Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds (25 page)

“Is this what you need, baby?” His breath is hot on my sensitive skin.

I can hardly speak. “Yes.”

“Say it. Tell me what you need.”

“You. I need you.”

He sucks hard on my clit, his groan vibrating against me.

“Please.” I don’t even know why the word leaves my mouth but it does.

He pushes his fingers into me and I roll my head against the back of the sofa as my body lifts to a crescendo. His fingers move in circles, my body tensing each time he strokes my wall. My head clouds from my erratic breaths until I think I might pass out. His spare hand moves to my breast, squeezing hard as he sucks my clit again and I come undone.

He stands and pulls off his jeans but when he crawls between my legs, I put my hands in his hair and lift him towards me.

“Let me taste you.” I stare at his angry cock and lick my lips at the thought of him in my mouth.

He yanks my hips further down the sofa then kneels across me, his shins either side of my hips, his erection level with my mouth. Keeping my eyes on him, I take him in my hands first, working his sack and the base of his shaft.

He pants, his hips rolling forward. “Let me feel your mouth around me, baby.”

I move my tongue up his length and around the tip. When a low growl leaves his chest, I wrap my mouth around him, sliding down him to meet my hand then drawing back to the tip. I work him until he loses control. His hands drop to the back of the sofa and he moves back and forth, fucking my mouth as I stay still, accepting him, ready for his release. He’s close, I can feel him thicken in my mouth and taste his juice. Then he pulls out.

He takes us to the floor, turning me forward on my knees as he does, my hands braced on the sofa. He pushes my thighs further apart and drives into my drenched sex.

“Fuck! That’s the best feeling.”

He fucks me—rough, hard, thoroughly.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Where’s Gregory?” Williams asks as we ride the lift to the twenty-eighth floor and my new office.

“Truth or the business lie?”

“Erm, truth?” he says, playfully uncertain.

“Beautifying and pruning this morning.”

Williams chuckles and rolls his eyes but something tells me he has similar appointments and it’s not only his perfectly manicured nails.

“Then he has a brunch and I think he’s working from home after that.”

“Can’t blame him, it’s rough being massaged and cleansed.”

The lift pings at 28 and Williams leads me to my office, as instructed by Gregory, despite the fact I already know where it is.

“You really don’t have to babysit me, Williams.”

“Oh, I do. Trust me, it’s not worth my life.”

We’re both laughing when Williams opens the door to my new office.

“Scarlett!” Sue jumps from behind the desk. “I was just getting things ready for you.”

Someone has had far too much caffeine.

“Thank you, Sue, the place looks great.” I look around the large, bright space. She’s hung my certificates on the walls—undergraduate degree, legal practice course, masters. She’s set my Mont Blanc pen neatly to one side of my keyboard.

A large arrangement of two dozen roses decorates the table in the corner of the room. I smile before I open the card.

Welcome to Team Gregory.

Have a great first day, baby.

xxx

“Scarlett, Sue is your PA now,” Williams says, reclaiming my attention.

“It’s a trial,” Sue jumps in, suddenly making apparent why she’s so jittery. “If I do anything you don’t like, if you want me to do anything differently, just say so.”

“We’ve left her role fairly fluid,” Williams explains. “We thought it would be best if you tell Sue what support you need and what you expect from her.”

“Okay, that sounds sensible. Perhaps we could go for lunch today, Sue, my treat. I’ll have had a look around the systems by then and we can discuss how we’ll work together. Sound good?”

“Perfect. Excellent. Yes. Wonderful.” She turns to leave the office, her floral skirt swishing as she moves.

“Step number one is to convince her to drink less coffee,” I say to Williams once Sue is firmly out of earshot. “Before you go, I’m going to throw Amanda a baby shower. Not yet, of course, but I want to get a date in diaries. Could you send me a list of any people from your side who I should invite? I’m thinking afternoon tea at the Savoy.”

“You know her well. Expensive indulgence and an afternoon that revolves around Amanda. She’ll love it.” There’s no malice in his words, just good humour. “I’ll think about it and drop you an email.”

“Thanks, Williams, and thanks for this morning.”

* * *

My mind wanders far too often to Gregory, as if being in his glass tower somehow makes him ever present. The jury is definitely out on whether this move is a good idea. What’s harder is knowing that he’s willing to have me in his office.

