The Heart of Bali
Rebecca Raisin
The Heart of Bali
Rebecca Raisin
What happens when your break from real life shows you exactly how empty it actually is?
Focused and driven, Aurora has built her PR and event management company into a thriving success. But, it’s come at a cost. Her relationships suffer, and she has virtually no social life. When her boyfriend suggests a holiday to mend the bridges, it seems like a good idea to rekindle their attraction and make some new life choices. Instead, she finds herself in the tropical paradise of Bali, heartbroken and alone.
When Marcel, the hotelier, offers to show her the real Bali, she doesn’t hesitate—he might be just the pick-me-up she needs. Pinning Marcel as a Casanova, Aurora decides to have fun and not overthink things. Exploring her more sensual side brings a newfound confidence, and she finds herself falling for the French hotelier and the Bali he shows her...until an unexpected visitor arrives at the hotel.
As her holiday draws to a close, will Aurora choose to leave with good memories, or follow her heart?
About the Author
Rebecca Raisin juggles her love of writing, reading, and playing with her five-year-old twins. When her partner throws expectations of home-cooked meals and a desire for a clean house into the mix you have one busy writer. I mean reader. Mother. Chef. Domestic goddess.
She resides in Perth, though often pretends she lives in France. And somehow French men and French food keep creeping into her stories. She’d like nothing better than to live in Paris and channel Ernest Hemingway, but until then she’ll make do with a plate of macarons and her imagination.
Acknowledgements
Thank you to Kate Cuthbert for reading my work and allowing me to become a coveted Escape artist. It’s been a goal of mine, and I’m thrilled to finally be joining the ranks of so many successful writers.
This novella wouldn’t have been written without the help of a great friend, writer, and critique partner extraordinaire, Lisa Swallow. Thank you, Lisa for all your hard work, and for reading the schmexy bits, when they still sounded remarkably like an Ikea instruction manual, and having the grace to tell me what needed improvement. My writing journey would be hollow without you.
Thank you members of Ellenbrook writers group: Deb, Lisa, Jake, Alyssa, Michelle and Laura. And the honorary Mary. I’m not sure how I ever lived without you! You’re my cult, my people, and fans of the killer hook. Times spent discussing our shared passion is truly a gift. I’m in awe of you all.
EWG Princess Alyssa, I can’t wait to see where writing takes you. You are amazing in every way, and the nicest person I know. Even my babies love you, Green girl.
Jake Styles, my computer guru! Thank you for your constant and immediate help when I can’t do simple things. I’m a technophobe. Your writing is magical, too.
Thank you, Mum, the best proofreader, and Nana ever—I’d be lost without you. Rachel, the greatest twin sister a girl could have, thank you for the multitude of things you do, including letting me shut myself away to write when you’re here.
Troy boy, thanks for being an amazing friend, and for reading my work! You have an eagle eye for typos! I look forward to more adventures this year!
Thank you, Ashley, for helping me pursue my dreams of being a writer. There’s nothing better than sitting outside, sipping wine, and discussing my characters with you. Except when your eyes glaze over. I love you more than words can say.
And to my favourite people, my babies, Jaxson and William. My little rock stars. You are the coolest kids, ever. Between us, I think you get that from me. I love you to infinity and beyond. Times infinity.
For David Woodcock.
I know how much you wanted to get there.
Contents
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…
Chapter 1
Aurora watched the tiny crabs sidestep from the cerulean ocean and burrow into the sand further along the shore. There were thousands of them on the Balinese beach, yet people just inched slowly around, seemingly not worried about getting nipped by them.
From the safety of the resort bar, Aurora sipped on a bright orange cocktail, and leant back into the sun lounge. Hotels were certainly different here to her home in Australia. The pool, with crystal clear water, sparkled in the sunlight. At the shallow end, children splashed and frolicked, their squeals of delight punctuating the air. Closer to Aurora was the deeper end of the pool, where adults sat on bar stools immersed in the water.
Waiters fluttered around, huge smiles lighting up their faces. It was an idyllic place. Time moved slowly, and the heat, the lazy days, took it out of her. She glanced at her watch; it was just past lunch. Probably too early for a second cocktail, but who was going to know?
A sigh escaped her lips as she pictured Denny sitting in the chair beside her. He would have jumped up to take photos of the crabs, laughed in that sing-songy way of his, and marvelled at the smallest things in this paradise.
