Vengeful Love: Black Diamonds

by Laura Carter

  I raise my brows.

  “Geoffrey and me, we’ve decided we’re going to try to adopt a baby.”

  “What? Sandy, that’s, oh my gosh, that’s wonderful news.” I forget her hair, make up and dress, and throw my arms around her.

  She giggles, a hearty, chest wobbling, Sandy giggle. “You’ve always worried that I missed out. Well, I’ve never thought that. But Geoffrey and I would like to share a little someone together and we know we’re far from spring chickens.”

  “You’re only in your early forties, Sandy.”

  “Yes, well, we think we could make a little boy or girl a good home.”

  My damn eyes fill again and threaten to stream mascara down my already hot cheeks. “Me, too. I’m not sure this day could get any better.”

  “We’ll see,” she says, wet-eyed, holding my face in her palms.

  I add the finishing touch to Sandy’s outfit—white, crystal decorated, low-heeled Mary-Janes—whilst she pops in her something-borrowed earrings.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  “Let’s do it!”

  “You look incredible.” It’s true. In fact she’s never looked more beautiful.

  We link our arms, each of us holding a lilac bouquet. The staff at the hotel have formed two lines and clap as we step out onto the wooden path across the white sand to the aisle. A string quartet begins to play behind the small gathering of guests, now standing in rows, fifteen on each side of the aisle, enough to shield the groom and his best man from sight.

  I squeeze Sandy’s hand as we begin our entrance. We walk behind one half of the guests and pause before turning left onto the aisle. Then we take the final steps towards Sandy’s new life.

  The quartet grows louder and for the first time today, I see the man I love. Gregory turns in his pale grey suit and white shirt, open two buttons at the top. A silk pocket handkerchief matching the colour of my dress rests in his blazer. His dark hair is slicked back and he stands with his hands held together behind him.

  Jackson keeps his eyes on the female registrar, not looking at his bride until she arrives by his side. I hug Sandy, take her bouquet and move to where I can enjoy the view of her, ecstatically happy. Gregory shakes Jackson’s hand, kisses Sandy on her cheek, and moves to a position opposite mine by Jackson’s side.

  The ceremony is beautiful. More than once I look out over the glistening sea and think there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Definitely more than once, my eyes are drawn to the most mesmerising man I’ve ever known. And whilst I try to keep it at bay, more than once I wonder how happy my father would be to witness Sandy in love, getting married and about to bring up a child of her own. I glance up to see one thin floating cloud in the sky.

  He’s watching.

  * * *

  Dinner is served alfresco on the hotel veranda with all guests seated in a square, Sandy and Jackson central and blissfully happy. The whole event is luxurious—exquisite seafood, fine champagne, wonderful music—yet, all very intimate and charming, all very much Sandy and Jackson.

  Lara looks wonderful in a soft-pink, floor-length dress, decorated with subtle pearl drops around the hem, the inch-thick straps and the neckline. She’s gone matchy-matchy with Gregory’s stepfather, Lawrence, teaming his cream linen suit with a pink shirt that actually kind of works.

  We return to the table for speeches and toasts. I smile happily at Jackson’s rare public display of affection for Sandy, and through Gregory’s easy mannered speech for his bodyguard, personal trainer and close friend. Even Amanda rolls her eyes because I catch her smiling and laughing in all the right places as Gregory speaks.

  He’ll win you over, Amanda Darling, just you wait and see.

  There’s a break after the speeches to give the evening entertainment a chance to set up. The string quartet strikes up again as the guests spread out around white rattan furniture, which Lara has had draped with purple fabric.

  “Could I interest you in a stroll, Mademoiselle?” Gregory asks, the French twist on his words masking his South African accent as he holds out his hand.

  He takes my fingertips and raises my knuckles to his lips. He’s discarded his blazer and now looks outstanding in just grey trousers, resting invitingly on his hips and across his pert arse. His white shirt is now unbuttoned by three. The heady mix of champagne, sun and raging hormones makes me think of where else I’d prefer to be with this man than in public. Where else I’d like to feel those lips.