Concentrate.

I focus on the latest draft of the joint venture agreement with Shangzen Tek, which Shangzen’s lawyer emailed during the night. Between that, first day IT hiccups, a stream of questions from Amanda in relation to Mr. Ghurair, and a two hour lunch with Sue, I already have a backlog of emails.

I’m sifting through confirmations from external counsel about the progress made in the challenges against Nick Henshaw when there’s a tap on my office door.

“Come in.”

Sue appears wearing a pink wool coat that reaches her knees, Wellington boots—which I hope are a product of her having read the forecast and known it was going to be heavy rain out, rather than a fashion statement—and a cream wool hat with a big pink and purple flower on front. She looks like a giant child but there’s something pure and delicate about her. I know the type very well, although I never used to dress like that.

“I’m heading off now. Well, unless you need anything. Then I’m happy to stay.”

I turn to the two walls of windows forming an L-shape around me and realise the winter darkness is already set in and rain drops decorate the glass panes. In the reflection, I see Stuart, now standing in the doorway behind Sue.

“No, I’m good, you head off.”

“Thank you. Oh, and Mr. Culliton has come to see you. Is it okay?” I have to suppress my laugh as Stuart points to himself then the office floor as if to say,
I’m already here.

“Yes, fine, thank you, Sue. Have a lovely evening and I’ll see you tomorrow. Come in, Stuart. Take a seat.”

He sits into one of two leather and chrome chairs opposite my desk with his coat and tie in his hand. The top button of his blue-and-white-striped shirt is undone and his hair is ruffled like it’s been a long day.

“I just wanted to return the favour,” he says. “You came to see how I was settling in and it was nice of you.” He shrugs. “You were one of the few people who made me feel welcome, so I wanted to make sure I did the same for you.” He smiles but his eyes remain a mystery.

“Thank you. That’s sweet of you. It’s been a long day and I dare say I’ll be here for a while yet but I’m getting there. I think I’ve cracked the systems now.”

He nods and turns his head around the room, his eyes fixing momentarily on the bunch of roses then turning back to me. “Are they from Gregory?”

“Ah, yes, they are.”

“Do you think he’s a good man?” he asks bizarrely. I feel my brows furrow and there’s a wash of realisation on his face.

“He is a good man. The best. He can seem a little uptight at work but give him a chance.”

“Of course.” Stuart nods again, seemingly contemplative. “Are you working on my game?” He inclines his head to the open file of papers in front of me.

“Er, yes, I am.”

“So did you stop Nick using the game?”

My head snaps up to meet his.

“Gregory told me,” he adds quickly.

He did?

“Yes. We did,” I say, wondering when that conversation took place and hoping Gregory hasn’t taken out his temper over the whole thing on Stuart again. He swore on his mother’s life he knows nothing about the trouble.

Stuart takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for longer than a blink. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Scarlett.”

“I know. Don’t worry. We’ll fix it.”

He drags a hand through his hair and slowly rolls his body to stand, looking tired and every inch his nineteen years.

“Have you got plans?” I ask, in a bid to improve his mood.

“No,” he snaps, making me regret the effort. “I don’t really know anyone here,” he adds, in a softer tone. “Microwave meal and biltong for one.”

“We’ll go out sometime. I can introduce you to some people.”

“Thanks but you’re a little old for me, Scarlett.”

My jaw drops open but I’m laughing, happy because finally he’s smiling. “Get out, right now!”

He pauses at the door and turns back to me. “Listen, Scarlett, if...” He stares at the new Blackberry on my desk then down at his feet. “Have a good night.”

“You, too.”

I dim the lights once Stuart leaves, the glare of my computer screen becoming too much against the darkness surrounding the glass office. It’s deathly silent, the entire floor desolate. Perfect for reading and drafting.

I didn’t realise the door hadn’t closed behind Stuart until a dark shadow in my peripheral vision makes me jump and squeal.

“Shit! Paul. You scared the life out of me.”

“Sorry, Scarlett.” He steps into the office in his janitor get-up. He looks bigger than he did just a few weeks ago. He’s eating. “I call in to see Gregory on Mondays, if he’s around. Just, you know, to check in. I like him to see I’m on track.”