Or, maybe not. Maybe he would have sat next to her, his eyes disguised by designer sunnies, gaze following bikini-clad girls around without Aurora noticing. Schmoozing women at the bar when he went and billing another drink to her account. If there was one thing Denny did well, it was spend her money. Three years, she thought, and for what? This was meant to be their first holiday together. A romantic interlude on a beachside bungalow in Kuta.
Tears trickled down her face, and she was glad her oversized sunglasses hid her swollen, red eyes. She was in a tropical haven for lovers, yet she was alone. Her best friend Bessie had offered to come with her, but she couldn’t face anyone. Not yet.
The hotel manager breezed past, waving at the swimmers in the pool, and pointing to empty glasses that littered tables. Heads turned toward him as he strode through, his tall frame and strong broad shoulders commanding attention. The staff dashed to clean the tables before assembling for their regular lunchtime meeting. For three days, Aurora had sat in the same spot, pretending to read a novel, and watched them. They giggled and pushed each other and looked as though they loved their jobs. Marcel the manager, a Frenchman of all things, laughed along with them, and they seemed to respect him. Aurora wondered how a man from France ended up running a resort in Bali.
The crabs had moved on by the time Aurora glanced back to the beach. She sipped the last of her drink and pondered whether she should hide in her room to avoid the frenzy of the lunchtime rush, or wander into town. She gathered up her magazines and her book and stuffed them into her tote.
‘Leaving so soon, Mademoiselle?’ said Marcel.
Aurora hadn’t seen him approach, and was momentarily startled. She shaded her face with her hand. ‘Yes, I was thinking I might take a walk through the markets for a while.’ His deep brown eyes sparkled with vitality. He ran a hand through his shiny black hair which Aurora noted was a touch too long, curling around his ears. His aftershave—a spicy, nutty fragrance—reminded her of this place. Exotic and mysterious.
‘Would you care for a companion?’
Aurora wished she’d taken the time to put on make-up. Instead she’d only bothered with a smear of sunscreen. And she hadn’t washed her long blonde hair in days, simply putting it up in a loose ponytail.
‘Sure,’ she said averting her eyes. What if she had to take her sunglasses off? It’d be obvious she’d been crying for three days. ‘Can you give me ten minutes to freshen up?’
‘Of course. Take your time. I’ll be in the foyer when you’re ready.’ He winked and walked away.
She couldn’t help notice the way his beige linen pants hugged his backside as he strode. He was muscula
r and she wondered what his chest looked like hidden under the white t-shirt that fit snugly over his torso. A flush came over her. What was she thinking? Denny’s desertion still weighed heavily in her heart. Grabbing her bag, she jogged to her room. Ten minutes to try and work magic on her puffy red eyes.
* * *
Assessing herself in the mirror, Aurora was impressed. You would never know by looking at her that she’d spent the better part of three days quietly weeping alone in her room. Max Factor was a miracle worker.
She threw on a light pink cotton dress and spritzed on her coconut and vanilla perfume.
Heading into the opulent marble foyer, she spotted Marcel with an employee. He gesticulated with his hands as he spoke, laughter lighting up his face. She liked that he always smiled. The employee was rapt by whatever Marcel was saying. He seemed to have that influence over people, drawing them in, making them feel special.
Imagine living here, she mused. It would be like a constant holiday. So different to her job, where she worked long hours at her own company – a public relations and event management business. A job which often took over her social life. But as hard as it was, she thrived on it. It had taken her years to build it into a successful and well-known enterprise. Even when it had looked bleak in the beginning, she never lost focus. She just threw herself into work, hoping the long hours and determination would prove beneficial for her customers. And it did. Aurora had to turn clients away these days. It was a luxury choosing them based on their merits and not the other way around.
Marcel turned towards her as she neared. She waved and tried not to fidget. It was only a shopping trip, after all.
‘You look beautiful,’ he whispered and kissed her gently on each cheek.
Flustered, she tugged at her dress and tried to ignore the fact her heart was racing. ‘Thank you.’
‘Shall we walk? There are a few places I want to show you.’
‘Sounds great.’
Marcel led her by her elbow to the sidewalk. ‘Have you been to Bali before?’
‘No, first time. Which is odd for an Australian, I know.’ Aurora delved into her handbag for her sunglasses as the bright sunshine blinded her. The smell of patchouli and sandalwood permeated the air from little shrines set up as offerings to the gods. Vibrant and colourful, the small structures lined the streets and thin spirals of scented smoke wafted hazily from incense sticks.
