Vengeful Love (28 page)

“You’d hope so,” I laugh. “Are you still going to Lara’s party?”

“Oh, for sure, wouldn’t miss it, but I think we’re going as friends.”

“Friends? Right, okay.” I shake my head. “So are we still on for shopping one night this week?”

“Yes, definitely. Wednesday is good for me. Oh my gosh, how full on was Lara yesterday?”

I shrug. “I guess she was. She was different after that Camilla woman left though and what she’s doing for Sandy is really nice. I probably didn’t show it enough but I’ve been wondering what would happen to Sandy after...after my dad, and Lara’s fixed that.”

“I assume Gregory had something to do with it?”

When I nod, Amanda smiles, cocking her head to one side and moves to perch on the end of my desk. “You know, I do think he’s really quite miserable and up his own arse but—”

“Oh, there is a but!” I snap defensively.

“But, he’s kind of growing on me, slowly. Everyone can see he absolutely adores you. So as long as he doesn’t royally fuck it up, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

A grin spreads the width of my face, like a child in her first school play who’s just located her parents in the audience. “Well, I’m glad you approve.”

“Of sorts. I’ll be keeping a close eye on him,” she adds. “So, have you Googled this party Lara’s having? It’s crazy, full of celebs, apparently it’s a huge event.”

I
have
actually Googled the event and whilst the prospect of celebrities and the press thrill Amanda, I feel an inordinate amount of pressure not to embarrass Gregory and Lara. There’s frankly no way that will be possible when the press compare me to last year’s guest, Clarissa Fontaine, another Victoria’s Secret model. I wasn’t snooping exactly, the picture just flashed up on Google images so naturally, I looked. And I wish I hadn’t. They looked stunning together.

“There’s only one thing for it,” Amanda says.

“Harrods!” we sing in unison.

“Tomorrow evening?” I suggest.

“Yes, that’s fab!”

“Perfect! Now get out of here so I can do some work.”

Turning on her heels and flicking her long hair over her shoulder, Amanda leaves. I jot down the names of Eclectic Technologies and Shangzen Tek on a Post-it note which I take to Margaret and ask her to run conflict of interest checks to make sure there’s no reason the firm can’t act in any potential deal between Gregory and his Chinese acquaintances.

At eleven-twenty I head to the ladies’ to check that my hair, make-up and dress are in order, as if Gregory hasn’t seen me without each of them out of place. I turn in the floor-length mirror to check there are no clicks in my stockings then rub a damp paper towel across the toes of my black patent leather shoes. There’s a sickly excitement building in my stomach. I am desperate to see him, even if I’ll have to share him with Williams and Lawrence.

A walk will be good for me. It will calm my irrational nerves before I see him. I have to remember to keep things professional. The rain has stopped when I step onto the street. My excitement immediately dissipates and is replaced by irritation when I see Jackson standing in front of me, holding open the door to the Mercedes.

Standing still on the spot it occurs to me that I could ignore Jackson’s presence. What would he really do about it? It would be Gregory who got angry. I take one step right and for a second I’ve convinced myself I’ll actually walk away but I know it’s not Jackson who’s trying to strip me of my independence.

“Thank you,” I mumble as I sit into the backseat of the Mercedes.

Jackson inclines his head but I suspect he knows better than to strike up conversation with a woman sporting a scowl like mine. He sits into the driver seat and does not roll down the partition as he pulls out into the continuous stream of traffic. When we arrive at Gregory’s glass tower, I’m out of the car and storming through the glass doors to the building before Jackson has a chance to step out of the driver seat. My toe taps the ground as the lift rises. Irritation has now crystalised into rage.

“I’m here to see Mr. Ryans, it’s Scarlett Heath.” I unintentionally snap at the blonde on the reception desk. There’s no love lost there, in any event.

“We’re expecting you. I’ll take you to his office, follow me.”

“His office?”

“Yes, he ordered lunch for the two of you to his office.”

“Williams, erm, Mr. Williams and Mr. Lawrence aren’t joining us?”

“They weren’t on the planner.”