“It’s good to see you,” I say as my heart rate returns to normal. “How’s everything going?”

“Good. Really good. Great in fact. I feel like I’ve been thrown a lifeline, you know, and I’m going to make the most of it.”

“Good for you. Well, Gregory isn’t in the office today but I can let him know you called by and you’re not slacking.” I throw him a smile.

“On that note, there are floors to be mopped. I guess I’ll see you around now you’re working here?”

“Sure will.”

I get back to my emails. A two-page rant has dropped into my inbox from Shangzen’s lawyer, trying to negotiate what I’ve already told him is a deal breaker for GJR. I’m immersed in the detail of a reply when my Blackberry rings and this time when I jump, I crash my knee off the underside of my desk.
Bastard, that hurt.

I look at the screen, which is pointless because I haven’t programmed any numbers into the phone yet.

“Scarlett Heath.”

“Scarlett, it’s Stuart. I left my fob on my desk. Could you come down to the ground floor and let me in?”

“Erm, yes, sure. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Urgh, I’ll never get anything done.

It’s dark and cold waiting for the lift and I wish I’d pulled on my suit jacket, my blouse and skirt doing nothing to fend off the overzealous air conditioning. As I step into the lift my Blackberry rings again. This time I recognise the number as Gregory’s but my signal cuts out as the lift doors close. By the time I reach the subdued lighting of the ground floor, I have a message announcing a voicemail.

Stuart is outside on the pavement on the other side of the glass doors, his shoulders hunched in the rain. A black limousine is parked by the curb, which strikes me as odd—not uncommon in London but unusual for this part of the city. My heels click on the marble floor as I wave to Paul, in full mopping mode, and hold my phone to my ear.

“Scarlett.” Gregory’s voice sounds panicked on the message. I step into the revolving door. “Stay at the office. I’m on my way. It’s Stuart. He’s involved.”

I drop the phone as I come face to face with Stuart.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

I’m yanked backwards.

A hand covers my mouth.

Everything goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gregory

I pull the Lamborghini to a screeching halt outside my office block and fly through the revolving glass door.

“Gregory! Someone took her. They took her!”

“Who? What? Where is she?” I skid to stop in front of Paul, the tramp I hired to stop Scarlett feeding hobos she didn’t know.

“I don’t know. There was a kid, the new one from the twenty-third floor. He was outside. I think she was going to him. Then another guy pulled her. Put something over her head. They put her in a car and they left.”

My gut falls to the floor. My heart races. There’s no air in my lungs.

“Greg!”

Jackson bursts into the building and I’ve never been so fucking dependent on him for my next move.

“Trina was here. They took Scarlett. Three of them. My guys tailed as far as they could but they lost them. They must have switched cars.”

I bite the knuckles of my clenched fist and fight the anger and grief that’s tearing me up. “Jackson, what the fuck do we do?”

“We go home, kid. We get the team together. We fuckin’ find her.”

I rub my hands roughly up and down my face then shake my head. “No. Now. We have to go now.”

“Greg, we don’t know where she is. I know how much you want to lash out. You need to keep your cool.” He’s calmer now, trying to rationalise things.

I feel like I’m outside my fucking body, watching myself break down. My eyes are on fire. “Jackson.” It’s all I can say.

“We’ll find her.”

I can’t lose her. A silent bullet cuts through my chest. I ball my fist and scream out, punching the door of the lift. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against the cold metal, thumping the side of my fist against the door, over and over.

“Greg, every second we waste she gets further away.”

He’s right. Pull yourself together. For her.

I rub my face roughly one more time. “Bring him,” I growl, pointing to Paul as I charge out of the building and tear away from the curb in the Lamborghini. As I burn through the dark streets, swerving through traffic, ignoring red lights, I look for her, knowing I won’t find her. Twice I fight back the start of crushing tears.

“Scarlett,” I mumble into the empty car.

Jackson must drive like a maniac too because he pulls into the basement right behind me. We ride the lift together and by the time we hit the apartment, Jackson’s security team are already there and I’ve got my head straight enough to listen to Paul.

