The offers had subsequently flooded in: interviews; TV-show appearances; magazine spreads; modelling contracts … she’d been inundated. Even more sublime was the fact that she was, to all intents and purposes, largely perceived as a victim. After all she hadn’t meant to make a sex tape, and certainly hadn’t intended for it ever to be in the public domain. But it had been the biggest blessing in disguise, as now she and JJ were now the modern day Pammie and Tommy, a bona fide celebrity couple.
Her dreams had become reality: fame, money, notoriety, an agent and a rock-star boyfriend – perhaps she always would have realised her ambitions but Pleasure Island had certainly escalated the process for her and as much as she never wanted to relieve it, she could not regret it. She had even gone on record and finally spoken about the abuse she had suffered as a child and was working closely with a charity that helped survivors of similar backgrounds.
It had deeply saddened Nate to learn about Bee’s suffering through the press; she had never opened up to him throughout their marriage but in a way her confession explained a lot. Nate supposed he was pleased for her of sorts; despite her infidelities he could not bring himself to hate her. Billie-Jo had got what she wanted, what she needed, at the end of the day. Then again, he supposed so had he.
‘Any word from Mia?’ Angelika asked.
‘Actually, yes. I got a text. She and Richard are hoping to come and visit as soon as she’s finished in the studio. She’s been asked to act as one of the judges on the Wow-Factor.’
Angelika raised an eyebrow.
‘Wow indeed! And …?’
‘She says she’s “considering her options, darling”.’
The both laughed good-humouredly. Nate was beginning to come to terms with the knowledge that Mia was his mother, an idea that no longer seemed as shocking and preposterous as it initially had. He was happy for her that she had since been reunited with her ex-husband. Dickie had been waiting for Mia as she’d stepped off the plane.
‘Good grief, woman,’ he’d said as she had collapsed into his arms, ‘no more drama, you said.’
‘Where’s your wife?’ Mia had asked through her sobs.
‘She ran off with someone … older,’ he said. ‘She couldn’t bear being in your shadow any longer.’
‘Oh, Richard.’ Mia had held onto him so tightly he’d barely been able to draw breath comfortably.
‘We’re taking things slowly, darling … letting it happen organically,’ Mia had told Nate in the text, though knowing Mia as he did, he doubted it. She’d had something of a career renaissance too, thanks to all the publicity, and had taken full advantage of the interest that surrounded her on the back of it by promptly bringing out a back catalogue of her music while promising a new album and tour.
‘Strike while the iron’s hot, my dear,’ Bailey had advised her. Despite promising to, she had been unable to sack him in the end, silly old bastard; all those years counted for something, didn’t they, even in the most uneasy of relationships?
In spite of how he had discovered the truth, Nate was now glad that he had. They were getting to know each other gently, establish a relationship and he was slowly, surely coming to accept Mia’s explanations as to why she had given him up. It felt good to learn about his past, listen to the stories she had told him about family and relatives he’d never known, piece his life history together. He doubted he would ever call her ‘mum’ but he hadn’t completely ruled the idea out; after all, above all people he knew that stranger things could, and did, happen.
‘I think this is cause for celebration, what do you say?’ He produced a bottle of Chateau d’Esclans Whispering Angel rose champagne from an ice bucket he’d deliberately hidden underneath the table earlier. It was the first time they’d drank champagne since they’d left the island.
‘You planned this …’ Angelika smiled at him through narrow eyes.
‘Guilty as charged.’ He grinned, popping the cork and messily filling two glasses.
‘To being a free woman.’ He touched her glass with his.
It sounded odd. She was no longer Mrs Angelika Deyton, no longer Rupert’s wife. It felt good.
‘No,’ she said, ‘let’s not drink to my freedom. Let’s drink to … Martin McKenzie.’
‘McKenzie …?’
They had barely been able to bring themselves to say the man’s name aloud in ten months, let alone raise a toast to him. The fact that Nate had discovered he was his biological father had been perhaps the most distressing of the whole sorry episode.
‘What if I’ve got his twisted genes and just don’t know it,’ he’d said to Angelika earnestly one morning in bed together. ‘What if his sickness is in my DNA?’
