Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds (28 page)

“So what’s your end?”

“You tell me the truth. You tell me about the bribes, confess the truth. When Gregory turns up, I arrest Nick. Make this whole thing look like him. Then you, me and Gregory go to the station. I win my case. I get my job back. I get the respect I deserve and your boyfriend gets the justice he deserves.”

I want to tell her I don’t know anything. I want to keep my promise to Gregory, but she’s offering his life. If I give her the bribes, he loses his freedom. If I give her me, she gets her arrest. She gets her grand finale and Gregory is free. Finally. The little boy from my dreams can move out of the shadows.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Relief. Excitement. Terror. The mix of emotions sends my adrenal glands into overdrive, making my body sweat. My heart rate increases to the point that I can feel it throbbing in my head. The sound of tyres driving across uneven surface makes me want to fight, protect him.

“That’s your man,” Trina says with a sardonic grin.

Gregory is here, coming to do what’s necessary to get me out, risking his life. I don’t know if Stuart got to him. I don’t know if he knows what to expect. All I do know, is that he’s following Nick’s instructions and there’s a good chance he could pay for my life with his own.

“Time is running out, Scarlett. I can stop this. Put an end to it for all of us.”

I hear a car door open and close. Then another. I will not let him die.

“Do it. Please, Trina. I’m begging you. Stop it.”

“You know what you have to do, Scarlett. Just say the words.”

I lift my head to the window. I can’t see anything, only concrete. My breathing becomes erratic and beads of sweat form on my brow.

“It was me. God damn it, Trina. There was no bribe. Gregory was protecting
me
.
I
killed his father.
I
killed Kevin Pearson.”

She stands quickly and takes her gun in her right hand. She clicks off the safety and points it right between my eyes. She squeezes her eyes shut as I sit, paralysed.

“Liar. You’re a fucking liar!”

She opens her eyes, her hand shaking, her finger braced on the trigger. With the base of her other hand she thumps her temple.

“You’re a lying fucking bitch!” She slams the gun across my face so hard I spit blood to the concrete.

Then there’s a bang. A bang so loud it echoes in the room and vibrates deep in the drum of my ears. It’s a shot and it didn’t come from inside this room.

I fall from the chair to my knees. “Gregory!” I scream his name over and over.

Trina charges from the room, leaving the door wide open, her gun braced in both hands. “Fuck! Fuck!”

There are cars, shouting voices, sirens, commotion. I have to go. I have to go to him.

I stagger to my feet, my legs buckling at first. With my bound hands, I pull myself up to stand and break free from the room. The corridor is dark and damp. I use the wall to help me move, leaning into it with my shoulder.

Another shot.

Please, God, no.

The grey sky of outside is much brighter than the room I’ve been held in. I can hear voices, frantic voices, swearing, screaming but I can’t see. I have to squint but my legs keep moving forward until they reach something. I open my eyes to see feet on the ground. Time stands still as the feet slowly move. Gasps of air. Groans. I’m looking at the body of Katrina Martin.

Her hands are pushed tightly into her abdomen. Her face is grey and pained. Blood is pooling around her back, a sea of thick burgundy flowing out of her.

“Scarlett!”

“Scarlett!”

Voices shout. More than one. Non-distinct in the background as I watch Katrina Martin take her last breath. Her eyes widen. Her legs stop moving. One crimson stained hand falls from her abdomen, landing palm up on the ground.

Squinting through one eye, I look up. There are cars, four, five black cars. D.I. Barnes lowers his gun. Other armed police start to move, making their way towards me. Jackson stands in front of the Mercedes, bent forward, his hands on his knees as if he’s dragging air into his lungs. Two armed police move past him and I follow them to a man on the floor. His legs move but he looks barely alive, his face covered in blood. I grab my chest, reminding my heart to beat. The man is Nick Henshaw.

Then I see him, crawling to his feet by Nick’s beaten body, his white shirt stained with smatters of blood, his face marked.

He’s alive.

My legs give out under me as the world fades to a small black tunnel.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gregory

I think I died three times. When she was taken. When Katrina Martin ran from that building with a loaded gun. When Scarlett fell to the ground.

She’s been scanned, they’ve cleaned her up. The first thing they did in the ambulance was connect her to a drip and give her painkillers for the bruising and cuts around her face and head.

Now, she sleeps.

The pills they gave her took her under almost straight away. Her body was weak, her mind exhausted. She’s been asleep for almost ten hours. Peaceful. Beautiful.

The city is dark beyond the windows of her private room in the hospital. The dim lights displaying the image of her in the glass panes. The hospital bed I’ve put her in.

