The dance floor was a sea of writhing bodies, fuelled by cocaine and Cristal. Tina was among them, having abandoned him almost immediately on arrival to schmooze the A-list celebrities. At least she was happy, he thought. She had pulled off a great coup in arriving with Kirstie and Peter, the hottest couple in the world, and she was making the most of it. This was the sort of thing she really cared about, he thought. He felt he hardly knew her any more. He didn’t know if he or she had changed – perhaps they both had.
Watching her partying, he felt resentful and a bit sorry for himself. After all, it was his birthday. She was supposed to have planned this evening as a surprise for him, but she wasn’t giving a thought to what he wanted. She didn’t even seem to realise that he wasn’t enjoying himself.
As he watched, the homies across the room parted and he glimpsed 2Tone, a globally famous rapper, sitting in the centre of the group, a still, calm figure amid all the swagger and bravado. 2Tone – Tony to his friends – had supported Walking Wounded on an early tour. Will remembered him as a quiet, almost shy boy with old-fashioned American manners and a friendly, easy-going disposition completely at odds with his aggressive public persona.
Spotting Will, Tony gave him a broad grin and ambled over to join him. Will was glad of the company. He liked Tony. His careerhad gone supernova since he had toured with Walking Wounded, but he was still the same unexpectedly quiet, unassuming character, with none of the flashiness of the strutting peacocks that surrounded him. He was good company, entertaining, droll and witty, and as they chatted, Will found himself laughing for the first time that evening.
‘Are you here on your own?’ Tony asked after a while.
‘I’m with Tina.’ Will nodded to her on the dance floor.
‘She know that?’ Tony smiled sardonically.
She does now,Will thought. She had spotted him with Tony and was weaving her way back to him. At the same time, Tony’s friends, jealous of his company and curious about anyone he would cross a room to speak to, were gravitating to where he was sitting with Will and reassembling around his table. With Tina now happily ensconced among Tony’s crowd, Will took the opportunity to make his escape. Pleading that he had work to do in the morning and needed some sleep, he asked if she would mind if he left. He might have been hurt by her readiness to let him go if he hadn’t been so relieved.
‘I’ll be in town again in a few weeks for my birthday,’ she said, kissing him. ‘I’ll make it up to you then.’
Stepping out into the Florentine night, Will took a deep breath. Fresh air had never felt so good. He must be getting old, he thought. He wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed, wake up at the villa and have breakfast with Kate in the morning.
* * *
Somehow, Kate had ended up alone in the studio with Owen with just his shirt on. She wasn’t too sure how she had got there, but she had a vague recollection of professing a lifelongdesire to be in a band. Owen had grabbed her hand and they had run here together, leaving Phoenix, Georgie and Rory raiding the kitchen again. Now he was plugging an electric guitar into an amp and placing it over her head, spending an inordinate amount of time adjusting the strap across her breasts.
Trying out a chord, Kate was thrilled at the power of the sound she produced with the merest touch of her fingers. She thrashed the strings, dancing around in what she felt was a very rock goddess kind of way.
‘It sounds shite,’ Owen roared, above the din, ‘but you look totally brilliant.’
Getting up from his position on the floor, he put his hand over hers, stilling her fingers.
‘That’s enough of that,’ he said softly, his eyes boring into hers and turning her legs to jelly. He lifted the guitar over her head and put it down. Then he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently against the wall.
* * *
Will found the villa in a shambles, lights blazing, doors thrown open and music blaring. His first thought was that the place had been ransacked. All sorts of scenarios flashed across his mind – kidnappers, crazed fans, enraged fathers whose daughters Owen had ravished. But it didn’t take him long to recognise the signs of a party and to realise that it was just business as usual. The kitchen looked as if it had been raided by a family of rampaging bears. Cereal boxes were torn open, spewing their contents onto the work surfaces, which were covered in dishes of half-eaten spaghetti. In the living room the floor was scattered with popcorn, cake crumbs and bottles, and the TV was still fizzingaway in the corner, competing with the speakers from the sound system.
He turned off the TV and the stereo and began to pick things up. When he bent to collect an empty beer bottle from the floor, he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye that made his blood run cold and his heart pound. Straightening, breathless with dread, he looked out through the open doors to the terrace. His heart leaped into his mouth – something red was bobbing around in the swimming pool. It was Kate – he recognised the dress immediately. And she seemed to be floating lifelessly, drifting to and fro with the lap of the water against the filters.
Barely able to breathe, he forced himself to move towards the pool on leaden legs, heart hammering. It must only have been seconds before he reached the edge, but it felt like a lifetime. Then, looking down, he gave an almost hysterical shout of laughter when he saw that Kate’s dress was unoccupied by its owner. Weak from shock, he exhaled and sank to his knees. He rubbed his face with shaking hands, trying to dispel the horrific images that were still flashing through his mind.
He fished the dress out of the water, automatically wrung it out and spread it out on a nearby sun-lounger to dry. Weariness overcame him as the adrenalin abated, and he stayed where he was, smoothing the material absently with his fingers. He remembered how gorgeous Kate had looked in it the other night – and wondered why she had taken it off out here and thrown it into the pool.
Once he had grasped the fact that Kate hadn’t drowned, relief was followed by anger. If Kate was there now he would have been torn between the desire to kiss her senseless and the impulse to throttle her for getting swept up in the band’s craziness.
* **
In the studio, Owen had Kate pinned against the wall. ‘You’re so sexy, Kate,’ he muttered, stroking her mouth seductively.
‘So are you!’ Kate breathed, laying a hand on his taut, tanned chest and feeling his heart jump against her palm.
He bent his head towards her, sooty lashes closing over those melting brown eyes. Then he was kissing her, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth while his hands stroked her body, brushing the sides of her breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples, which leaped into life.
I’m kissing Owen Cassidy,Kate told herself, trying to feel the appropriate level of excitement. He really was an amazing kisser – all that practice had certainly paid off.
She gasped as she felt his warm hand against her thigh. The other was sliding inside the open V of the shirt, and Kate’s head rolled back as his fingers found her breast.
Lifting his head, Owen fished in his pocket and held out his palm with two little white pills in it. ‘Have you ever made love on E?’
Kate shook her head.
