by Shel Stone
And truthfully, he’d rather have Felix as an ally in this, than as an enemy. They were both invested in detaching him and Esme.
Chapter 20
“DID YOU TRULY HAVE to invite people around?” Tristan complained as he sat down at one of the seating arrangements. The last thing he wanted was to entertain people for hours.
“You’ll like them. I promise. There are some really interesting people in Marbella. And I’ve known Samara for ages.”
The last thing Tristan wanted was to spend the evening with Persephone’s friends, or the pointless women around here. But with an Azmer, one couldn’t help but pay attention. Over time, he’d had a few run-ins with Hassan, but they had tended to stay away from each other professionally.
Firstly the man was too much trouble, secondly, he was always out to screw the people he dealt with—and he was mostly successful at it. Saying that, recent developments had shown he was very much correct in his assessment of the man.
“I understand her stepson was dating Dominic Dunbury’s daughter,” Percy continued. “This is an interesting little town. I wonder why I’ve never spent any time here.”
“Because we’ve always gone to St. Tropez,” he replied in bored tones. As long as he could remember, St. Tropez, or the Caribbean, had been where they’d holidayed, at their grandmother’s houses. St. Tropez was an older enclave, and much more established. The people there had known each other for decades, and had feuds just as old. It seemed the exiles all came here, whether truly exiled, or those preferring something a little less established. And it had to be said, St. Tropez was old, these days, full of pensioners with dubious cosmetic work. To a large degree, it was a retirement village for people their father’s age.
Persephone had dressed up. She always looked well-dressed, but he could tell she was making an effort, which was curious. It made him wonder what she wanted from these ladies. Politics between women was something he’d never truly figured out.
The sun was settling and the air had that lovely quality at the end of the day, when things started to cool down. It couldn’t get cold, simply tolerable. Persephone had planned an outside dinner and the table was already set up and waiting. It sparkled with crystal and silver.
Perhaps spending the evening with strangers wouldn’t be horrific. It was something he rarely did. Mostly he attended business engagements in the evenings. Swigging the whiskey in the tumbler, he sighed, not looking forwards to this.
His father’s butler appeared from inside. “Madame, I believe the guests are starting to arrive,” he said in his typical stiff manner. Tristan wondered if the staff were all worried for their jobs. Perhaps they should be. One didn’t inherit staff so much, these days. And who needed the reminder of what they’d just buried.
They were excellent staff. Father wouldn’t have tolerated anything less, so it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t find other employment.
“Ah, Viola,” Persephone said, rising to kiss the woman on the cheek. A husband was with her, who introduced himself as Philip Tanning. Clearly British of the kind only exclusive schools could produce. The name was somewhat familiar, but other people arrived, including Cheyenne Terpa, who’d he’d met before.
“Tristan, how lovely to see you.” A man was with her too, but no ring on her finger.
“Klaus,” the man said. Tristan would have to have been under a rock not to know the man. A genius by many accounts. Artificial Intelligence, which meant he had much more of a tech bend that Tristan could ever avail himself to.
It certainly was an interesting crowd. He could see why Persephone wanted to make an impression. Then a woman walked through the door, wearing bright pink. Her dark hair flowed down her shoulders and her eyes were like black velvet. Without wondering, he knew this was Samara Azmer. A bright smile graced her lips and she looked towards Persephone. She wasn’t tall, but in most ways perfect. Physically, at least.
Tristan wasn’t one to prefer the model physique. It was too harsh and angular for him, so a beautifully tailored dress on gorgeous curves were always appreciated. Saying that, Tristan had been around long enough to know beautiful women were often vipers. It amazed him that some of the men who dated them didn’t see it, as if in their arrogance they assumed it was their own innate charm and sheer masculinity that drew them. Perhaps Klaus Danzer was one of them, because Cheyenne Terpa didn’t have a bone in her body that couldn’t poison.
“Shall we sit?” he suggested. As would be expected, he sat at the head of the table, which had always been his father’s seat. There was a perverse pleasure in superseding him, so clearly unpacking his position, because he didn’t matter anymore. He’d gone from being such a force in the world to now being nothing, even as he’d tried very hard to impact their lives after his death.
His agreement with Persephone was a point of pride, a way of giving their father the finger, and the means to tear down the man’s legacy.
“Such a beautiful house,” Voila said.
“It’s hideous,” Tristan said.
“Well, it’s very masculine.”
“It’s outdated and tacky.” It would have been the height of minimalist sophistication at one point, but tastes had moved on—except to the people it really appealed to, like those without souls.
“I have a fabulous interior designer,” the woman suggested.
“I think we are just going to sell it. None of us could be bothered with it. Better that someone design it to their tastes.”
“True, one does want to put one’s own stamp on a place.”
“It’s sometimes better to leave things behind,” Samara said. Her dark eyes turned to him and he felt a hint of heat. He was attracted to her. Vipers were, after all, mesmerising. “Lock up and walk away. It can be very liberating. As I am getting older, I am starting to learn how chaining possessions can be. Even the level of security to guard them.”