I raise her delicate hand to my lips and more tears fall, as if there’s an endless stream. I tell her again that I’m sorry.

I promised to protect her. I made that promise to myself in the split second it took to fall in love with her. When I opened the door to my boardroom and thirty years of waiting came to an end. In that moment, I knew there would never be another woman for me. I knew it then. I know it now.

I promised myself each time I fell deeper that I would never hurt her. The moment she stole my breath descending the staircase of Claridge’s in the royal blue gown I bought for her. Her hair was pinned back, her lips red, her eyes alive. Her smile blew me away, like it does every time.

I promised myself when she stepped out of the car at the theatre. When she giggled with happiness because I’d bought tickets to the play she wanted to see. When my heart gave over to her the first time I held her naked body in my hands. Her flawless skin. Her smooth flesh under my fingertips. I told her in the way I kissed her that I would always be hers.

Every conversation we’ve had. Each time she’s made me laugh and pushed through another part of the walls I built around myself years ago. When we stood at the top of Primrose Hill, and, despite the cold, she wanted to stay in our moment. When she read to me
The Count of Monte Cristo
.
When she recited Violetta’s words to me at the opera.
Love me, Alfredo, love me as much as I love you.
I didn’t love her as much as she thought she loved me. I loved her infinitely more. I do still.

I turn her engagement ring around her finger then hold her palm to my cheek. She looked mesmerising the night I asked her to marry me. To be mine, forever. Her hair blowing in the Caribbean breeze. Her hazel-green eyes lighting up as the waves of the ocean danced in her irises. She promised to be by my side for the rest of our lives.

I broke my promise.

I rub the tears from my eyes because I want to see her. Clearly. All of her.

I didn’t just break my promise. I failed to protect her and I brought my darkness to her. I hurt her and I couldn’t make it right. She’s worth so much more. She’s better than that. Better than me.

The thought of her waking is bittersweet. I want to see those eyes that captured my heart. I want to tell her that I love her. But it could be the last time. If she walks away, I won’t blame her, and I won’t chase her.

There’s a soft knock on the door and I turn to see Amanda. “Ed and I are going to get coffee. Do you want one?”

I shake my head because I can’t speak. She turns her lips into a soft smile that I don’t deserve, then gently, quietly closes the door behind her. It reminds me of the other faces behind the wall. I haven’t spoken to my mother since she finally told me the truth. After nineteen years, she told me I have a nephew. Elsa’s child. He came to me. He told me everything, told me where Scarlett was. But I’m not ready to look him in the eye. I’m not ready to talk to either of them and God knows how I’ll cope with any of the things life throws at me if Scarlett leaves.

“I don’t know how to live without you anymore,” I whisper.

Time continues to crawl and I know, with each second, I could be moving closer to the end.

She eventually stirs. Her fingers twitch in my hands. Her shoulder shrugs.

“Scarlett.”

She leans her head to one side and slowly opens her eyes. They widen when they meet mine. Then she turns her head around the room and she winces as painful memories bring her up to date.

This is it. The moment she crushes me. And I can’t hear it. I don’t want to make her say it. I’m terrified she will. I turn my lips into her palm then hold it against my cheek, closing my eyes, trying to box her touch against my skin. My tears roll heavier down my face and her own eyes glaze.

I stand and lean over her, stroking my thumb down the side of her face. Her skin is marked but still soft to touch.

“I’m so sorry,” I cry, breaking down as I press my lips to her forehead. “I couldn’t protect you. I failed you and I’m more sorry than I can tell you. I always will be.”

The rubber seam of the door to the room makes a soft noise as it opens. I close my eyes, holding my lips to her head, wanting one more second. Then I stand and release her hand. Her eyes are full of sadness and the sight rips my heart to shreds. She opens her mouth and for a moment, I feel hope in my stomach. But she doesn’t speak.

“You’re awake, Scarlett,” says the nurse who’s been checking on her every hour. The nurse moves to the bedside and I take a step back, my eyes still focused on exquisite hazel-greens. “Do you know where you are?”

Scarlett watches me as she struggles to respond to the nurse. “Hospital.”

“That’s right. Do you know who I am?”

“A nurse?” she croaks, still fixed on me, watching me take another step backwards.

“Yes, good. Now, I’m just going to ask you to do a few things for me and we’ll get the doctor to come and take a look at you.”

I move my hand to my heart as it breaks in my chest and I mouth to her,
I love you
.

“We’ve patched you up and you have a few stitches but your scans are all clear. You’ve got a mild concussion and you were dehydrated but otherwise yo—”

“Where are you going?”

