Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds (13 page)

“The main risks are, one, that someone already has a knock-off in the making. They could have reverse engineered the source code or be at work creating identical concepts. Characters and branding, for example. I guess we have to cross our fingers it hasn’t been on the market long enough for someone to try. The second big risk is that we don’t have the power to register. In other words, if Stuart’s ownership of the game and therefore Constant Sources’ ownership of the game, is somehow questionable.”

“How could that happen?” Gregory asks.

“Either Stuart never held the rights to the game in the first place, or he had them and licensed or sold them in such a way that Constant Sources could never have acquired them.”

“And the other risks?” Gregory presses.

“We could stumble on something in a particular jurisdiction. Say, I don’t know, erm,
elements
of Black Diamonds have already been registered. But we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. First step is to check Stuart’s authority to sell to Constant Sources. Second step is to set out what rights we need to register in the various jurisdictions. I’ve already put the feelers out with local counsel.”

“How much is this going to cost me, tens of or hundreds of?”

“All being well, tens of.”

Gregory nods and takes a sip from his freshly topped up wine. “Fine.”

“You don’t want to know how many tens of?”

“If we’re not talking hundreds that’s micro detail. I’m a macro man.” He smirks, as does Williams. I suspect this is something Williams has heard more than once.

“When I work for you, I’ll be taking much tighter control of your legal spend, Mr. Ryans.”

“Someone probably should,” he says with humour in his voice.

“Okay. If we’re done. I’m going to get changed and join Amanda.” I ruffle his hair and drop a kiss to his scalp.

* * *

The master bedroom looks exactly as I would have imagined the master bedroom of a yacht to look. There’s something about it that smells, looks and feels luxurious and at sea all at once. The furniture—trims round the mirrors, chairs, feet of the sofa, coffee table—is all mahogany and cream.

Stepping out of the bathtub-shower, I wrap a towel around me and draw
I Love You
with a heart in the steam on the mirror above the sink unit. Leaving the bathroom, I rummage through the stash of bikinis that Julia and Lucas have picked out for me, choosing a red shimmer bandeau style.
He likes me in red.
I cast it onto the fresh white linen of the queen bed then head into the small lounge area and coat my body in suntan lotion.

Standing in front of the dresser mirror, I twist my hair in my fingers then roll it into a knot and slide through a clip. The bikini fits perfectly, it’s classy and, well, hot. But I close my eyes so I can’t see myself. I can’t go out there half naked.
Christ, Williams is a client. There are eight crew.
I’m not uncomfortable in my skin but that’s a lot of people who don’t need to see my semi-naked body.

Shaking my head fast, I blow a dry raspberry with my lips.
Suck it up, Scarlett.

Amanda is sprawled on her back, head tilted, chin to the sky. Williams is also on a lounger reading a hardback, bare chested, legs pulled up, a full glass of wine on a small rattan table next to him. My perfect man is at the bow of the yacht, his torso bare, and so damn delicious I’m wet just thinking about those muscles moving against my body. He hangs up his Blackberry when he notices me walking the deck towards him.

Over the low guitars of Oasis, I catch his words. “Get here.”

Dropping my book and floppy hat to a sun lounger, I go to him. He yanks me the last foot by the small of my back, pulling me against his pelvis.

“If you intend to wear that, you better get in that water. Right. Now.”

Biting my bottom lip, I push my hips slightly forward, adding pressure to his growing erection. “Looks like you have a bit of a problem, handsome.”

“You think it’s funny that you’ve made my dick solid in swim shorts?”

“Not funny. Sexy as hell.” I push my hips a little further and he brushes his lips across mine, growling into my mouth.

“Water. Now.”

I squeal as he lifts me from my feet, leaving my flip-flops behind, and propels us off the side of the boat. He holds me to him, my back, my head. He doesn’t let go as we crash into the water. We kick, both breaking the surface on a deep inhale. Then we laugh. I pause for a second just to hear him, then start up again.

“What the hell? Are you two okay?” Amanda screams over the side of the yacht.

I hold up a hand to say we’re fine as Gregory pulls me into him. I lock my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck as he paddles for us both.

“Did that cool your raging cock, Mr. Ryans?”

“Watch those expletives, lady. And no. It made my thunder cock angrier.”

“Thunder cock?” I raise an eyebrow with a giggle.

“I want to fuck you. Now. In the sea. I can’t get enough of you.”

