine.

As we walk the landing towards our bedroom at the far end, Gregory slips the suitcase into a spare room. “I’ll have Amy take care of that in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, dear, we aren’t getting much out of you tonight, are we?”

I shake my head. “Sleepy.”

He chuckles. “I know, baby. Before you shower, I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and stops outside a white door on the landing. “This is your welcome home gift.”

He pushes open the door and I step inside. He hits a switch and ceiling spotlights illuminate the room. Turning quickly on the spot, not knowing where to look first, my mouth falls open.

The double bed that used to stand in the middle of the large room is gone. The space has been completely transformed. The walls are lined with mahogany, open-door wardrobes. All my clothes, other than the small stash still in my suitcase, have been moved in and hang under strategically placed lights. Short dresses. Long dresses. Trousers. Jackets. Each item of clothing has its own specific spot. Around the floor a low-level shelf hosts my shoes, the pairs positioned just-so. I move to four padded stools forming a square in the middle of the room, kneeling on them to look into the glass-top chest behind.

“My jewellery.”

Drawers in one corner are the only section of the wardrobe not on display.
I take it my lingerie is in there.

I head to the dressing table beneath the window and run my fingers along the wood, then across the top of the chic French dressing chair. I turn my head left to the floor-length mirror and watch Gregory, smiling, leaning against the doorframe.

“Do you like it?”

“Gregory, I’m speechless. It’s amazing. Thank you so much.”

“You’re more than welcome, angel. Amy’s already started to pack you some things for St. Lucia. I didn’t think you’d have much time so I had Julia and Lucas send over new holiday clothes from Harrods. But I know how stubborn you get about your clothes so let Amy know if you want to add anything else. I can arrange for different stuff from Julia and Lucas, too.”

Shaking my head, I go to him and stroke my fingertips through the side of his thick, dark hair. “How long are you going to be on your best behaviour?”

“I just want everything to be perfect for you.”

“Everything is perfect, Gregory. It’s perfect because I’m here with you.”

After showering, I slip into a plum silk nightdress. Gregory is taking a call in his office, presumably to somewhere in a different time zone, so I tuck my tired limbs under the duvet and sink into his...
our
mattress. Amy has changed the sheets and although I miss his smell, the fresh linen scent on the Egyptian cotton is incredibly homey. Reaching for the remote, I switch the room to darkness and smile to myself. I’m here, in
our
bed, in
our
home.

I’m semi-comatose when Gregory’s weight leans onto the bed next to me. He lifts the covers and wraps his body around mine, pulling my back into him, cupping my thighs and knees with his own. He trails a finger lightly up, down, across my arm and nuzzles into my neck.

“Welcome home, baby.” He continues to swirl his finger. “I’m going to remind you every single day how much I love you.” He inhales deeply at my neck, then kisses the skin beneath my lobe. “Always.”

* * *

“Your latte.”

Margaret hands over the blue cardboard cup then adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Thank you.”

“And here’s your mail.” She gives me a stack of paper, already opened and sorted. “Only the top three need to be actioned. Pop the others in your filing tray when you’ve looked at them and I’ll pick them up for you. Oh, and there’s one more thing.”

She totters out of my office in her nude, hip-granny kitten heels. Her peach A-line skirt swishes as she walks.

I’m sifting through last night’s emails when a mass of bright white enters my peripheral vision. An absolutely gargantuan bouquet of flowers shields Margaret from my view, her head poking around one side to see where she’s headed.

“These came for you not long ago.”

She places them down on my desk with an expectant look on her face. Rising from my chair to appreciate the bouquet in its full glory, I take the small red envelope and slip out the card.

I’m going to remind you every day

how much I love you.

Always.

G x

Beaming, I lean over the flowers and breathe in the mix of white roses, lilies, Queen Anne’s Lace, chrysanthemums and a heap of other beautiful white flowers I don’t recognise but which smell divine.

“Looks like you had more than one reason to come home early,” Margaret says with a mischievous glint in her eye.

I try not to confirm that she’s hit on the
biggest
reason I wanted to come home, but I’m pretty sure my face is a dead giveaway because she raises her shoulders on a sweet giggle and sings, “Young love.”

Rolling my eyes playfully, I move my flowers to the window ledge. “We need to discuss my schedule, Margaret. I’m going to have a lot to juggle before I leave for St. Lucia. I still have work to do for Mr. Ghurair and Mr. Ryans has sent across a new deal for one of his companies, Constant Sources. Now, I’ll be taking my Blackberry and laptop so it’s not a complete shut down for two weeks but I will be trying to work as little as possible whilst I’m away.”

“Yes, of course. Well, luckily you were never supposed to be in the UK so you don’t have any face-to-face meetings planned. You do have a couple of conference calls but they appear to be catch-ups more than anything so I’ve already looked at times to rearrange for when you return.”

Margaret comes round to my side of the desk, standing over my shoulder and I open the Outlook calendar to my screen. “Who are they with?”

“Hugo Delaney of DDI International a week today.”

“Ah, yes, his father’s retiring and Hugo is replacing him on the board of DDI. That can wait, I just want to make sure he knows who I am.”

“The other was Spencer Cromwell.”

“MD of Charleston Beverages. Hmm, I would prefer not to rearrange that one actually, he won’t take too kindly. When is it supposed to be?”

“Monday at twelve.”

“GMT?”

Margaret nods and moves my mouse to locate the appointment in my calendar.

“Right, yes. Let’s keep that one. Could you double check whether I need a conference line and, if so, set it up for me to dial in from St. Lucia.”

“Do you want visual?”

“No. Call is fine.”

“Of course. Mr. Ryans would like to schedule a negotiation meeting at his offices before you fly out. He’s asked for tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Hmm, I can’t do today, I have to draft a due diligence report for Mr. Ghurair’s final deal. Could you speak to his PA and arrange something for late afternoon or evening tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course. Is there anything else?”

“Not just now. Thanks, Margaret.”

As Margaret exits, Amanda swoops into the room in a fitted electric blue dress, her red hair bouncing and thick, her skin truly glowing.

“Look at you! You’re showing in that dress.”

She rubs her dinky bump and her eyes fill with affection. “Well, I don’t have to hide my little princess anymore.”

“Princess?”

“Meh, today she’s a she.”

I giggle as she flicks a hand flippantly through the air. “I take it you’ve told Neil then?”

“Just. I figured he’s so pissed at you over coming back from Dubai and going on leave that he won’t care so much about me being pregnant.”

“Well, what are friends for if you can’t use their grave to dance on, right?”

“Exactly what I thought,” she says. “I am
so
excited for St. Lucia. My out of office reply is already turned on.”

“For Thursday?”

“No, silly. I have a half day today and I’m off tomorrow, too. Packing time. When are you finishing?”

“Hmm, about five hours before the flight?”

“You’re insane.”

“Insane I may be but I’m trying to keep Neil and Mr. Ghurair happy and pick up a new deal for Gregory.”

“How is the neurotic arsehole?”

I cock my head to one side. “Amanda, could you not, please?”

“Listen, I’m the one who had to see what he did to you. When you were together and when you were apart. I can drop
neurotic
if you like but he’s still an arsehole.”