We take the lift up a floor to twenty-eight, where a gleaming gold sign greets us, stating this is the floor for GJR Enterprises. The blonde leads me along the corridor of floor to ceiling windows and knocks quietly, once, twice below the engraving that reads Chief Executive Officer. She opens the door to the oversized office revealing Gregory, watching the FTSE, Dow Jones and various commodity indexes on numerous flat screen televisions from behind his chrome and glass desk. A selection of sushi decorates a table flanked by two leather sofas in the unnecessarily large space between Gregory’s desk and the door.

“Mr. Ryans, Miss Heath for you,” the blonde says, standing with one foot outstretched in front of her body the way Angelina Jolie might do on the red carpet.

Watching the flutter of her eyelids and her sickening smile does little to cool my temper. She steps out of the room backwards and closes the office door, all the while undressing her CEO with wild-for-him eyes.

Gregory stands from behind his desk with his delectable half smile pulling on his lips but not even that can contain my fury.

“What the hell gives you the right to think you can restrict my liberty?”

I toss my bag onto a leather chair in front of his desk. He’s visibly and silently taken aback.

“I wanted to get the tube to Canary Wharf this morning but no, you sent Jackson for me without asking. Then I go for coffee with a potential client and you have the audacity to plant Jackson in the café to spy on me. I can’t believe you really don’t trust me at all. Then, then, I wanted to walk here just now. I
needed
to walk here. Nevertheless, who’s waiting to bundle me into the back of a car when I walk out of the office? Yes, that’s right, Jackson.”

He lifts one arm across his waist and rubs his chin with his opposite hand.

“I never said I wanted to live in a cage, Gregory. I don’t want to fear walking in the streets. I don’t want to be watched by Jackson, who,
who
, I currently live with, incidentally, and I certainly don’t need to be controlled by you!”

“It’s not controlling, it’s protecting.”

I pull off my coat and throw it on top of my bag.

“Don’t give me shitty sarcasm, Gregory, it really doesn’t become you. Why don’t you start with something like, ‘Scarlett, I’m sorry I’m trying to control you, I have absolutely no fucking right to do that’?”

“How about I start with this, you left out some details this morning about Luke Davenport.” He loosens his blue silk tie a notch and takes two steps towards me.

“So now
you’re
stalking me as well as Jackson.”

“Social media can be very insightful.”

“Well how’s this for insightful... I dated Luke at uni for six months. It was a juvenile relationship and we only ever did the
thing
once. I didn’t tell you about him because there’s nothing to tell. He’s in banking now and I stay in touch with him because he’s a good friend and one day he might put some work my way. Pardon me for not fucking people and ditching them like I don’t give a shit. And whilst we’re on the subject, I don’t see why I have to share everything with you when you won’t tell me anything. I never know what you’re thinking or what you’re feeling. You’re making me dizzy with all your secrets and lies.”

“Damn it, Scarlett, I’m trying. Who do you think you are to storm into my office and start yelling at me like some crazy lunatic?”

I take three strides toward him. “Lunatic? Lunatic? If anyone is driving anyone crazy here, it’s
you
driving
me
crazy!”

“I drive you crazy?” He takes another two steps toward me until he’s standing so close I can feel the heat of his anger.

My train of thought has gone. “Yes. You drive me fucking crazy.”

He takes my head in his hands and kisses me forcefully. I thrust my fingers into his hair and pull. With two hands on my arse, he lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist. He carries me to the frosted glass door and reaching a hand behind me, I turn the lock.

“I think I’m going insane,” I pant.

“That makes two of us.”

He slams my back against the door and rubs a hand up my thigh, moving my dress to my waist. He starts to pull my lace thong down my legs.

“The desk,” I pant.

Casting a lamp and documents to the back of the desk, he sits me onto the edge. With one finger, he unhurriedly draws my thong down my legs to the floor. The feel of lace caressing my charged skin is more than my raging hormones can take. I pull the buckle of his Gucci belt loose and unfasten his trousers. He pulls them down to reveal his long, enticing cock.

“You can’t keep using sex to get out of the doghouse, Ryans.”

He steps back, breaking our contact. “No?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not fair. It’s a lethal weapon and I’m defenceless.”

He bends to bite my breast over my dress. “Then just start doing what I say, baby.”

