Vengeful Love (26 page)

“Oh Lord no!”

Williams is staring; he’s definitely heard us. We exchange an awkward smile. My fondness of Williams, I realise, never disappeared.

“We were out together last night that’s all.” Motioning to her knee-length black skirt and Mary Janes, she adds, “I’ve only been out of my sloggies for an hour.”

Lara deals with the introductions and Gregory subtly pats a hand onto Williams’ shoulder with a laugh. Lunch is announced and Lara ushers us all toward the dining room.

“Hold on a sec,” I say, gently grabbing Williams by the arm and pulling him back into the lounge. “I just want to say I’m sorry about the other day. I know you were looking out for your friend and I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“I’m sorry too, Scarlett.” His voice is gentle and warm. “Look, it was none of my business and I shouldn’t have said anything. I just didn’t want to see you two mess things up. You’re both pretty bullheaded, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“It would be too late now if I did.” I nudge him gently and he wraps an arm around me.

Tony’s homemade duck pate is already waiting on each of our place mats. Miranda opens two bottles of wine on an oak side table then wraps a white cloth around one of the bottles.

“Red or white?” she asks as she makes her way around the large oval table.

“So, Amanda, please enlighten me,” Lawrence says. “What are sloggies?”

She places her napkin across her lap. “Sloggy clothes, like leggings and a big jumper or joggers and a tee, lounge clothes.”

“Ahh, I see. These onesies I hear people talk, they’d be sloggies?”

“Oh no, I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. White for me please,” she says, sliding her glass toward Miranda. “You see, the onesie can generally fall into two categories; nightwear, which is entirely acceptable but realistically far too warm to wear in bed and probably best left to the under tens, or cool cats trying too hard. The other type is people who actually wear onesies in public and walk as if one leg is two or three inches shorter than the other. This category is really never acceptable.”

Amanda takes a sip of wine, giving Lawrence a chance to scratch his head, bemused.

Then she quickly chirps up again. “There’s a distinction between the sloggy and nightwear. Sloggies can be worn at any time of the day without feeling like a bum.”

“Feeling like a bum?” Lawrence asks.

“Mmm-hmm, yep. But nightwear can only be worn around a two to three hour window before or after sleep. Well, unless it’s one of few days a year when a person decides to have a duvet day—a normal person, not a try-hard.”

The table falls silent for a second or two until Lara bursts into uproarious laughter.

“Would you look at his face!” She presses a hand to her ribs. “He’s so confused.”

The merriment continues as anecdotes are shared. Camilla regales us with a tale from Lara’s bonfire party last year. For some reason, I find myself wondering whether she really did share jokes will Bill Nighy and Sebastian Faulkes. Call it a hunch.

“We’ll have to introduce Scarlett around this year, Lara.” Camilla winks at her friend.

I shift my head to look at Camilla.

Gregory steps in. “Erm, Camilla, I haven’t—”

I turn to Gregory.

“Oh, yes of course. Scarlett, you’ll have so much fun,” Lara offers.

Now I spin to face Lara.

Gregory tries again. “Mother, we might not—”

“We need to go shopping. I have my dress but we can get you something new, Scarlett.”

“Mother!” Gregory snaps. “Scarlett knows nothing about the party yet. She might not be ready.”

Lara is visibly wounded but manages to compose herself. “Of course not, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say, resting a hand onto Gregory’s knee. “A party might be a good distraction.”

Lara smiles at me and as much as I really don’t want to, I tell her, “I could do with a new dress.”

“Actually, I need a new dress for the party too,” Amanda quickly cuts in. “Why don’t the two of
us
go shopping one night this week since Lara already has her dress and probably has an awful lot to do here?”

“That sounds like a great idea to me,” Gregory adds before Lara can protest.

Camilla moves on to the next topic of conversation and I’m grateful to be relieved from the center of attention. Tony wheels the infamous honey glazed ham to the side of the table on a trolley and carves two slices for each person. Miranda serves the ham and vegetables onto our plates. Sandy sits awkwardly in her chair and fiddles with the stem of her glass, which she refused to have filled with wine, I suspect because Jackson isn’t drinking either.

I mouth to her,
you okay?
and she nods back to me unconvincingly.