  I brush off my desirous, wanton thoughts. “Oui, Monsieur.”

  We stroll barefoot and hand in hand along a deserted section of the beach until the sound of music is replaced with only the gentle swooshing of waves and synthetic lights are replaced by the late setting sun. For once, there’s no work, no crazed biological father drama, no Alzheimer’s, no probate issues or trying to sell my childhood home, it’s just us and the vastness of the Caribbean Sea. A light wind causes my hair to tickle my bare back and a contented shiver kisses my body.

  I halt our walk and turn to face Gregory. “In case I forget to tell you, this whole thing is wonderful. I mean, what you’ve done for Sandy and Jackson, flying everyone out here, paying for the wedding, you’re amazing.”

  He takes my hands to the small of his back, pulling me to him. “It’s not just for them, baby. I know how much you wanted Sandy to have the wedding she dreamed of.”

  He brushes my hair from my cheek and I lean into his palm as he speaks. “You’ve saved my life, in more ways than one. I feel reborn with you. Like I get a second chance to live and have everything I want.” He pecks my nose. “Need. I want you to have everything you want, too.”

  “I already have everything.”

  “If there’s ever anything that you want or need, just tell me. I mean, do you even want to work? You don’t need to and I would never think any less of you. I could have you as my plaything at home.”

  “And let them call me your gold-digging girlfriend in the next Times Rich List?”

  He doesn’t laugh.

  “I enjoy my job, Gregory. Being a lawyer is part of me and it’s part of the person you fell in love with. I want her to stick around for you.”

  “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he says with a mischievous grin.

  “Why are you looking like that?” I pout, playfully raising one brow.

  “I have two questions to ask you.”

  My heart flutters in my chest. “Go on.”

  “Well, we make a good team you and me. And I don’t give your firm legal work, not really, I give you legal work.”

  My heart rate returns to normal and I internally curse. Of course he wasn’t going to ask you that.

  “Are you listening?”

  “Mmm, yes, of course. We make a good team.”

  “Well, I was thinking, why don’t you move in-house? Come and work for me at GJR, as my head legal advisor?”

  “Work for you?”

  “Ja.” He laughs nervously, his eyes searching for an answer.

  I step back and nibble my bottom lip, turning slowly on the spot, the hem of my dress floating up from my thighs. “That could be trouble.”

  He looks to the sea across my shoulder and it’s his turn to bite his bottom lip as his hands move to his trouser pockets. “Ja.”

  I stand still, hypnotised by his uncommon vulnerability. “That would mean you’d have to start listening to me.”

  “I can do that.” He looks up from his feet and releases his lip from his teeth.

  “And I’d need benefits. Good benefits. Financial and...”

  “And?”

  I blush, running my tongue across my lip. “And good physical benefits.”

  His nerves are replaced with his exquisite half smile. “That can be arranged.”

  I waft a hand flippantly
through the air. “Oh, what the hell, Neil hates me anyway.”

  “So you’ll do it?”

  I pause for a second, then laugh. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

  “She’ll do it!” He picks me up under my arms and turns me in a fast full circle then sets me back down in front of him.

  “Gregory, you don’t owe me anything, please remember that.”

  “God, you’re amazing.” He takes a deep breath in then kisses me. My body instantly yields, instinctively curving into his. I wrap my fingers around his neck and pull him towards me.

  “Wait, wait.” He removes my hands and places them by my sides. “My second question.”

  Panting, bereft and confused, I shrug. “Oh, yes, what was the second question?”

  His chest expands beneath his white shirt. Then he exhales, a long, tense breath out, and reaches his warm palm to my cheek. “It amazes me every day that you know everything about me. You know my worst. And you’re still here.”

  I feel my eyes widen. My lungs slowly empty.

