Vengeful Love (24 page)

“I can’t imagine a place like that.”

“Ja but South Africa is one of the most beautiful places I’ve seen too. The coast is surreal, high cliff drops, white sand, crashing waves, penguins. And the land is lush, the deepest greens. And the animals, they’re proper, not like the rabbits and badgers people call animals over here—lions, elephants, rhinos.”

As he talks I visualise the green land with zebras grazing and lions bathing in afternoon sun. It’s as if I’m there, walking on the plains. Then the sky grows darker. I pass a cheetah devouring its blood-doused prey. I continue to walk south past two grey-brown hyenas with matted fur, scowling through a menacing laugh. The open plains turn to cliff tops, rocky, lifeless.

The cry of a child startles me. I peer over the cliff’s edge and see the familiar young boy in shorts, a shirt and braces. He sobs, his knees tucked tight into his chest, perched on the edge of a rock. A grey-haired man approaches from my left. I recognise him. He takes the boy’s hand and makes him stand. The boy stops crying and smiles at the man. My father.

Dad smiles back, ruffles his hair then leads him down to the beach from the rock. I dart my head right to where I hear heavy breathing, almost snarl like. Pearson. He sneaks from rock to rock moving closer to my father and the boy. I know he wants to kill them. I try to move but my legs are rooted to the ground. I try to scream, to alert my father, but nothing comes out. Pearson moves from behind the last rock standing between them and pulls a gun from the back of his stained stonewashed jeans. I try again to scream, I try with all my might but it’s not until Pearson has his gun to my father’s head that I’m able to make a noise. I scream, “Dad! Dad!” at the top of my voice and Pearson turns his gun on me.

I wake abruptly, panicking and hot. I’m alone in front of the rescinding fire. Gregory is in his jeans and on his Blackberry, his back to me.

“Don’t leave their side,” he’s saying. “I don’t care, Mother. Just for once, do what I ask.”

He turns to see me awake.

“Ja. Alright, then. We’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.”

He ends the call. Looks at the Blackberry in his hand then places it on an oak sideboard. Eventually, he looks at me, his face taut and serious, his sculpted jaw tight. He swallows hard. “Scarlett, move in with me.”

“What was that about?”

He glances to the sideboard. “Nothing.”

“Gregory, why would I move in with you if I can’t trust you to be honest with me?”

He stands still for a second then pulls a hand through his hair.

“That was my mother,” he finally says. “After what happened to your father, I asked Jackson to bring in some extra guys. He’s brought in two to stay with her and Lawrence.”

“You’re worried he’ll come after Lara?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you want me to move in with you,” I mumble. “You want to protect me because you think he’ll come for me. Again.”

He sighs. “It’s possible, yes.”

Tears form in my eyes. I nod, roll back my shoulders and straighten the sides of my nightdress as if it were a suit and I was about to walk into a meeting at work.

“Okay then.”

“No, Scarlett,” Gregory says as he moves swiftly across the room toward me. “Yes. Yes, I want to protect you but I want to have you around because...because I don’t know how to let you go. I don’t know what you do to me or how. My life is a certain way, structured and controlled, serious. But you, with your sarcasm and hotheadedness, you make things...different.”

He steps close to me and brushes my cheek with his fingertips. “I’ve got no idea what someone like you would want with me but somehow, for some reason, here you are and I never want you to leave me because I’m worried you’ll realise what I am and you won’t come back. I’m not ready to lose you.”

“Really?” I whisper.

He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head.

“Are you making fun of me, Mr. Ryans?”

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his tight embrace. I close my eyes and absorb his scent.

“For the record, I’m not going anywhere, Gregory. I’m not afraid of who you are or who you might be whenever you decide to let me in.”

He kisses my brow and pulls me tighter into his chest.

“About moving in though,” I say, leaning back to look at him. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you but I have a lot of stuff to sort out at the moment, with the house and Sandy. I mean, if I’m not living in the house it doesn’t make sense for me to keep it. I could at least rent it out. Then there’s Sandy, it’s her home as well and at least in theory she still works there.”

I break from his arms as I ponder the situation. “I’ve been so wrapped up with everything else that I haven’t thought enough about Sandy. She’s lived with me nearly all my life, always been there, and now... I can’t afford to keep her and I don’t have enough work to keep her busy. If I leave she’ll have to go too. Oh my god, what will Sandy do?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Come on, let’s go.” I flick the
Sunday Times
Gregory is reading cross-legged.

“Go where?”

“Let’s take the dogs and go for a walk, it’s a gorgeous morning and we’ve got hours before we go to your mother’s for lunch.”

He folds his newspaper at an almost comical lazy pace and places it on the coffee table.

“It’s freezing but I’m impressed with how quickly you got ready, for a woman, so let’s do it.”

“No need to be a cocky arse, Mr. Ryans.”

With a wink, he disappears and returns as I’m buttoning my coat high up my neck at the rear entrance to the farm.

“You were right, it is freezing!”