Two men walk past the dining room window, doing a lap of the house outside. They’re almost a mirror image of each other, both in black trousers, knee-length black wool coats and black leather gloves. My body shudders in response. Extra security.

He’s still out there.

Gregory puts down his folk and drops a hand to my thigh. “They’re a precaution, that’s all.” His warm breath on the bare skin of my neck instantly comforts me. He finishes lunch with his right hand, his left entwined with mine.

After lunch, Charles and Camilla leave to visit her daughter and the rest of us retire to the lounge with coffee. There’s a noticable shift in Lara’s attitude once Camilla has gone, as if her pretense is no longer necessary. I much prefer this version of her. Sandy seems to have relaxed too. She’s stopped fiddling and is talking happily with Jackson.

I cast my eyes around the room and find Gregory watching me, one hand resting a coffee cup on his crossed leg. We stay locked in that gaze for a moment before my face breaks into a dizzy-in-love smile. He smiles back then leans forward and places his cup onto the coffee table. “Alright, gents, ready?”

Jackson is first to stand and explains that he’s going to check in with Ken and Marshall, who I suspect are the black clothed
precaution
walking the perimeter of the house. Williams and Lawrence are next up and they, with Gregory, leave the room to talk business.

“I’m glad there’s just us, ladies,” Lara says when the men have vacated. “I wanted to talk to you about an idea I’ve had.”

Miranda has taken the movement in the room as an opportunity to offer fresh tea and coffee but Lara tells her she should consider herself off duty now and relax with Tony and Mack. She takes an unfinished bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and gives it to Miranda. She tells her to finish it and that Tony and Mack should help themselves to spare beers in the fridge.

I
much
prefer this Lara.

“Right, my idea,” Lara says, sitting back onto the sofa with her self-poured fresh cup of tea. “Gregory told me that you’ve moved in with him, Scarlett.”

“Have you?” Amanda shouts, almost leaping from her chair.

“No, no, not exactly. It’s just for a week. I just didn’t, couldn’t, I didn’t really want to stay in the house,” I confess, glancing at Sandy apologetically.

“Well, I was thinking,” Lara continues, “if you do move in with Gregory, there’ll be a lot done for you. I mean shopping, cleaning, that sort of thing. And I don’t mean to bring it up and I realise she spent a lot of time caring for your father, but I know that Sandy did those things for you too.”

Mild irritation murmurs under my tongue.

“To get to the point, Miranda has an awful lot to do around here and I’ve been thinking lately that she could perhaps use someone to share her workload.”

Finally, the point is starting to take shape.

“That person could live here, although should she ever want to leave that would be fine too. She could come during the day, we could arrange something to suit everyone,” Lara adds smiling at Sandy sincerely. “Of course, when you spend so much time together it’s important to have someone around who you know you can trust. So I hope you don’t mind, Scarlett, but I’ve spoken to Sandy about whether she might like the position.”

Words, thoughts, actions begin to spin in my mind.
I don’t want to lose Sandy
. I know I don’t need her anymore. Maybe I can’t afford to keep her. I don’t know if I’ll even keep the house. At least if she was with Lara I could see her and I’d know she’s safe.
I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want to lose her
. Looking to Sandy, Amanda, Lara and back to Sandy, I try to find the right words, the correct response.

Sandy shuffles close and looks at me with her sweet chocolate eyes. “I need to work. You’re grown up now. I’ve done my job. I finished helping you grow up a long time ago. For the last few years I’ve kept the house tidy and—”

“Made me pancakes.”

She giggles and tucks my hair behind my ear the way she used to when I was a child. The touch of her fingers makes my eyes glaze.

“Yes, and made you pancakes. But for the most part, I’ve cared for your father. You don’t need me anymore and to be honest, Scarlett, I don’t want to work for you anymore. I’ve watched you grow into an amazing, clever, beautiful woman. You’re not my little princess anymore, you’re my best friend.”

I can feel the walls of the dam that’s holding back the water from my eyes crack and crumble.

“Are you sure this is what you want? We could sort something, I promise.”

“I think this is a good idea. It’s time for me to have my own life instead of being old before my time, like you always tell me. Plus, this way I’ll get to see you more.”

“And Jackson.”

She chuckles and pulls me into her body.

“So that’s settled then?” Lara asks.