It was likely that the people at the table were aware of the valuable artwork currently stored in the vault of this house. And yes, she was right. It took an inordinate level of effort to ensure the security was of the highest order. The insurance on such objects seemed to have updated requirements every month. “Yes, it would be freeing to get rid of it all. The financial advisors would baulk, I’m sure. They are investment vehicles, after all.” Very expensive investment vehicles, that had sufficiently good return to justify the security, not to mention a definite status. Only a select few could afford to invest in Rembrandts. Being one of the select few was what had been important to their father, and to men like Hassan Azmer.
Chapter 21
THE FOOD WAS BEAUTIFUL and Samara hadn’t expected anything less. The company was interesting, with the exception of veering into Klaus’ ventures, which were simply too technical to be interesting beyond wondering how far Klaus’ intelligence stretched. He clearly spent his days thinking about things no one else around here was. Dynamic algorithm updates and neural pathways sounded impressive, but only one person at this table understood what he was saying.
“Persephone has said you’re all distinguished tennis players,” Tristan said. Only Voila blushed.
“We practice,” Voila said brightly.
“The tennis instructors around here are very motivated,” Cheyenne said.
“Cheyenne!” Viola admonished, but her husband laughed, so it couldn’t be too scandalous. Cheyenne tended to mercilessly tease the young male instructors at the Athletics Club. In the past, while she’d been single, she might have done more than tease them, but since Klaus had entered her life, she’d put such things to side. Still liked to tease, though, and the young men tended to fumble. Saying that, after a while working at the club, they seemed to grow more comfortable with such teasing. So in a way, the implication of what Cheyenne was saying was in no doubt true.
“Do you play?”
“Not since my university days. I, frankly, don’t have time.”
“Shame. It’s wonderful exercise,” Cheyenne said.
For a mo
ment, Samara had to wonder if Cheyenne was now teasing him. There had been some crossing of paths in the past between this man and Cheyenne, if she recalled. By the look of him, he seemed neither embarrassed nor overly enthusiastic with her presence, which showed a bit of fortitude. It was difficult to respect men who didn’t own their dalliances, or blamed others for their behaviour.
There was no doubt the man was handsome. Hardly a surprise Cheyenne had been drawn to him. Pale skin and dark eyes. This was not a man who spent copious amounts of time in the sun.
The last thing she was interested in was a workaholic, who spent all of his time in board meetings and business dinners. Saying that, ambitious men with passion for what they did were attractive.
The girls had been pushing her to date, but she was struggling to find enthusiasm for it. Mostly she had no tolerance for drama at the moment, and she feared things would get awkward and pushy. Also she feared a man becoming too attached and wanting more than she was able to give right now. Certainly wouldn’t be rushing into another marriage in a hot minute.
“Winter sports are more my thing,” Tristan said and Samara had lost track of the conversation.
“Funnily, we’ve actually been talking about doing a ski trip on an upcoming weekend. One forgets, living here at times. I adore skiing,” Viola said, “and cosy evenings in a chalet. Can’t go wrong. We really should do it.”
“This time of the year, Scandinavia would probably have the best conditions,” Tristan said. “But the Alps would be sufficiently covered.”
“I adore St. Moritz. We really must plan a trip. A side trip to England on the way home,” Viola said, turning to her husband, who shrugged noncommittally. It made Samara wonder at the state of their marriage. A man showing such clear lack of enthusiasm was a red flag as far as she was concerned, but then Philip never seemed all that engaged, so perhaps this was perfectly normal. Saying that, another messy divorce was something they could do without. On the other hand, Philip was always polite and cordial, so it was hard to imagine him being brutal through a divorce.
Why couldn’t men just be dependable?
Tristan smiled at something Philip said. He really was a nice-looking man. There was a confidence and assurance about him that she liked. Confidence was always attractive in a man. A man who knew what he was and what he wanted. In this case, a man who had been forged through a bit of hardship. It was a consequence she was starting to recognise. It had a way of making one understand what was important and what wasn’t.
“I think we should,” Persephone said. She turned her attention to her brother. “A few days away will do us all good. I am sure you can tear yourself away from your reports for two days.”
Now that was an interesting question. Could he tear himself away for two days? What good was a man who could only commit to something in two month’s time?
“If you insist,” he said.
Well, well. A man who could rejig his schedule for something other than work. Interesting.
Looking over, she saw Cheyenne watching her. Her observation of Tristan hadn’t gone unnoticed. Cheyenne performed a little half shrug as if questioning if she’d be in. Cheyenne knew him better and she seemed to be suggesting she should give it a try. It did mean that Cheyenne approved, which she wouldn’t readily do for any guy. Cheyenne was picky and she didn’t like men who weren’t up to her standards—and they were very high. Apparently he passed.
Chapter 22
THE DRINKS WERE OUT, the food was ready, they’d even put up a welcome home banner for Adelaide, and now they waited for her to arrive. Apparently she’d told Trish not to come to the airport as her boyfriend had a car pick them up. That Adelaide had ended up with one of the rich boys had been a surprise. That they seemed a genuine couple was more of a surprise.