I gasp as he pulls me from the desk and flips me so I’m bent forward, my arms and chest face down on the glass top.

“I’m going to spank this beautiful arse, just like you deserve.”

I swallow deeply, strangely turned on by the thought of a spanking. I lick my lips as I watch him over my shoulder raising his big palm and I cry out when the sting lands.

He runs a hand from the top of my back and strokes the pearl of my arse then rams two fingers into me.

“Wet for me.” He slides his fingers across my wetness then uses it to move his fingers like silk across my clit. He draws his fingers back to my rear entrance, applying disastrously good pressure to my hole. I’m already panting for him, my breathing rising to erratic drags as my temperature rises.

“So fucking beautiful.”

The fact that we’re fully clothed, in his office, and his staff are just beyond the frosted glass wall, adds to my frantic state.

On a growl he crashes into me, the angle driving him painfully to the end of me. Biting my lip, I grip the edges of the desk hard, trying to hang on.

I know I can’t make another sound.

Having to absorb the sensation intensifies the feeling. His breathing comes heavier and faster. He holds my hips and yanks me back onto him, deepening each drive. His hand delivers another spank. I squirm as the heat of my burning flesh resonates in my sex. My hips push back against him, begging for more. He slaps my cheek harder on a low groan.

“Again,” I beg. I can’t believe this is me.

He thrusts deep inside of me, so deep he bangs against my wall, and slaps me for a fourth, hardest time. The delicious medley of pain and obscene pleasure taking me to the edge.

“Gregory, I’m going to come.”

He wraps his arm around me and circles my clit as my muscles clamp down on his solid length. “I can feel you, baby. Come with me.”

Finally, I let go. As quietly as possible, gripping the sides of his desk, I come with him.

He rests inside of me until we’ve both caught our breath, then he helps me up and kisses me gently on the lips.

“Gregory,” I whisper, “Luke Davenport is gay.”

He kisses me again with tight, upturned lips as he leans around me takes a handful of tissues from his top drawer then hands them to me and turning around to fasten his trousers.

“I think this is yours,” he says, retrieving my thong from the floor.

“But you would look so good in it,” I tease as I discreetly deposit the used tissues into his bin.

Almost immediately after Gregory unlocks the office door there’s a knock and a lady brings a trolley holding tea and coffee into the room. I don’t need a mirror to tell me that my cheeks are the colour of my dress.

After lunch, we slip back into our professional personas, taking opposite sofas at the table and discuss options for the structure of Eclectic’s new deal with Shangzen Tek. Our little episode has relieved the tension from us both. He talks finance and products and I draw diagrams and discuss tax implications. It’s after four when we finally agree on some options for Gregory to explore in more detail with Mr. Cheung and his team.

“Whilst I don’t mind arguing with you, or rather I don’t mind the making up, it’s already dark and Jackson’s here anyway so would you please let him drive you home?” Gregory asks.

“You’re not coming?”

“I have a few things to do. Jackson can come back for me in a couple hours.”

“You could work from home.”

“Have you seen yourself in that dress? I’ll never get anything done.”

I defy any woman to argue with that. Instead, I agree to let Jackson drive me home and plant a kiss on Gregory’s brow before I leave.

“Scarlett,” he calls as I’m closing the office door, “thanks. You really are a good lawyer.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Ryans.”

My mood couldn’t be in greater juxtaposition to how I felt when I arrived at the office. Walking past the reception desk, I wonder whether the blonde knows what her precious Mr. Ryans got up to at lunchtime. For the first time, I walk past the desk not feeling intimidated by her undeniable beauty.

“Hi Jackson.”

“Scarlett.”

“I’m sorry for being rude earlier. I wasn’t cross with you, he can be incredibly obstinate.”

All Jackson says is, “I’ve worked for him for a long time.”

I suspect that’s as close to him accepting my apology and agreeing with me as I’ll get. Inside the car, I tap on the partition and Jackson rolls down the screen.

“Is Sandy moved in?”

“Mostly. She asked me to give you this.”

Jackson hands me a small piece of paper with a mobile number and email address.

“Sandy has an email address?” I laugh. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well, Lara wanted Sandy to manage quite a lot of stuff in the house and one of those things is online shopping.”