I sigh and lean back in his arms, my head grazing the water. “Gregory, I’m going to be your wife. I need you to stop objectifying me. When we’re married, I think we should have a routine. Maybe sex on Saturdays. I need to know you respect me for me, not my body.”

“Sex on Saturdays?”

“Okay, Saturday and maybe once on a Sunday morning. It’s important that we have boundaries.”

“Lady, I respect you. And I would like to help you with your self-esteem issues. Really, I would. But I think the best way for me to do that would be to make you understand how desperate I am to come inside you. All the fucking time. And how I love to hear you scream my name when I drive you to orgasm. How your insides squeeze my cock.”

I shuffle in his arms as my body responds to his words. Wanton.

“And the way you shove those wonderful breasts in my face when I make you hot for me in the sea.”

My eyes fly open as he bites my plump flesh through my bikini.

“I’m going to fuck your tits later and I’m going to come all over this fine chest. And when I do, you can think to yourself,
I deserve that for winding up my man
.”

I giggle but it’s short lived. His fingers move into my bikini bottoms then into my sex. My body responds on reflex, thrusting into his chest. He frees himself from his shorts with one hand, holding me with the other. I move my bikini bottoms to the side and guide him to my entrance. He loosens his hold enough for me to slide onto him and pull breath through my teeth as his tip strokes the bundle of nerves only his thick, long length has ever reached.

I glance up to the yacht, satisfied that no one is paying us any attention. “This could be tricky,” I say with a smirk.

“You might have to do the work, gorgeous.”

“Gladly.” I roll my hips and nip his lip.

His kiss takes me by surprise, long, slow, like he’s cherishing every second. I close my eyes and savour the feeling. Absorbed in him. His touch, his words, his tongue, the feeling of rightness between my thighs. We move slowly, discreetly, the sun beating down around us, the sea ripples glistening. He holds me, moaning, brushing his lips against mine in a way that leaves no space for me to doubt his love and adoration. The thought flips my stomach because his actions reflect my own mind. An overwhelming sense of love, complete physical and emotional love, emulates through me. I lean forward and bite his shoulder to prevent my body from externally erupting as my climax comes. He drops his head to my neck, biting and groaning quietly as he fills me with his physical desire.

“This is perfect,” I mumble into his shoulder.

He strokes my hair and hums against my neck, then drops his lips to my cheek. “You’re beautiful when you’re happy.” His eyes change, a switch that’s completely ordinary for Gregory but a move that I don’t want to see in our paradise. “I want to always make you happy.”

Shifting slightly, I meet his eyes. “What is it?”

He shakes his head. “Nada.”

“Oh no, Gregory Ryans, don’t you dare. That’s the same look you had when you were on the phone just before. What is it?”

“Baby, nothing to worry about.”

I sit up and try to unravel my body from his but he holds my legs around his waist.

“Please don’t keep things from me. I thought we got past this. Everything that’s gone wrong with us is because you’ve kept things from me. If we’re going to be a team, Gregory, you have to share things with me. That’s what the big rock is supposed to mean, isn’t it? That you want us to be a team?”

“Now that you mention it, where is the big rock?”

“It’s in the safe, I didn’t want to wear it to frolic in the sea with you.”

“That’s what we’re doing, baby, frolicking?”

“Stop changing the subject, Gregory.”

Any semblance of playfulness disappears.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. Clearly that ring doesn’t mean as much as I hoped.” I kick back from him and start a front crawl to the boat.

“Hey.” He pulls my left hand back before I can lift it over my head. “What have I told you about that attitude?” He drags me back to his waist.

“Tell me.”

He sighs. “I’m fixing it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“One of the tabloids has found out about my case.”

My brow furrows. “Your non-case. It’s over, you weren’t charged. Am I missing the point?”

He drops his forehead to mine and paddles so we turn in a circle. “I paid off most of the broadsheets and big corporate papers at the time. Sydney in PR thought that someone might have talked, given the level of sudden media attention.”

“So this is a regional?”

“Yes, a regional tabloid, which means I don’t have a settlement in place restricting what they print.”

“So you’re going to have to pay them off?” Guilt kicks me in the gut as I speak. Another reality check. I put him in this situation. He’s paying for my actions. “Gregory, I’d like to fix this. Before you jump in and say no, I’ll have the money from the house in a couple of weeks. You’ve paid enough. This was my doing. Let me fix it.”

He cups my face in his hands. “Baby, you didn’t bring this on us. I did. And I would never let you pay for my past. But you’re amazing for wanting to.”