Her voice freezes me on the spot and I wait for her to end us. End me.

“You don’t have to go, baby,” she says. “Stay. Please.”

The weight falls out of my legs and I feel like I could crash to my knees. She sucks in air quickly and a tear rolls from her clouded eyes. I want so much to wrap her up in my arms and tell her that everything will be okay. I go to her and take her hand.

“I love you.”

God, I love you too, baby. I love you so much.

“All the shit I’ve brought on you. Everything I’ve done to you and you still say that?”

She reaches up and wipes my wet cheek. “You’re the other half of me, Gregory. Whatever life throws at us, we’ll get through it. Together.”

“I’m fucked up, Scarlett, and I
keep
fucking up.”

She nods and half laughs, half sobs. “Yes, you are and you do. You’re also the kindest, smartest, bravest, best man I’ve ever known. Will ever know.”

I hold her face and rest my forehead against hers. “I love you to Pluto and back, Scarlett Heath.”

A half smile creeps onto her lips and those eyes sparkle.

Then I kiss her, holding my lips to hers, floating under the softness of her skin. She kisses me back and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me to her.

“We might have to put the wedding on hold a little while, unless you fancy standing at the altar with the Corpse Bride.”

I chuckle in her hold, my chest bursting.

This is exactly where I’m meant to be and I know, because with her by my side, I’m ten times the man I could otherwise be.

She is my everything.

My reason.

“Aurora,” I whisper.

Epilogue

Five months later

“Scarlett, we’re going to the farm for a weekend, what the hell is in these bags?”

I giggle as I strap my feet into my sandals. “The weather might change. I need clothes for every eventuality.”

“Baby, the only thing you need to prepare for is being naked. A lot.”

I stand from the stairs and tuck my shirt into my skinny jeans before slipping my arms around his waist. “In that case, I should probably take the Mercy corset out of my bag.”

A low growl escapes his chest and he bites the tip of my nose. “You win. The bags can stay.”

“I thought that might change your mind.”

“Let’s go before I take you back up those stairs for a second breakfast.”

My eyes widen. I hold my lips against his, barely touching, and move my hand to the crotch of his jeans, feeling him harden against me. He drops my bag to the floor and pushes me back against the door of the apartment. He kisses me with urgency, his hands pulling my long dark hair.

“I’m going to enjoy fucking you this weekend.” His words are full of lust.

“I look forward to you doing so, Mr. Ryans.”

He rolls his hips against me with a wink that liquefies me on the spot. “Let’s go.”

His square jaw is set the whole time he’s maneuvering our bags into the small space in the DB9 but he doesn’t say anything. I smile to myself as I sit in the car and he takes thirty seconds to cool off by the driver’s side door. His counsellor has told him when he’s frustrated he ought to count to thirty, so I count now in my head and sure enough, when I reach thirty, he climbs into the car.

He pulls out of the Shard’s basement and clicks the music to Oasis’s “Roll with It.”
As we drive out of the city, far too fast, we both shout the lyrics and I move my hands, dancing, twisting
.

The July sun beams down on us as we leave concrete for greenery and head up the driveway to the farm. We spend more and more time here now, our haven outside the city. Since the kidnapping, Gregory does just about anything he can to keep stress out of my life—except lighten my GJR workload, that is—despite the fact I tell him I’m fine. But this weekend is something of a celebration, too. Nick Henshaw has finally been sentenced and put where he belongs, behind bars.

As Gregory pulls up outside the house, I turn down the ridiculously loud music. Kian is by the car before I’m even out of the door. He nods to Gregory with a grin and catches the keys Gregory throws to him.

“It’s about time!”

I shift my focus to the door of the farm where Amanda stands, handing baby Penny to Williams who carefully holds her head then lifts her onto his chest.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Ask him,” she says, looking at Gregory who shrugs.

“A surprise,” he says.

Amanda shakes her head then yanks my hand, pulling me into the house, dragging me upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Surprise!” Julia and Lucas squeal in unison. They look as glamorous out of work as they do in Harrods.

“What on earth? What are you two doing here?”

I turn on the spot and see Sandy, holding up a large cream clothes bag. Little men do jiggery in my abdomen. “Is that what I think it is?”

She smiles and Amanda moves to the bag, drawing the zip to the floor. “Happy wedding day, bestie,” she says, pulling out a wedding dress.
My
wedding dress.

After the shooting I was covered in cuts and bruises, I didn’t want a wedding just weeks later like Lara had planned. And that gave us time, me time to tell Gregory that I didn’t want a big wedding at all. I didn’t want three hundred and fifty guests that didn’t know us and didn’t care whether we were in love or not.