  “You’re the most beautiful, brave and true woman I’ve ever met. More than that, you’re the best person I know.”

  My stomach flips.

  “You were wrong when you told me I couldn’t see what was standing right in front of me. I’ve always known. I knew from the second I first laid eyes on you in my boardroom.” He sighs on his exhale. “But I was afraid. Afraid of what I could feel, what that would mean, and afraid to believe that you could love me.”

  He lowers his hand from my cheek but his big brown gems wrap around my soul, making my heart rate soar.

  “All my life, I’ve searched for a reason why I’m still here. A purpose. After everything I’ve put you through, by some miracle, you’re still standing in front of me, utterly spellbinding. I know, in this moment, that you are the reason I exist, Scarlett Heath.”

  Tears cast a haze across my eyes that I will to disperse so I can see him clearly.

  “You are my reason. My angel. My everything. I’d like you to let me show you that for the rest of our lives and after.”

  A silent tear trails my cheek. “That’s quite a speech, Mr. Ryans.”

  “I mean every word.”

  He takes a step back then drops to one knee, taking my left hand in his. My other hand moves to my heart in a bid to stop it exploding from my chest. Tears fall from both my eyes when I see the glaze across his.

  “Scarlett Heath, please do me the greatest honour. Please say you’ll be mine forever.”

  I wish I could speak but words, breath, running blood, a beating heart, all have escaped me and I gaze helplessly at this perfect man.

  He reaches into his trouser pocket and presents me with a ludicrously lavish ring. A large, clear princess cut diamond rests in the middle of two entwined rows of diamonds, one white, one black.

  Finally, an almost inaudible whisper escapes me. His eyes widen, his brows rise. “Yes,” I say louder. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  He pushes the extravagant ring onto my finger and pulls me into his arms as he stands. I laugh as he turns us fast, round and round in the sand. He plants me down so my toes are tickled by a lapping wave. He shakes his head then wraps his lips around mine.

  “I really hope they’re happy tears,” he says when we part.

  “I love you to Pluto and back, Gregory Ryans.”

  “Isn’t it to the moon and back?”

  “You’re really going to comment on me muddling a saying?”

  “I guess not. Get here.”

  I leap up into his arms and wrap my legs tightly around his waist. I hold his face and I gaze down at the man I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. “The ring is beautiful. Are they black diamonds?”

  “Yes. They represent your dark streak.” He smirks with a wicked glint in his eye, then whispers, “Aurora.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, we’ve waved Sandy and Jackson off to Barbados for another Gregory treat and I can finally have what I’ve wanted since the beach: Gregory Ryans, my fiancé, all to myself.

  He opens the door to the large, minimalist penthouse suite—cream walls and carpet, oak furniture, white sofas and soft furnishings. I open the French doors to both balconies off the lounge, causing the white chiffon curtains to blow gently into the room. Gregory calls for more champagne. He’s had the hotel stock Pol Rodger 2002 and requests a bottle with two glasses and ice.

  “Set it up in the lounge,” he says, before hanging up the phone and finding me. “Get here.”

  He attacks my mouth, his hand pulling my hair roughly at my neck. He bends me back, my pelvis pushing into his already angry length. He’s been waiting for this, too. My chest rises, pushing my breasts against him, the pressure making me moan into him. He groans deep in his throat and grinds his hips against me, his teeth finding my neck.

  “You’ve agreed to be mine.” His words are a hoarse whisper in my ear. “Completely.”

  “Yes,” I say, breathless.

  “Tonight I’ll take you. I’ll own you. Every way.” He slides his hand down my back, groping my arse over my dress. His fingers work under the silk and brush the satin thong between my cheeks. He picks up my thigh, bending my leg over his hip. “You. Are. Mine.”

  I open my eyes to find two hooded, black irises fixed on me. “Yours.”