“There’s no ‘I’ in team, right? What’s yours is mine and all. I think we can call it
our
mistake and
our
past now. I want all of you, Gregory Ryans, past, present and future. And let me tell you something else, I’d do it again. I’d do anything for you. Even go Dutch on paying off the tabloids.”

“How did I find you?”

“You were supposed to.”

He smiles as he hooks his hands under my thighs and propels me out of the water squealing. He’s laughing when I surface, rubbing hair and salt water from my eyes. “You’re going to pay for that, Ryans.”

Chapter Thirteen

“We’ll see you on the aeroplane beach around five or six?” I ask, dropping a kiss to Gregory through the window of the rental Porsche.

“By the aeroplane beach you realise you mean Maho Beach?”

I scowl. “Did you understand what I meant? Then don’t be an arsehole.” He chuckles as Williams climbs into the passenger seat. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“No, baby, it’s just a catch up with a business acquaintance, not deal specific. Go. Enjoy your day with Amanda. I’ll see you later. And please be careful.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” I ask, pulling my Bvlgaris down and winking over the frame.

“Have fun in your business meeting boys, we’ll just be, you know, shopping, sunbathing.” Amanda waves a hand in her floral spaghetti-strap all-in-one, the kind of wave I know will grate on Gregory’s nerve endings.

“You be careful with my little man in the sun,” Williams calls in a way that makes me smile fondly, first at him, then at Amanda’s hardly-there bump.

“
She
and I will be just fine. Aunty Scar will look after us.” She giggles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I wave one hand and pull Amanda into my side with the other. “Just the three of us, then.”

Gregory and Williams dropped us on the French side of the island. Shopping is number one on the agenda, followed by a royal binge on French pastries, then Aeroplane or Maho or whatever beach for sunbathing and plane spotting.

We wander the quiet, clean, Parisian-feeling streets, dipping in and out of boutiques, more for air-con than shopping. We stumble across a market at the water’s edge. A ream of stalls selling towels, neckties, scarves, kaftans. I wrap half a dozen sarongs around my strapless cotton dress and decide to buy two—one sky blue chiffon with shells draped from the hem, the other black and white spotted. Amanda is bartering over two very similar neckties. With one instinctively protective eye on her, I look around the photo frames, decorated shells, playing cards and such on the tables.

“Can we eat?” Amanda asks, lifting her thick red hair off her neck.

“Of course. Do you want a hair tie?”

“Please. Gosh, I’m frying.”

“I think that’s enough shopping for you.”

I lead Amanda to a cute bakery near the spot the gents dropped us. “It’s nice to have some time just us,” I say, placing a basket of various pastries—almond, cinnamon and raisin, all butter, chocolate—and two glasses of fresh orange on the white cotton cloth covering the wicker table.

“Sure is. I can’t believe you’re engaged!”

“Pretty crazy, isn’t it? You pregnant, me engaged.”

“When did we grow up?”

We laugh and each take a pastry, me moaning around an almond croissant, Amanda practically making love to a pain au chocolat. Her auburn locks are glowing in the sunlight and it’s nothing to do with pregnancy, she’s as beautiful as she always has been.

“You and Williams seem to be doing well.”

She nods but purses her lips. “We’re good in that we agree we want to be together. And he already loves the little mite. My pops has started to hate him less about the whole baby, unwed, will he or won’t he stay thing.”

“But.”

“But he won’t touch me, Scarlett. He says he doesn’t want to hurt the baby but I’m like a raging bag of pissed off hormones twenty-four seven and all I want him to do is give me a bloody good seeing to. Lord knows he can.” She pats her tummy and I can’t help but giggle.

“Have you told him?”

“Yes. No. I’ve tried. I don’t...we’re not...what if it’s not about the baby? What if it’s me and he doesn’t find me attractive? I’m bloating. I’m irritable. Whoever said this pregnancy malarkey makes you feel wonderful was either a man or talking complete bollocks.”

I practically snort my orange juice. My amusement is short-lived when I realise that my best friend in the whole world, confident, strong, gorgeous Amanda, is doubting herself. “Gosh, Mand, you’ve got to be kidding. Williams has had eyes for you since that first night in the bar. He’s absolutely into you. Have you thought that maybe this is just a big change for you both and he’s scared?”

“But that doesn’t mean he can’t have sex.”