I run my hand over the crystal-encrusted lace and the fitted bodice. Julia fans out the train so I can see the complete look—a slim fitted, strapless dress, overlaid by lace and crystals with a small train.

I’d told him I’d plan but maybe next year. I didn’t want Lara to create some masterpiece that just wasn’t
us
and I wanted to be able to concentrate on my role at GJR for a while
.
We bickered just weeks ago because I hadn’t made any progress. He told me he wanted the world to know I was his wife.

Lucas holds up a cathedral veil on the opposite side of the room. “Let’s get you ready.”

I bite down on my lip, feeling and thinking too many things to get a hold on any single one. “I’m getting married?”

“You sure are,” Julia sings.

He wasn’t joking. He threatened to take it out of my hands, so he could make me his as soon as possible. Part of me wanted it to be true but I didn’t think he’d really do it. “Holy shit.”

“Mouth, lady,” Sandy snaps.

“Sorry. But holy shit!”

I should have known. When Gregory wants something, he gets it.

Julia, Lucas and Carrie—a beautician and stylist I’ve never met—work wonders. When they’re satisfied with my complete look and leave to make their way downstairs, I’m left with Sandy and Amanda, now changed into dresses they picked themselves—Amanda in emerald green; Sandy in a deep shade of purple.

“You look beautiful,” I tell them.

“Let’s get you in that dress,” Sandy says.

They help me navigate my way, pulling me into the tight elastic of the bodice and zipping me up, before clipping on a chiffon train and pushing the cathedral veil into my pinned-up curls.

“Gregory asked us to give you this.” Amanda opens a large navy velour box to reveal a thick diamond choker. “It’s your something new.”

I laugh because
everything
is new.

“And, if you’d like to, I’d like you to wear this as your something borrowed and something blue.” Sandy unhooks a delicate sapphire bracelet that my father and I gave her as a gift for her thirtieth birthday.

I hold out my wrist, not able to speak and unable to fasten the bracelet with my shaking fingers.

“Oh, and one more thing.” She moves to the bed and bends to pull out an A4 shape in bubble wrap.

I sit onto the edge of the bed, sticking my tongue out to demonstrate how tight my dress is when I bend. I take off the bubble wrap and turn over the A4 photo frame so the picture is face up. My eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, hell,” Amanda says, rushing to get a tissue and handing it to me.

It’s the picture from my father’s room, blown up to A4. My father, Sandy and me on Brighton Pier. I shake my head as I dab the corners of my eyes, desperately trying not to cry.

“I love it, Sandy, thank you.”

“Enough of the soppy,” Amanda chirps. “Let’s get this show on the road. I hear there’s a groom waiting outside.”

Suddenly, nerves build everywhere in my body, my stomach, my chest, my weak limbs. I nod and shake or do something with my head.

I’m about to become Mrs. Scarlett Ryans. Mr. Sexy Bazillionaire CEO Ryans.

I can’t wait.

He’s thought of everything. We move outside as the thirty or so guests, all family and friends we love, stand from white linen chairs either side of a white aisle laid out on the grass. A piano begins to play the first notes of Yiruma’s “It’s Your Day.” I glance to the pianist who smiles back at me. Violet. He hired the pianist from the charity gala who made me cry. Now she does the same thing again. My eyes fill as Amanda kisses me on the cheek then sets off down the aisle.

He’s always said he wanted me to have the fairytale. He’s given it to me.

“Ready?” Sandy asks as she hooks her arm through mine.

“Ready.”

We walk the first section of the aisle behind one half of the guests, then turn left and I see him, standing next to Williams and Jackson, his back to me. Williams turns to me then pats Gregory on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. Gregory stands in that pose I love. His hands by his sides in his black, perfectly tailored suit. His legs parted, his shoulders tall and strong, his hips slightly forward. His hair is slicked back.

My blood pumps hard in my veins. I want to see his face.

Sandy excitedly squeezes my hand and I look around our family and friends. Luke smiles at me. Lawrence dips his head. Lara wipes her eyes with a tissue and Stuart turns his lips in a half smile that’s so incredibly familiar. There’s one person missing but I know he’s looking in on us from his cloud and he’ll be content because his little girl is the happiest she’s ever been in her life.

Sandy takes my bouquet as I stand in front of the trellis archway and Amanda fans out my dress and veil on the floor. Then I take the final three steps alone. Towards the man I love. The man I couldn’t have dreamt.

He turns now, those mesmerising browns looking over my body, then meeting my hazel-greens. His chest rises with his breath. His hand moves to his heart.

If it’s possible, I fall just a little bit deeper.

* * * * *