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‘Are you kidding me?’ Jodie pulled a comic face. ‘Like yesterday? You know what these wealthy women are like.’
Marnie nodded. She certainly did. A few seemed like perfectly decent people but many of them were spoiled and, in her experience, nearly all of them were demanding. So she tidied her hair, checked her portable nail kit and then made her way through the sprawling Paradeisos complex towards the upmarket Ouranos section. She’d never actually done a treatment here before—Jodie usually kept the jobs with the greatest tip potential for herself—and ordinarily Marnie might have been excited at the thought of having a peek round this most exclusive area of the hotel. But today didn’t feel ordinary. Not at all. She still had that strange feeling of being disconnected from her own body. As if being given two orgasms in quick succession by a man she barely knew had shaken the foundations of her world and made her realise she didn’t really know herself very well at all.
Abundant pink and white flowers framed the interconnecting buildings surrounding the different-sized swimming pools which made the Ouranos complex so distinct, though naturally it had its own private beach. It was just unfortunate that the thought of any kind of beach made Marnie want to shudder. It made her think of grains of sand falling onto the floor of her tiny shower cubicle and swirling down the plughole as she’d tried to wash away the memories of Leon’s lovemaking. But his scent had clung stubbornly to her hair and her skin and it had taken a full twenty minutes of fierce scrubbing before she’d finally felt free of him and able to fall into bed last night.
She could hear the chink of glasses and as she approached, her gaze took in the kind of scene which looked like an advertiser’s dream. Around a vast azure pool stood a cluster of rich and beautiful people—all speaking in Greek and laughing while waiters topped up their crystal goblets with champagne. Several of the women lay sprawled on sun loungers and they were all wearing tiny scraps of swimwear which looked hugely expensive. But that was because they were. Marnie had seen the discreet price tags in the hotel boutique and marvelled at the fact that anyone would ever spend that much on a bikini.
From beneath the wide brim of her straw hat, one of the women spotted her and lifted her hand in careless greeting. ‘Ah! My manicurist is here. At last!’ she exclaimed, in perfect if slightly dramatic English. ‘Never has the sight of someone been so welcome!’
Everyone turned to stare at her, their voices growing silent as Marnie walked towards the group. Finding herself the unwilling focus of attention made it difficult to avoid becoming self-conscious as she moved across the terrace. She was dimly aware of the women’s collective beauty and that the men were all tall and devastatingly handsome. But her unease quickly became acute as the identity of one of the guests seared itself onto her disbelieving brain and at first she thought it must be some sort of mirage. Please, no, she thought. Please don’t do this to me. She could feel the savage pounding of her heart as she risked a glance towards the most captivating member of the group and could see that her prayers hadn’t been answered.
r /> Because it was Leon.
Leon the biker, who’d picked her up on the beach.
Lion-like Leon, to whom she’d given her virginity.
But this Leon looked nothing like the man she’d kissed so passionately last night while his fingers had been playing a rhapsody between her legs. Today there were no faded denims. No close-fitting black T which caressed his ripped torso—and definitely no sign of a dusty old motorbike. He wore an expensive linen shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and navy swim shorts. His black hair was tamed and sleek, not windswept and ruffled. He was looking cool and immaculate, yes—but his head-turning qualities were due to much more than his rugged good looks and muscular body, for he radiated power and privilege in the way that only the truly wealthy ever could. Marnie wanted to look away but somehow she couldn’t. She was mesmerised by those eyes which rivalled the sky behind him, for they were dominating her line of vision and burning into her like blue fire. Was his expression mocking her, she wondered, or was he just acutely embarrassed to see her here?
Awkwardly, she moved towards the woman who was beckoning her with a rather impatient finger, and realised that if she didn’t get it together, she would start stockpiling complaints about her lack of professionalism—and that was the last thing she could afford to happen. But the efficient smile she was usually able to summon up at will for clients seemed to have deserted her. ‘Ariane Paparizou?’ she croaked.
‘That’s me! Don’t just stand there. Come and sit down.’ Ariane turned her head with a swish of a glossy black ponytail and flashed the onlookers a wide smile. ‘I’m sure the others don’t mind watching while...what’s your name, dear?’
‘Marnie.’
‘While Marnie works her magic on me!’ A small chair beside the lounger was patted and Marnie padded her way over to it, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Wishing she’d never met him. Wishing she were anywhere other than here. Taking the colour swatch of varnishes from her little bag, she splayed it out for Ariane’s attention, but her head was buzzing with questions which seemed impossible to answer.
Like, what was he doing here? He was supposed to be a builder, wasn’t he? Yet he was standing fraternising with these privileged people as if he had every right to be here and, judging from their fawning body language—he did. Suddenly, she realised that, whoever he was, he wasn’t the man he had appeared to be—and that she had made a very bad choice for her first lover. Not just that, but she had been totally naïve—she, who always prided herself on being street-smart. She, the wisecracking victim of circumstance who was never going to allow herself to be conned by a smooth-talking man.
Of course he wasn’t a builder! Yes, he’d been dressed in a laid-back way—but what else would he have been wearing if he’d been out in the hot sun all day, pelting around a Greek island on a motorbike in the height of summer? She remembered the restaurant where all the tables had supposedly been reserved...until Leon had appeared and one had miraculously been made available by a proprietor who had been fawning over them all evening. Would they have done that for an ordinary builder? Of course they wouldn’t!
Flicking him another glance, she could see he was the only one not drinking champagne, for he was holding a glass of water. His expression was dark and brooding and he was still staring at her. Staring very hard. Any minute now and someone might notice that his attention was—inappropriately—fixed on the visiting beautician and start to wonder why. Or was she flattering herself? Were casual sexual games with staff members par for the course for these kind of people?
Pulling out her kit bag, she began to rummage inside it but all she could think about was that bright gaze which had burned itself into her consciousness.
‘Leon...’
Marnie almost dropped her cuticle-pusher as Ariane said the name she had cried out last night, and the little hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention as she heard his murmured response.
‘Mmm?’
‘Would you like to help me choose a colour?’
There was a pause. ‘Nail polish isn’t really my area of expertise I’m afraid, Ariane.’
Sweat began to bead on Marnie’s brow as she found herself thinking the unthinkable. Because what if Ariane and Leon were lovers and he’d taken a few hours out to be unfaithful to her last night? It was a grim possibility but it was still a possibility and, in the sort of world in which she’d grown up, it remained a very real one.
‘Marnie?’
Ariane’s voice broke into her thoughts and Marnie felt another trickle of fear sliding down the back of her neck. What if the gorgeous Greek woman knew exactly what had happened? Maybe they’d even discussed it and laughed about it—in a very modern way? I know I shouldn’t have done it, agape mou, but she kind of threw herself at me.
She swallowed. What if Ariane called the hotel management and dobbed her in for being intimate with one of the guests—something which was strictly forbidden? What if she was sent home in disgrace with a black mark on her CV and, much more importantly, without the inflated bonus she had been relying on to help her twin sister when she got out of prison?
‘Y-yes?’ Marnie questioned, her cheeks burning with dread.
‘I’ll have the Early Sunrise, please.’
Marnie blinked as Ariane jabbed her broken fingernail in the direction of a vivid orangey hue, and she stared at it as if she had never seen that particular shade of varnish before. ‘Yes, yes. Of course. A...a very good choice. It’s been very popular with all our clients this summer.’ She flashed a smile. ‘Is there somewhere I can go to fill up my nail bath?’