“Of course I was right. I’m always right and it would pay you to remember that fact. Here, put these on,” he says handing me shiny black Hunter wellies.

Glowering, I take the wellies from him and pull them over my denim trousers. “Whose are these?”

“Spares or Marian’s, maybe.”

Gregory’s also wearing a pair of wellies over his jeans and has buttoned his fitted Barbour coat to his neck. He really can look splendid in anything.

“There’s a country boy in there just crying to get out,” I say.

He flashes his sexy half smile then puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles, the sound piercing my ears. Both dogs come running straight to Gregory, who offers them a ruffling of their fur and ears.

“What are they called?”

“This one’s Hugo,” he says patting the liver and white dog. “This one’s Betsy.”

“You’re joking? Hugo and Betsy?”

“No joke.”

“For dogs?”

He shrugs and strides out into the field, illuminated by the low winter sun, the green grass sparkling with dew. The dogs run to be the first to collect a stick he throws far out in front of us. For a moment, a fleeting unrealistic moment I could kick myself for, I wonder what it would be like to live here. Our country retreat. Me. Gregory. Our dogs. We could set up an office with two desks and spend days working from home, having indulgent, hot sex between calls and emails. We’d drink an aperitif by the fire before dinner and eat at the large oak dining table by candlelight, our chairs pulled close together at one end of the table, so close we’re almost touching.

Shaking my brain back to reality, banishing my wishful thinking, I remind myself that I’m probably just Miss This Month for Gregory and next month he’ll be back to dating royals and Victoria’s Secret models. I run to catch up with him and walk by his side. He reaches down and slips his strong, warm hand into mine. We look at one another and smile. I can enjoy it while it lasts.

“Tell me, Mr. Gregory Ryans, how does one come to have all of this by the age of thirty?”

“Greed, pride, arrogance.”

“For the record, I don’t consider ambition to be any of those, although you can certainly be arrogant.”

He laughs, a short, tense sound.

“Really, I’ve always wanted to be my own boss and control my own future. I get a kick out of deals, seeing the worth of a company grow, discovering an innovative product and getting it into a market. There aren’t many jobs where you get to do all of that and do it
mostly
the way you want to.”

“I know what you mean. The close. For me closing a deal is such an adrenalin rush. I don’t love my job all day every day but closing is what I live for.”

“Until a few weeks ago, my job was the reason I got up in the morning. It was my purpose. And then this whirlwind high-flying lawyer burst into my office with her stiletto heels and tight-fitting dresses.”

“You mean it wasn’t my razor-sharp mind?”

He stops and turns me to face him then lifts my chin with his index finger and kisses me. When he withdraws, his expression changes, his brows furrow.

“You should know that there’re times when I can’t be around, Scarlett. I want to be fair to you. I travel overseas and sometimes there’s just a lot going on and taking up my time. And I’m not, I’m not like other men. I don’t do emotional.”

Panic booms under my ribs.

“I just want you to know up front because I don’t want you to get stuck in something you’re not happy with.”

My torso relaxes on an exhale.

“Well, that makes two of us. I know how the city works and I know what it takes to stay at the top of your game. As long as you respect me and trust me, I can cope with not seeing you every day.” We can work on the emotional stuff.

He bites the tip of my nose then slips his hand back into mine and we continue walking.

“So how did it all start? I know you have a degree from LSE, then what?”

He looks at me, bemused.

“Oh, Gregory, come on, legal research, due diligence. I told you I know more about you than you think.”

“I have a degree in Economics from LSE but it started before then. I’m not sure when but I used to idolise Lawrence. I hadn’t known a good man, a role model, until Lawrence. I used to watch him working in his office from home and making calls on one of those old clunky mobile phones. Do you remember those? As I got older, I started offering to help and Lawrence would give me things to do—sums, basic things. When I got older still he’d ask me what I thought of deals and ideas he was working on. By the time I went to LSE I had an idea for a product.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

“It was a sports bag alarm. A device to put in your sports bag whilst you were playing tennis, rugby, rowing or whatever. If anyone tampered with your bag whilst you were playing, the alarm would sound.”

“Hmm, did it take off?”

“I’d say it bombed but it never really took part in the race. That was the start of everything for me. I told Lawrence about my idea and in hindsight, he never really thought it was a flyer but when Easter break came around in my first year at LSE, Lawrence agreed to take me on a business trip to China. Lawrence did his thing, met clients, networked and tried to strike deals. In the evenings he made me put on a suit and go with him but during the day I visited factories and markets and learned a bit about manufacturing. That’s when I realised that I wasn’t a creator and the money was in being the middle man.”

Hugo and Betsy run toward us. I take a stick from Hugo’s mouth and throw it as far as I can. A few steps later Gregory picks it up and throws it properly.

“Then what happened?”