I laugh again and Amanda chuckles with me, her hands resting on her mini-bump. “Maybe, maybe you could try to be non-pregnant Amanda, too?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing bad. Just, I think it’s possible you’re playing up some because you’re scared. If you just had an honest conversation with him, didn’t try to be tough and didn’t try to mask how you’re feeling, he might open up.”

She swipes up the cinnamon and raisin swirl and takes an enormous bite. “You’re right.”

“It’s okay to be nervous.”

She stuffs the last of the swirl in her mouth. “How come you got so sensible?”

“I’ve always been sensible. You just used to call it boring.”

“I wouldn’t call you boring now. At it all night, shagging in the sea.”

I gasp.

“Oh, please, I’m impressed. Give Gregory credit where it’s due, the man’s an animal. I’ve never been taken all night like—”

“Christ, alright! I didn’t think you could hear.”

“Couldn’t hear you screaming the yacht into submission?”

My cheeks flush. “I’m sorry. And I didn’t think you knew we did the
thing
in the sea.”

She leans forward and takes my orange juice, finishing it and standing the empty glass next to hers. “I didn’t, until you just said you did. It’s hardly helping my hormone situation knowing you two are at it like rabbits.”

“Alright, enough, I’m paying the bill and you should try booking into a hotel.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. At least I’d get some sleep.”

With my face burning red, I head to the counter and pay.

* * *

“Here good?” I ask for the fifth time, losing the will to live after trudging the length of Maho Beach.

Amanda plods on in her sandals. Suddenly, finally, she stops, lowers her shades to the tip of her nose and declares, “Here’s great.”

I follow her gaze to an incoming bartender.
Very
Amanda. His board shorts are the full length of his long thighs. His biceps are firm and exposed in his Billabong vest. His yellow-frame sports shades look pretty damned cool. Amanda slides her tongue along her bottom lip and moves one hand to her hip, waiting for him to walk over.

“Ladies.” His accent is undecipherable, like he’s well-travelled, his manner is easy. “Can I set you up on a bed and get you some drinks?”

Amanda unties and shakes her long hair down her back.
Jesus, she really is horny.

I step between them. “Yes, please. We’ll take two loungers with a parasol and my friend will have a sparkling water. Because she’s pregnant. With someone else’s baby.”

“You’re a surrogate?” he asks, completely serious.

“That’s not what I—”

“Yes. I’m a surrogate. They’re an amazing couple, the people I’m carrying for. They’ve climbed every peak in the world. He’s a doctor and—”

“It’s her baby,” I say, looking at Amanda with scrunched brows and wondering what in the hell she’s doing.

“Oh, for God’s sake, fine. I’m pregnant and it’s my baby and I do want a sparkling water.”

“I’m Jake.” The guy holds out his hand and Amanda’s pout fades away. “Nice to meet you. Let’s get you set up on these beds.”

He pulls two white loungers closer together, lays a bed cushion on each, then takes our beach towels when we hand them to him and drapes them across the beds.

“You want me to put the parasol up?”

“Yes please,” I confirm. It’s two in the afternoon and still far too hot for sunbathing exposed.

“The beds are twenty-five dollars and you get five free drinks. One sparkling water and what can I get for you ah...”

“Scarlett. I’ll take a diet Coke if you have one.”

“My arse you will!” Amanda snaps up from her already horizontal position on her lounger. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here forced to drink sparkling water and you’re going to drink a bloody diet Coke when there’s no need.”

“Rum punch?” Jake asks, his eyebrow raised.

“Looks like it.”

Peeling my white dress from my hot skin exposes my blue-and-white-striped bandeau bikini. After folding the dress onto the end of the lounger, I lie back with a contented sigh.

“It feels good to lie down,” Amanda says, turning her head to face me on her parallel lounger. “I’ve felt like I’ve been on the boat all morning. Kind of dizzy drunk without the hangover.”

“Gosh, this is nice, isn’t it?” The question is rhetorical. Of course it’s bloody nice, it’s thirty degrees and dry. I’m lounging with my best friend, people watching. Tens, maybe even hundreds, of people line the beach, waiting for the show of aeroplanes flying just feet from our heads to land on the airstrip right behind the beach. And I’m getting married. Christ, I’m not just getting married, I’m getting married to Mr. Super Sexy Bazillionaire Ryans.

How far we’ve come in such a short space of time.

I’ve never needed a man and in just over four months, I’ve realised that I don’t just
need
a man, there’s one I absolutely can’t stand to be without.