‘Oh, Nate, darling.’ Angelika had held him close, stroked his soft hair between her fingers. ‘Remember what I said about nature, nurture that time on the island, down by the pool? No child is born evil.’ She’d reassured him, though in truth she wasn’t entirely convinced this was true; perhaps some people were born to develop into monsters, men like Martin McKenzie. Either way, she knew in her heart that the man lying next to her, whatever his biological provenance, was not one of them.
There had been no irony lost on the fact that McKenzie’s fate had been to die in one of his own private jets, with the added bonus of a bullet to his brain. When the authorities had discovered the aircraft wreckage and the three bodies within it, part of Angelika couldn’t help but feel cheated. By all accounts McKenzie’s death had been mercifully swift, his suffering short-lived; he had died, somewhat ironically, in a plane crash and would never be held accountable, made to pay for his crimes or suffer the humiliation of his public fall from grace. Elaine’s remains, a skull and some teeth, had been found washed up off the island of Santorini some months later. The coroner had recorded a verdict of suspicious death as it had been ascertained that she had received a large, blunt trauma to the side of her head prior to her death and was probably still alive when she’d hit the water. Poor Elaine; in a way she had been McKenzie’s biggest victim of all.
‘Why would you want to make a toast to him?’
She smiled at him, so handsome, so adoring and kind, so different to what she’d always known. Angelika opened her laptop and began to read.
‘Chapter One: I suppose if nothing else it will make the ultimate story for the grandchildren one day when they ask, “how did you and granddad meet?” I’ll admit I have pre-empted this question, given much thought as to how, when that times comes, to answer them, to make sense of the nonsensical, explain the unexplainable. It’s usual for a writer to place their acknowledgments at the end of a book, but I no longer care much for protocol these days and so I would like to start by thanking Martin McKenzie. Now I know what you may be thinking, why on earth should I show a man like that any gratitude whatsoever, so let me explain: without Martin McKenzie I would not be sitting here with the love of my life, on the balcony of our modest-yet-charming home, sipping on a glass of the local wine – just the one glass, mind, now that I’m in the family way... ’
Nate’s eyes widened and he almost spat out his champagne.
‘You’re kidding me … you’re pregnant?’
His expression had been even more priceless than she’d imagined.
‘Yes!’ She giggled. ‘We’re having a baby.’
He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed.
‘A baby … my God, I love you, Ange.’ He kissed her lips and they tasted of French toast and champagne.
‘I love you too, Nate,’ she said as he carried her from the patio into the bedroom and laid her softly down onto the bed.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured as he gently untied her silky robe to expose her naked skin beneath and began to kiss her neck.
She thought once more about the pleasure/pain principle, how one could not seemingly exist without the other, the yin to its yang, only she had a suspicion that there would be far more of the former than the latter in her life now. She was done with pain; from now on i
t was going to be pleasure all the way.
Letter from Anna-Lou Weatherley
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, dear reader, for choosing Pleasure Island, I truly hope you gained as much pleasure reading it as I did writing it. In many ways, this book saved me as it was written during a difficult time in my life, but as the old adage says, where there’s pleasure, there’s pain!
One of my favourite things about being an author is receiving feedback and comments from you, the people who read my books. Your reactions are very important to me and I’d love to know what you thought about Pleasure Island. Who was your favourite character and why? Were you routing for Angelika and Nate and the sexual tension between them? Did McKenzie give you the chills, or did you love Billie-Jo’s flawed naughtiness? Did you guess that Mia and Nate were linked and did you fall in love with the island itself? Did you expect the twists and turns that I so enjoyed creating for you?
These, among others, are things I would love to know so if you enjoyed the story it would be fabulous if you could leave a review and let me, and others know why. Your feedback means everything to me and if it encourages others to read one of my novels and share the pleasure (or pain) then that’s wonderful and I thank you in advance.
If you want to keep up-to-date on my new releases, or view my past ones, just click on the link below to sign up for my special newsletter.
Anna Lou Weatherley New Releases Email
You’ll need to give your email but I will never share it with anyone and only contact you when I have a new release, promise.
I’m busy writing my next novel, another dark, delectable tale filled with fabulously flawed characters, sinful secrets, deception, unexpected twists, drama and suspense. I hope you’re going to love it! I will keep you posted.
Much love,
Anna-Lou x
@annaloulondon
annalouweatherley.com
Also by Anna-Lou Weatherley
Chelsea Wives
(published as Vengeful Wives in the US)
* * *
Wicked Wives
Pleasure Island Page 34