The run ins Solraya had had with that crowd had warned her that was a terrible idea, but Adelaide must have found a good one. Saying that, none of her friends seemed to know him all that well, so maybe this guy was the type that wanted the girl, but not her friends.
Perhaps she was being picky and nervous. It was just that her history with those guys told her they were careless and selfish. It could be that her experiences were tarnishing her openness to this relationship.
Her phone vibrated in her hand and she looked down, seeing Ricky’s face. Every few days, he messaged her, asking how she was and if she wanted to catch up. Couldn’t help thinking his attention was more than him just wanting a group of friends, because he didn’t seem to be pinging anyone else. Or he was the kind of guy who fell to pieces because some girl didn’t melt for him.
“You look worried,” Trish said as she sat down next to her on the daybed, a glass of wine in her hand.
“No, it’s just Ricky.”
“DJ Ricky?” Trish said with surprise. “Is he... being weird? He’s always been alright, but we’ve never known him well.”
“No, it’s just that he’s been in touch, like every few days.”
“Maybe he likes you?”
“I think he might,” Solraya admitted. “Except he’s with someone.”
Trish did a half shrug. “He’s a total player, so it’d be more surprising if he wasn’t. There isn’t a girl in town he hasn’t slept with. Maybe you not sleeping with him is sending him into a tailspin.”
Solraya smiled because she’d wondered the exact same thing. “I don’t know. When we met up, he was completely upfront about it. Some rebound thing. Maybe I should have stated straight up that it’s not going to happen. Not sure I actually said it in the end.”
“Maybe he hasn’t given up. Wait, you met up with him?”
“We went for a drink.”
“And he’s asking you out again? Like, are you completely opposed? He seems like a guy you could have a bit of light fun with. His relationships last like weeks, so it’s probably over by now.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Solraya said without enthusiasm. It may not be the time to mess around with some guy, light or not. Then again, the time to do so was running out. In six months, there wouldn’t be anything of the kind. It was basically now or never.
“Or if not, maybe just tell him you’re pregnant,” Trish suggested. “That’d be enough to put him off. See how fast he scarpers.”
“True,” Solraya said with a smile. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Because in many ways, this baby was a concept rather than something real in her life, and she struggled to see the two mix. Maybe that was the source of her unease about everything. This baby wasn’t real to her yet, and she had no idea what the impact was going to be on her life. In fact, she had no fucking idea what she was doing.
“Or maybe you just need to tell him to fuck off.”
“Yeah,” Solraya said absently, but was distracted by Adelaide’s arrival. She bounded into the space, her hair long and lush. Otherwise, she looked no different from how Solraya remembered. They hadn’t spent much time together, only a few days before Solraya had left here.
“Oh my god,” Adelaide said after she’d finished hugging the girls. “How are you here?”
“Just visiting,” Solraya said with a smile, but it wasn’t strictly true. You couldn’t say you were visiting when you’d packed up your whole life and you had nowhere to go back to. “Kind of,” she finished.
“She’s preggers,” Trish said.
“What?” Adelaide said in shock, looking down at her belly, which wasn’t showing at all. “Really. Fuck. Wow. That…? What are you going to do?
“Head home. Just hanging out a bit first.”
“’Course. It’s good to see you. So good to be back.”
“So you’re back to stay?” Trish asked.
“Seems that way.”
“What are you going to do?” Chrissy asked.
“No fucking idea,” Adelaide said.
“I suppose you don’t have to work,” Chrissy said, which was a strange thing to focus on literally a minute after she’d arrived, but then again, it was probably true. She certainly
didn’t have to work at Shine, dancing every night.
“I’m studying at the moment,” Adelaide said.
“Cool,” Chrissy said noncommittally. There was a terseness Solraya hadn’t expected, but it was definitely perceivable.
Adelaide wandered off to say hello to Corey and the boys, Chrissy followed.
“What was up with that?” she asked Trish.
“Chrissy’s been weird ever since Adelaide got together with Quentin,” Trish said quietly. “Never really resolved, and I guess it still hasn’t. Like, bitter.” she finished.
It sounded like Chrissy was jealous. The girl had always been competitive, even as a young kid. Then again, there could be some other reason for it. “There’s no history there that’s beneath it all?” With her experience with those boys, they toyed and discarded, caring nothing about who they hurt. She’d be disappointed if Adelaide took up with a guy who’d hurt Chrissy. That would be a shit move.
“No. Everything was fine until Adelaide started seeing Quentin, and then Chrissy started picking on everything. We actually moved out for a while because of it.”
Solraya hadn’t known any of this. “Was there something between this guy and Chrissy?”
“As far as I know, they’ve never even spoken.”
Well that was a whole other thing if that was true. Had to be sheer jealousy. And although she felt duty bound to be loyal to family, she could kind of see how Chrissy would do that. Chrissy wasn’t the most self-aware person that ever lived.
Chapter 23
“I’M NOT SURE I WANT TO GO,” Annabel said, coming out of the bathroom, wearing a dress that Inns knew wouldn’t be something the girls around here would even contemplate. Annabel always prided herself that she believed fashion was utterly useless, and mostly, he agreed. Except he also knew that it mattered here. “They’re just vapid and boring, frankly.”