There are things lingering, things that make me uneasy. Katrina Martin being number one. Tabloids that shouldn’t be interested in Gregory now that the case is old news, two. There’s some unfinished business, for sure, but things are changing, I think. He told me about the tabloids and not
months
after it happened, only
hours
.
He’s trying to let me in. Hopefully, in time, it will all become a distant memory. His nightmares will stop and the pain of his past will get easier.

“Don’t tell him or anything, Scarlett, but the billionaire is starting to grow on me. He really loves you doesn’t he?”

My lips break into an unstoppable grin and I shrug.

Jake returns with a punch that looks more rum than juice but I take the brownish-redish-orangey drink from him and sip through the straw. “Jesus Christ! Is there
any
juice in there?”

He plonks onto the bottom of my lounger and hands Amanda her water. “Orange, cranberry and pineapple. It’s like a fine wine, it takes three sips. Trust me.”

I scowl across my plastic cup as I take another sip. “I’ve only just met you.”

“But...”

I stare at the now half full cup. “Well, I guess it is quite fruity after a few sips.”

“That’s my kind of woman. I’ll fetch another.”

I don’t argue. I’m parched, it’s fruity, and with the combination of sun and only having had pastries for lunch, it’s really making my head pleasantly fluttery.

Punch two down, Jake heads back over with a virgin pina colada for Amanda and punch three for me. “Alright, ladies, this is it. There’s a 747 headed in. Do you see it over there in the distance?”

We both nod, spotting the faint lights of the aeroplane twinkling in the clear blue sky, making a beeline for the beach. Jake switches my empty punch for the full and I suck a mouthful through my straw. “Mmm, yummy.”

“This is the plane all you tourists flock for. She’s the most powerful and the biggest to land on the strip so she gets pretty close. Do you have a camera?”

I nod, sipping my rum-laced juice or juice-laced rum. Whichever.

“If you stand right there you’ll get a great picture. If you stand in the middle of the beach you can really feel the force of the engines as she lands but it can get pretty dangerous, bowls people over, right back into the sea. I’ve seen it carry sunbeds and pushchairs into the water, so, ah, given your current physical state...” he nods to Amanda’s tummy, receiving a huffy exhale in return, “... I’d suggest you keep your distance.”

“Why do the planes get so close if it’s that dangerous?” Amanda asks.

“Well, there are warning signs all over the beach. See on the railings back there? It’s pretty cool to watch. You see, the runway is short for the size of planes coming in.” He points to the airfield abutting the beach. “The pilots have to land right on the start line to make sure they stop before the end. That means the planes have to come in low to touch down and you never really appreciate how fast they’re falling when you’re inside but you’ll see now. Here she comes.”

We sit upright on our loungers, our legs straddling the sides of the bed. I finally let go of my punch, turning the plastic cup in the sand until it stands unaided. Then I take out my camera and brace myself as the 747 comes drifting in.

“Holy shit!” Amanda says, pulling down her shades to the tip of her nose, her eyes following the belly of the plane.

Holding up my digital, I snap away at the aeroplane until my head is leaning back to look up at the giant metal bird. Jake wasn’t lying, people daring enough to stand in the middle of the beach, directly under the plane’s path, are clinging onto the railings. Hats fly, hair blows back, a young girl loses her grip and her footing.

“Wow, that’s incredible.”

“Told ya,” Jake says with a smug smile. “Another?”

I shake my head fast. “No. I really shouldn’t, these three have already gone to my head.”

“They should,” he laughs. “They’re free-poured measures.”

“Urgh, if I wasn’t pregnant I’d—”

“Oh, God, enough already. Bring me another please, Jake.”

“On it,” he laughs.

After four virgin drinks for the pregnant lady and four free-poured, rocket-fuel rum punches for me, we find ourselves in the warm sea. Amanda twirls herself away from me, bending her legs to a sitting position.

“Tell me you’re not.” I hold a hand over my mouth but my tipsy giggle escapes regardless. “You’re taking a pee, aren’t you?”

She chuckles. “Well, I am now you’ve made me laugh.”

“That’s rubbish. You’ve twirled away from me to pee. Have you even moved your bikini to one side?”

“There’s no need,” she says, her pose telling me she’s mid-flow. “It’ll just dilute right out.”

“Oh, hell, I hope I’m not down current of that.”

She’s laughing again, practically falling over herself in the sea. “Pee is sterile.”

“Thanks all the same but I think I’ll take germs over being peed on.”