Sandy nods with a smile. “Settled.”

I’m going to break and I can’t do it here.

“Okay. I’m just going to get some air.”

“Do you want me to come?” Amanda asks.

“No, you enjoy the tea.”

Following solar lights down a white gravel path, I arrive at a fence at the end of the garden. Resting my forearms onto the fence, looking into the vast darkness beyond, I wonder where my father is, where and what his version of life after death could be. The dam finally disintegrates and silent tears spill down my cheeks.

The cold wind carries the sound of footsteps in the gravel moving closer to me. A blazer is hung around my shoulders.

“Everything okay?” Gregory asks.

I brush away the tears with the backs of my hands as he leans forward to rest on the fence beside me.

“I know it sounds pathetic, but I just feel like so much is changing, as though I’m struggling to find a foot hold. Yesterday, Dad was healthy and happy, today he’s gone. I’ve found out your father is a complete iniquitous bastard. Sandy is leaving. And I’ve met this guy and he has my head in such a spin I can’t think straight.”

Gregory exhales loudly. “And here I was thinking I’d never come across a problem I couldn’t fix or at least buy or charm my way out of.”

I shuffle my feet toward him and rest my head on his shoulder. My eyes search the black sky decorated with sparkling crystals.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, following my gaze.

“Have you ever thought that the stars only look so beautiful because the sky is so dark?”

His shoulder rises and falls with his breath. “I guess not.”

“Maybe we’re just like one of those stars, Gregory. Maybe all of those bad things that have happened are the reason we’re standing here right now.”

He pulls me into his chest and rests his chin gently on my head. “Jesus, I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Scarlett Heath.”

My arms wrap tightly around his body and pull him closer to me. “Thank you for what you did for Sandy. It was sweet of you.”

“I didn’t do it for Sandy, Scarlett, I did it for you, to stop you worrying about other people.”

He kisses my brow then, leaning back and pulling me toward him by his blazer lapels, he presses his lips to the tip of my nose.

“Take me home,” I whisper.

“Home?”

“Home for this week,” I say, offering him a half smile that says
Mr. Ryans you are mischievous.

He takes my hand and leads me back along the gravel path.

* * *

I’m roused in the darkness by the soft tenor notes of a saxophone. Wrapping a silk kimono around me, I follow the sound, pausing at the top of the staircase when I see Gregory in the lounge. Wearing only lounge pants, his perfectly formed torso bare, he stands at the window staring out into the night.

The sound system clicks onto the next John Coltrane track. Gregory continues to watch the city. Lights from high-rise buildings illuminate his body and expose to me for the first time a white scar, healed and aged but permanent, running from close to his spine out to his hip. My perfect Gregory, spoiled.

I want to go to him, to kiss his tarnished skin and tell him he’s safe now. I want him to be free of his demons but I can’t make that happen. Not tonight. I watch him until one more track clicks over on the sound system and I can’t watch my terrorised man any longer. I need to make him forget, the way he can make me leave my mind and thoughts.

He must hear me but he doesn’t turn, he keeps his eyes on the darkness. My hands start at his shoulders and move down the length of his arms as my mouth trails kisses across the width of his back. His body rises and falls with his deep breath and exhale.

Something in him snaps. He turns quickly and lifts me from my feet, charging us back toward the sofa. His irises are black. He’s hurting, lost behind the darkness. This is real. This is his pain. From the way his eyes trail up and down my body and his fingers dig into my flesh, I know this is going to be hard. He needs me, he needs this and I’ll take whatever he needs to lose himself.

He plants me on the floor in front of the sofa and pulls my kimono from my shoulders. His huge erection is ready, hostile, when he yanks down and discards his lounge pants.

He grabs my breasts, too hard, then pulls my nipple with his teeth, pain attacking the end. I close my eyes and dip my head back, willing myself to be strong. An almost animal growl rumbles through his lips. His hands move to my hips, lifting me and pushing me down to the sofa, then he kneels between my legs. He pushes my knees apart and sucks hard on my clit, causing my hips to thrust back on a medley of pain and pleasure filled groans. His fingers drive into me and work roughly, taking me hard and quickly to a clouded mind. I won’t come. This is for him. I want to help him the way he helps me. This is what we know. This is our cure.