CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Scarlett
“What are you doing here?” I huffed, annoyed that Griff’s best friend was interfering with my escape plan.
Instead of answering he strode forward, grabbed my bag in one hand, my elbow in the other and began hauling me across the apartment.
“Hey! I’m getting a little tired of being manhandled.”
"Be quiet and listen." He pulled me into the drawing room and closed the door. Throwing my bag on the floor, he skewered me with his gaze. "Everyone is downstairs speculating on your relationship."
“I don’t care.”
“I know what just happened.”
I flushed. “He told you.”
Quentin smirked. “You’d be surprised what men share.”
“And the point of you coming up here then?”
His expression cleared. "He also told me that he wouldn't tell you why he's sending you away and I think that's fucking stupid so I'm doing what I always tell Amelia not to do and interfering. Even if it costs me my life."
My eyes rounded. “Your life.”
"Oh, Griff is definitely going to kill me when this is over."
My patience was wearing thin. I crossed my arms over my chest. "What's going on? What isn't he telling me?"
Quentin didn’t make me wait. “Hale O’Connor approached him two weeks ago. I was there. He demanded a fifty percent share in the club in return for leaving you alone.”
“That’s bullshit,” I huffed, incredulous.
"Yes, it is. But as much as I tried to talk Griff out of it, he's panicked about your safety. No one has ever meant what you mean to him, Scarlett, and he isn't thinking clearly. All he's thinking about is keeping you safe. He and O'Connor have come to their agreement, and the final contracts arrived on Griff's desk this evening. He intends to meet with O'Connor tomorrow to finalize it. He plans to do that, get you out of the way, somewhere safe you can't be found. He's spent the last two weeks arranging it. And then when he knows your safe, he's planning to find a way to take O'Connor down.
"The thing is… I found another way." Quentin continued while I reeled with the information. "O'Connor is going down. I have connections that I can't really discuss and information I can't share. But let me just say that he's been under investigation for a long time and they finally have what they need. O'Connor has grown so delusional. He believes so much in his own invincibility he's started making a lot of big mistakes. In a few days, he will no longer be a problem for us. For anyone."
“So why is Griff going through with it?”
“Like I said he can’t see clearly right now, Scarlett. He can’t see past you.”
My mind whirled making the room spin, and I stumbled, catching myself on the armchair. "He's giving up half the club for me? To a criminal?"
"I don't want this weighing on you. If we ever find each other again, it's because you want to be with me and not because you feel obliged."
“Oh my God,” I slid down into the chair, trying to catch my breath.
He loved me.
He so really, truly loved me.
Quentin lowered himself to his haunches and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Finally catching on, are you?”
Panic suddenly hit. “Quentin, we can’t let him do this.”
“No, that’s why I told you.”
“If what you say is true and O’Connor is going down then we just need to hang on here at the club a little while longer until its safe.”
“Yes. But you have to convince Griff.”
“He didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want me to feel responsible.”
“He’s a fucking fool in love.” Quentin stood up. “We all are.”
“You’d do it for, Amelia,” I said defensively.
"Yeah, yeah." He shot me a smug look. "Guess this means he's forgiven."
"Oh I'm going to smack him across the head for putting me through this, but then I'm going to rip off all his clothes, yes."
He winced. “Too much information.”
“We need to talk to him now. Will you go get him and bring him to the office?”
“Can I bring Amelia? She’ll kill me for leaving her alone again down there and then she’ll bug me all night to get the story if I don’t.”
I laughed, shakily, trembling with adrenaline. Griff loved me! “Yes, yes.” I was impatient to confront my husband.
My husband.
I could say that feeling lighter than I had in weeks.
He loved me.
I grinned, wanting to scream and cry all at the same time.
He was going to screw with his club to protect me.
Oh, man, I wanted to kiss him and smack him silly at the same time.
Following Quentin out, I called to him as he walked to the elevator, "I'll be in Griff's office. And tell Amelia to swipe some canapes. I feel hungry all of a sudden."
“I’ll bet,” I thought he muttered.
◆◆◆
Griffin
I hurried off the elevator, concern crashing through me. “Is there a reason you both need to be here?” I huffed impatiently at my best friend and his wife.
Minutes ago Quentin had found me in the Hazard room trying to focus, with great difficulty, on my club members, and he’d told me that Scarlett needed me.
Nothing else.
Just that she needed me.
And these bloody two were following me.
I frowned at Amelia’s hands. “What is that?”
“A napkin full of canapes. Scarlett’s request apparently,” she shrugged.
Patience now non-existent I stormed into my private office where I'd been informed she was waiting.
And she was.
My wife sat perched on my desk, her legs crossed, chewing on her bottom lip in thought. She'd changed into a sweater dress that hid her body and yoga pants that didn't. Her hair was still pinned up from the ball.
“What’s going on?” I strode across the room to her and clasped her cheek in my hand.
And then I froze.
Because she was staring at me with such unguarded fucking adoration, it almost brought me to my knees. She clasped my wrist and bussed into my touch. "You are not handing over your club for me."
I tensed as realization dawned.
That’s it. He was dead.
I spun around to kill Quentin and was stopped by Scarlett’s entire body.