“Well, then I came home, took exams and soon it was summer break. Williams graduated that year and had nothing lined up so I told him to come out to China with me. He explored during the day but I did the same thing again, went to factories and markets and introduced Williams to some of the men I’d met with Lawrence. One of them told me about these LED lights, said they’d be the future. I agreed to visit his factory the next day and that was my first product. I agreed to take a shipload on a sale or return basis and try to sell it into the UK. When I got home, I lined up some big wholesalers who supplied big retailers and slowly but surely the lights took off. The business still exists. I place people there when they start working for me. It’s a relatively small business so I figure if they can’t do a good job there they’re no good at all.”

“Where does Williams come into it?”

“I still had two years left at LSE and I knew I needed a fallback. Plus I was too competitive to back out without kicking the arse of every guy on that course.”

“I hadn’t noticed that competitive streak,” I say sarcastically, receiving a glare in return. “So Williams ran the business for you?”

“It was always my business, I called the shots and Williams ran all decisions by me. He’s more numbers than commercial, but he managed the business day-to-day during term time. Within a few months, we made enough money to pay him well so he stayed.”

“Then you branched out?”

“Mmm, by the time I graduated we had five or six high value products and we were selling into all major wholesalers in the country. A year after graduating we were selling into America, Australia and Europe. Then we diversified, acquired some additional companies, set up some sub-divisions and here we are.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It definitely wasn’t easy but it was fun, still is, but the bigger you get, the greater the impact of your decisions. The stakes are higher.”

A pheasant flaps its way from a bush in the distance and the dogs shoot off after it.

“Hugo! Betsy!” I shout.

Gregory bends forward on a chuckle. “Scarlett, they’re not really called Hugo and Betsy.”

“You’re an arse.” I laugh, nudging into his arm. “Aren’t you going to get them?”

“Buster! Bramble!” Gregory growls.

The dogs stop the pursuit and immediately turn back towards Gregory.

“Good boy. Good girl,” he says, giving each a treat. The dogs sit, waiting for their master’s next instruction. Gregory flicks a hand forward and both dogs sprint out in front of us.

“Even your dogs are intimidated by you.”

“They know what’s good for them. And you, Scarlett Heath, how did you come to be a yuppie in one of the best law firms in the city?”

I shrug. “There’s really not an exciting story. No exotic foreign trips.”

“Tell me anyway.”

I drop my hands into my coat pockets and stroke the bobbled wool lining.

“I went to Cambridge. Girton College. I read Law. In my second year Saunders approached me and I accepted their offer of a training contract.”

“They approached you? Isn’t that unheard of?”

I shrug again. “Depends on the circumstances, I guess.”

“You were top of your class, weren’t you?”

I nod once and feel my cheeks begin to flush. “After I graduated I had to study legal practice for a year. Saunders runs a course specific to the firm so I had to do that. Then I trained for two years and whilst I was training Saunders paid for me to study for a master of laws.”

“And you got a distinction in that too.”

I glance at him. My brow scrunched.

“Due diligence, Miss Heath. Believe it or not, I didn’t take you on for your looks.”

“I can well believe that.”

He shakes his head. “Did you always want to be a lawyer?”

“I wanted to be a lot of things, exciting things, but definitely not a lawyer.”

“So how? Why?”

“Your perception of what constitutes excitement changes as you get older.” I laugh. “Probably when I was making a decision about my college courses I had a realisation that I wouldn’t be a dancer, or an astronaut or whatever else I’d considered. When I thought about it, I mean seriously considered career paths, I didn’t think much further than being a doctor like...” I pause and unwittingly glance up to Gregory.

“Like your father.”

I nod once and watch my wellies as I step forward.

“My dad kept telling me I was only to be a doctor if that’s what I really wanted to be. He told me that I should study sciences but also study something I enjoyed. I remember thinking it was a strange thing to say because I hadn’t thought about whether I enjoyed studying or which subjects I enjoyed, I just saw everything as a challenge, a competition that I had to win. I don’t know when that happened to me. Anyway, I decided I enjoyed English as much as anything and I was good at it so I studied Biology, Chemistry, Maths and English.”

“So when did you change your mind?”

“When a good friend of my dad’s got sick. He worked all his life to help others with medicine and care, then when he needed help there was nothing that could be done. It’s not like I don’t think doctors do an amazing job but I just sort of fell out with the idea of medicine.”

“I get that.”

“Falling out with medicine opened my eyes again I think. I realised I really did like English, writing and creating something. So it came to university time and my English teacher suggested some career paths. Law was one of them and I thought to myself, well, that’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

He laughs. “That’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard?”

I shrug and laugh too. “I love it now though, the law I mean. I like the order of it, the logic and rationality and I still like creating something, using and manipulating language.”

“And kicking arse?”

“That’s the best bit.” I glance at my watch and reluctantly tell Gregory, “We should head back if I’m going to be ready in time for lunch.”

He whistles through two fingers and the dogs bound toward us. He takes a stick from Buster and throws it in the direction of the farm.

“You really studied for a masters whilst you were working?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

In more ways than one, Mr. Emotionally Detached. In more ways than one.