I roll up the sleeves of my white shirt and unfasten another button at the neck, then I crank up the air-con. I pace the floor of the lounge as Jackson gets everything he needs out of Paul, vaguely aware of other conversations going on in the room. I know they’re doing everything they can and I’m so fucking grateful for Jackson right now.

“He was about Gregory’s build. Older. Jeans and a polo. He looked, normal, you know,” Paul says.

“Nick Henshaw,” I bite.

Jackson nods. “The guys are pooling everything we’ve got on Trina, Stuart and Nick. Ken is looking for any links to places they might’ve taken her.”

That’s the reality. He’s said it himself, we’ve got no fucking idea where she is. I swear to God, if they touch her. If Nick Henshaw lays a fucking finger on her...

I pick up the first thing I can get my hands on. A crystal decanter. I launch it at the wall with a wail that sounds more like an animal than me, and it shatters, glass and liquor spraying out across the floor.

There are seven other men in the room and they all turn to look at me. “Fucking find her!”

“Greg, get it together, kid,” Jackson says. “We need you with us. Get a drink and pull your shit together.”

I sit onto the edge of the sofa and drop my head into my hands.
Come on, Greg, take control. Take. Fucking. Control.
Put her out of your head. It’s a game. One big fucking game. Come to the fucking table. I drag air through my teeth and do as Jackson says, I take a bottle of Scotch from the kitchen, swig a mouthful to take the edge off and get ready to play the man.

Two of the guys are on the phone, one of them is Ken. One guy in khakis and a black hoody and built like a brick shit house is on a computer with devices and wires all around his space at the dining table, all connected and linked into the monitor. The other two guys are with Jackson and Paul and they’re in the lounge now, papers spread out in front of them.

“Get Barnes,” I say, eyeing Jackson as I approach them. “If Katrina Martin is involved, she’s looking for a story. She wants the bribes. If Scarlett’s got any sense, she’ll give me up.”

“She won’t do that,” Jackson says, and damn that girl, I hope he’s wrong but I know he’s right.

I nod, not wanting to accept his truth. “She might not talk.”

Jackson stands from the sofa. “Or she’ll do what she thinks is right, she’ll do what you and I both know she’ll do.”

“She’ll confess.”

Jackson nods now. “I’ll get Barnes in.”

“Get his team, Jackson, not just him.”

“Greg, not the bobbies. That’s the wrong move.”

“Jackson.” My words sound defeatist. “Get them. I don’t care about the bribes, I don’t care about me. Get everyone we can. I’ll take whatever comes. Just find her.”

He slaps my arm. “Alright.”

I’m listening, taking in what the team are doing and trying to think logically. Ken shouts us over to the dining table and starts spreading documents. This is everything we have on Stuart Culliton. He pulls up a still on his computer of Stuart and Trina from tonight. The photograph that one of Jackson’s guys emailed to us earlier. A CCTV still taken near my office block that told us Stuart was mixed up with Trina in some way. The image that made me call Scarlett, too late.

The intercom buzzes and I let Jackson deal with it, thinking it’ll be Barnes, but when I turn towards the door, Sandy comes hurtling at me, her arms flailing, landing blows on my face, my chest. Christ, I let her. I deserve it. I failed Scarlett. I failed them both.

“You did this,” she cries. “Ever since she met you. This is your fault. You find my little girl. You find her.”

Jackson moves towards Sandy but I hold up my hand, telling him to stay back, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my chest, accepting two more blows until she relents and breaks down against me. She’s the only other person in the world who has any idea how I feel right now. “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll find her, Sandy. If it’s the last thing I do. I’ll give my life to have her back. I won’t stop. I’ll find her so help me fucking God.”

Lawrence and Williams are here and ask Jackson what they can do. There’s so much commotion I almost didn’t notice my mother. Now I do, and she’s staring at the image of Stuart and Trina on the computer screen, walking towards it with her hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes.

“What is this?” Her words are barely audible. Then she screams. “What is this?”

“It’s two of the kidnappers,” Jackson says.

I flinch at the use of the word but it’s right, that’s what’s happened. Tonight, the woman I can’t live without has been kidnapped.

“Stuart? He—”

I leave Sandy and run to my mother, twisting her by the shoulders, shaking her. “You know who that is?”

Tears stream her face. “Yes.”