And I meant her entire body.
She jumped off the desk and wrapped herself around me like a monkey. I instinctively reached back to grab her luscious arse to hold onto her. "What the hell are you doing?" I growled over my shoulder.
“Stopping you from killing your friend.”
“Whoa, hey!” Amelia dove in front of Quentin in a way that would have been comical if I wasn’t so bloody pissed off. She stood like a starfish in front of him.
Quentin stared adoringly down at the top of her head. “Sweetheart, you think for one second I’m going to let you protect me?”
“Why is your best friend trying to kill you?” she asked.
“Because he betrayed my trust.”
“Because he’s a moron.”
We glared at each other.
"Okay, stop." Scarlett slid to the ground and turned around to brace her hands on my chest. "I get why you didn't want to tell me, but I don't feel guilty. I'm angry at this asshole for trying to use me against you, but neither of us is to blame for that. Griff." She sank into me, smiling so happily, my heart started to race. "You were going to give up everything you've worked so hard for, and you wouldn't even tell me because you thought you were protecting me. If that's not love, then I don't know what the hell is."
I grabbed her shoulders pulling her closer. “I don’t want you in the crossfire.”
"But that's why we're here," she gestured excitedly to Quentin. She turned back to me. "Somewhere along the way, you got so stuck on protecting me that you forgot that I don't need protecting. I just need you to love me. And when you love me, I go from being a pretty strong person to being goddamn invincible." She slipped her arms around my neck, crushing her soft, beautiful body against me. "Let me be your partner. Let me help."
I gripped her waist, wanting very much not to let her go if it could be helped. “How?”
“Hold on like I said,” Quentin interrupted.
I cut him a filthy look, still not having forgiven him just yet despite the fantastic results in my arms.
"He's right," Scarlett said. "If O'Connor is really about to get his comeuppance what does it hurt holding off a little while. You can keep him at bay, lie about the contracts not being ready, and then hopefully he'll be in jail, and it'll be over. If not," she hurried to say before I could interrupt, "Then we find another way. Together. I won't hide from him. And I won't be sent away from you again. Griff, you know a lot of powerful people. You said so yourself. If you stop worrying about me and think straight, you'll find another way."
Relief moved through me like a bloody crashing waterfall, and I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her against me so I could bury my head in her neck and inhale her. Jesus, fuck I'd missed this.
“Still want to kill me?” Quentin asked.
I heard a slap and a grunt, so I assumed Amelia had smacked him for trying to ruin my moment with my wife.
Finally, I eased back and stared down into Scarlett's beautiful face. "I've fucking missed you."
She beamed. "I've missed you too. Now, will you forgive your friend, rip up those contracts, and end your night at the ball as quickly as possible so we can stop missing each other.”
"Well as much as I'd hate to get in the way of you ‘reconnecting,'" Amelia suddenly mused, "Scarlett, I think you should get back in your dress and come downstairs. Show everyone you're united so certain little Broadway stars," she cut me an annoyed look, "Know certain club owners are off limits."
My lips twitched as Scarlett scowled at her friend. “I don’t need to prove anything.”
"If I have to be down there, I'd like you with me," I said.
She melted instantly. “Okay.”
I chuckled. “I could get used to this very pliant version of you.”
Scarlett shook her head. “Don’t get too used to it, mister. I didn’t have a personality transplant.”
“Thank fuck.” I kissed her quick, hard. “Go get dressed. I’ll rip up the contracts and meet you downstairs.”
It was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders knowing I didn’t have to sell the club. I would have done it. But having Scarlett’s trust and love and my club in one piece was so much fucking better.
Ten minutes later I was talking to a club member in the Hazard room when she walked in wearing that stunning golden-green dress. She'd put on the weight she'd taken off when we'd split up and the velvet molded to every sensual curve of her body.
How the bloody hell could she be jealous of any other woman?
Did she not know my blood was on fire for her?
I couldn’t wait to get her alone.
To sink myself inside that tight sweet pussy and hear her tell me she loved me as she came.
Clearing my throat, I tried to quiet my lustful thoughts, or I'd be walking around with a hard-on.
"You're a fortunate man, Mandeville," Jerry Price, the lawyer I'd been talking with mused.
As Scarlett moved through the crowds, oblivious to the gossiping patrons and the looks she was receiving, that ache in my chest swelled into something new. It was the overwhelming feeling of loving someone as much as I loved this woman.
And knowing she loved me.
Yes, I was a lucky bastard.
Scarlett didn’t stop until she’d sidled right into me, her arm slipping around my waist. I rested my hand possessively on her hip and kissed her forehead.
Let the fuckers make what they would of our relationship.
If anyone had told me a year ago that I'd be making an arse of myself in front of high society by chasing my fiery wife around the club and losing control in her body any time we argued, I would have shuddered at the thought.
Now I didn’t know what I would do without it.
Scarlett Mandeville was my drug of life.
I was addicted, and I didn't fucking care one whit.
“I love you,” I murmured, not caring if Jerry overheard.
She rested her chin on my shoulder and bit her lip to restrain the smile she wanted to give me. And then she thought better of it and grinned. "I love you, too."