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“Father,” Malachi scolds under his breath, but his father’s expression remains unchanged. This is the second time I’ve had the misfortune of being in Duncan’s company, and to say his personality leaves a lot to be desired is the understatement of the century.
“Where are you from?” Julie asks, as if trying to piece together where our paths may have crossed.
I straighten my back and force myself to stand tall. “The Netherlands originally, but my family moved to Heller St Claire in Cornwall when I was a baby.”
“Go on,” she prompts.
I’m not sure what she wants me to say, so decide to tell her a little about me. “My sister and I used to own a photography shop in the town. We specialised in photography packages. She would take the photos and I would do the hair and makeup. There was a small room at the back of the shop where I would carry out a range of beauty treatments.”
Julie taps her finger on her chin thoughtfully, and it’s now that I notice the back of her hand. Dark veins protrude, and her skin is sunken and clings to the frail bones beneath. Her face suggests she is in her late forties, though her hands indicate she is much older. “I’m the owner and founder of the skincare company Lotus Flower. I wonder if you are familiar with our products. My face is on all the advertisements.”
My mouth forms an O. Lotus Flower is one of the biggest skincare products on the UK market. If Julie is who she says she is, then she is a millionaire in her own right. “Yes, I used your products all the time, and I would always order an extra cleanser for myself.”
Her eyes shine with pride. “Which is your favourite?”
“That’s easy, the Monarda range. I love the uniqueness of the mint and oregano scent.” The sick feeling from moments ago has completely dissolved as Julie places her hand on my shoulder.
“Tell me the name of your salon. I will come down for a treatment,” she says, her smile wide, exposing a perfect set of pearly white teeth.
My stomach clenches. “Our shop was called Perfect Prints. We were forced to close after an arson attack a few years ago. The insurance didn’t cover all of the damages, but I’ve been working hard to secure the funds I need to get back up and running.”
The thought of reopening my salon suddenly feels less appealing because it’ll be with Lucian’s money. Money I will be given when our arrangement is over and I’m no longer bound to him. My heart tightens painfully at the thought.
“Oh, Duncan dear, this simply will not do,” Julie announces. “I will give you the money you need to reopen your salon.”
I smile, but quickly shake my head. “That is lovely, thank you so much, but no. I could not accept.”
I flash a glance around the small crowd. At Farrah, whom in only a few short days I have grown to love. At Malachi, who no longer looks at me with indifference—his look is now one of interest. I go so far as flashing a glance at Lucian’s father, a man whom I don’t imagine I will ever grow to like, but a man whom I respect. I wonder what it would be like to be part of this family, and to be Lucian’s fiancée for real. Even with Gage, as brash as he is, I can’t say the idea of having these people in my life on a more permanent basis is the worst thing to imagine. In fact, it is quite the opposite.
With Lucian in mind, I take a few steps back. “Please, excuse me. I’m going to see where my fiancé has got to.”
“Can you keep an eye out for Rocky, please?” Julie asks. “He ran into the gardens the second we arrived.”
“Sure thing,” I say and turn my back on them in pursuit of Lucian and I’m guessing a dog of some description.
The conversation between Julie and Duncan ebbs as I hurriedly make my way past the vegetable patch, toward the arched opening in the bushes and beyond. The land is vast, and I’m met with a rich explosion of colour from the shrubs and many different types of flowers. No matter which way I turn, my gaze is met only by unspoilt land. There is no sign of Lucian, Gage, or a dog.
Lucian isn’t the kind of person to go walking in circles. I know Lucian, he’s practical. He’d walk in one direction and keep going until he didn’t want to walk any more. Or at least I hope that is what he would do, as I continue on in a straight line.
I pass bushes and trees, walk along a narrow, pebbled walkway and continue until finally something other than plant life comes into view. That something is a large tennis court.
“Fifteen-love!” Gage calls from one side of the net and does what I can only describe as a victory dance.
“You’re cheating,” comes the disgruntled sound of a child. A fair-haired boy whom I’d guess to be around eight or nine runs over to Gage. The boy is dressed in a royal blue T-shirt and matching shorts with a tennis racket wedged under his arm.
Gage crouches down so he is eye level with the boy. “No, lad, you just chose the wrong team to play on.” Gage lifts his head and his attention shifts. “A hundred-pound wager, was it? Now pay up.”
I stop walking and lean against the trunk of a large tree. I’m shaded from the hot summer sun and hidden from sight.
I watch as Lucian jogs over to where Gage and the boy are standing. His hair appears damp, and a thin line of sweat shines on his forehead. His pristine white shirt hugs his chest and, like his hair, appears damp, which causes it to mould to the rippling muscles beneath. Lucian reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out his wallet. I can’t see how much he takes, but he places an ample wad of cash onto his brother’s awaiting palm. “Why is everything about money with you?”
Gage’s tongue hovers over his lip as he flicks through the notes. Smiling, he counts the money aloud. “Because money is everything.”
Lucian rolls his eyes. “Come on, Rocky, let’s show Gage how it feels to lose.”
So Rocky isn’t a dog.
Hidden from sight, I watch as they play tennis. I love seeing how competitive Lucian is. He and his brother have fire in their eyes as they backhand the ball over the net. I’m surprised to see how well Lucian can play. His movements are fluid, and he has excellent control of his racket. Lucian is a much more skilled player than his brother. The problem arises when Gage hits the ball to the boy in what I like to call a cheap shot. Rocky misses the ball by inches and it careens off the court.