  He claims my lip in his teeth, tugging possessively. He lifts my other leg to his hips, then carries me to the master bedroom, past the four-post teak bed, into the large en suite. He lowers me to the vanity unit around the white porcelain sink then moves both hands to my hair, pulling me to his mouth. He grinds hard against me. Then he leaves me squirming with need as he flicks on the walk-in shower.

  God, he’s hot.

  He stalks towards me, unbuttoning his white shirt and releasing the tails from his trousers. I lick my lips, hungry to feel his toned, virile body on me, over me, in me.

  “I’ve had to watch you all day, looking like that, thinking about what I wanted to do to you, not knowing if you’d say yes.”

  “That must have been tough for you,” I tease, as he lets his shirt fall down his arms to the floor.

  “You have no idea.” He pushes my legs apart and roughly lifts my arse to the edge of the unit, grinding against my cleft.

  “I think I’ve missed dark Gregory.”

  “Oh, he’s still in here, baby. And he wants to fuck you. Right now.”

  I push up from the unit, rolling myself against his crotch. “I’d like that.”

  My head darts to the door when I hear a noise. He grasps my chin in his hand and turns my head back to him. “It’s room service.”

  Straightening, I push a hand between us, rubbing his erection over his trousers. Leaning forward, I bite his pec and revel in the rumbling growl from his chest.

  “She wants it rough,” he says, tugging my hair, lifting my face to look at him.

  “She does.”

  “Game on, Miss Heath.”

  He draws down the zip at the side of my dress and pulls it over my head as steam begins to fill the room. As fast as the dress hits the white floor tiles, my nipple is in his mouth. He groans as he pulls it through his teeth, the pain making the swirl of his tongue that follows an even sweeter sensation. My back arches towards him as he performs the same trick on my other breast.

  Lifting me with one hand, he yanks my thong down my thighs then bends, his tongue following the line of the satin to my ankles. He removes my shoes then rises, pulling me to him again. His lips meet my neck, then my collarbone, as his hands work my breasts.

  “Take off my trousers.”

  I unbuckle then unbutton him and push down his boxers and trousers, freeing him.

  He rolls his hard dick against my swollen sex. “This is what you do to me.”

&nbs
p; He lifts me and takes us into the thick steam, setting me down under the shower’s hot spray. I move a leg between his and rub against him as his tongue attacks mine, turning, licking, tasting. Then he moves to my breast, biting the nipple, sucking the most sensitive skin, drawing blood to the surface. Wild, carnal possession that has me writhing against him.

  Bending, he hooks my legs over his shoulders and I squeal as he unexpectedly hoists me up, my back pressed against the white tiles above him, his hands and shoulders holding my thighs up and open, his face at my desperate entrance. I fist my hands in his hair as his tongue strikes a line up my centre and massages my clit.

  “Jesus! Gregory!”

  He quickens his pace, moving his tongue between seductively circling my clit and dipping into me. From here, I can see everything. Watching him control and devour me pushes me towards a climax. My shoulders roll against the tiles, I yank harder at his hair.

  “Gregory, I’m there.”

  He doesn’t stop, he works relentlessly until my head spins, my insides ignite around him and I scream his name.

  Leaning my head back, I slide my legs from his shoulders and he lowers me down, steadying me with his hands on my hips. I drop my head to his chest as he rinses his face under the spray of the shower.

  With a bent index finger, he lifts my chin. “Fuck me with your mouth.”

  Gladly.

  Keeping my eyes on his, I bend to my knees, my hands gliding over his wet muscles, coming to rest on to his hips. A drop of pre-come escapes his tip and I lap it up, savouring his taste. Sliding my arm between his legs, I move my fingers around his back entrance, then drag them forward along his hard base, his moan spurring me on. I cup his sack, still stroking his base, and delight in his head falling back, showing strained muscles in his neck and chest.

  I lick from his base to his tip then turn my tongue around the head, taking another bead of early release. He braces his hands on the tiles in front of him. I wrap my lips around him and take him to the back of my throat in one swift move.