‘Yes,’ said Marcel, stopping to wait for her. ‘It’s like a rite of passage for Aussies. They come here in droves.’
‘Cheap flights, an exotic destination, what more can you ask for?’ Aurora veered out of the way of other tourists on the bustling street. Hawkers held their wares, and motioned for her to step into their shops. She shook her head and kept close to Marcel.
‘How does a Frenchman end up in Bali?’
‘Ah…that is the question,’ he replied, a smile lighting up his face. ‘I travelled a lot in my early thirties. Ended up here twenty or so years ago and fell in love with the people, the place. The hotel, the one you’re staying in, was being sold for a crazy sum, too cheap really, and I thought it was fate. I bought it without much thought, and have loved every minute of it. It’s a business like any other, but we take our time, we enjoy what we do.’
‘So you don’t miss France?’ Whilst Bali was a tropical paradise, Aurora thought of France with its grand old buildings and rich history, the way French people oozed sophistication – it would be hard to leave.
‘Yes, of course, I miss the food…’
‘Spoken like a true Frenchman,’ she laughed.
‘Oui,’ he said with a wink. ‘But there is something inherently different here. Life is tough for most of the Indonesians. They work hard, and they don’t get paid much, but they are considerably happier than most people. They have an energy, a buzz…it’s contagious.’ Marcel paused, his palms faced upwards before his hands began to move in rhythm with his speech again. ‘I love it here. They make me appreciate all the little things in life. Waking up to a glorious sunrise, perfect weather. It’s impossible not to be happy. But yes, a good chunk of brie and a bottle of burgundy and I’d be in heaven!’
Happy, shiny-faced tourists lined the bustling streets filled with stalls grilling satay sticks, the sound of the ocean roaring in the distance, hawkers and shop owners spruiking their wares. Thick columned temples sat on every corner, where hauntingly beautiful pipe music rang out. It was a type of nirvana. Right now, Aurora could imagine staying here forever too, forgetting her troubles, and living simply for the thrill of it. For a brief moment she pictured herself free from incessant phone calls, not chained to her laptop. Swapping her heels for thongs, and her business suits for bathers. A to-do list which consisted of just one thing. Fun. Aurora shook the thought away. She’d never be able to give up her career. She flourished under pressure, and found her work a comfort – as hectic as it was.
They continued walking through the throng of people. Women in swimsuits with sarongs tied around their waists and men in brightly coloured board shorts and Bintang singlets. Aussie tourists by the sound of their chatter.
‘So,’ she began, ‘does your family still live in France?’
Marcel turned and looked directly at her. ‘Yes. My family would never travel here, but I go home regularly to visit my parents. When the wet season comes and after the Christmas festivities, Bali quietens down. Then I return to Provence.’
What a life. Travelling between Bali and France. Two wholly different places, each beautiful in their own way.
‘So you’re not tempted to stay in Provence when you finally pour that Burgundy and eat as much brie as you can stomach?’ she teased.
He threw his head back and laughed. ‘Tempted, yes. But one can have too much of a good thing, you know.’ He smiled at her.
She blushed and fumbled with the strap of her tote bag.
‘Let’s stop for a drink.’ He gestured towards a small bar, with outdoor tables shaded by silken fuchsia umbrellas.
‘Sure.’
Aurora sat, glad to be out of the heat. She pushed her sunglasses atop her head and watched Marcel from under her lashes. His olive skin was luminous, glowing with vitality. From what he’d said, she guessed he was in his fifties but he looked much younger. She calculated a fifteen year age gap between them, and then caught herself. Why was she even considering their ages? It’s only a shopping trip!
A waiter appeared and smiled when he recognised Marcel.
‘Hey, boss man!’ he said, slapping Marcel’s back good-naturedly.
‘Hello, Wayan. How’s business?’
Wayan shook his hand to imply so-so. ‘What about you? Busy?’
‘So-so, too. This is my new friend Aurora.’
‘Pretty name, pretty lady,’ Wayan said with a flirtatious smile.
Aurora blushed. All the Indonesian men flirted with the female tourists, it was second nature to them and while she didn’t believe a word of what they said, their easy smiles were so sweet, she found it charming.
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
‘Drinks?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘What about a Wayan cocktail? I give you good luck price!’
Aurora laughed. ‘Good luck price?’
Wayan grinned back. ‘First order of the day, so I give you special good luck price!’ Everything he said seemed to end in an exclamation. His good humour was infectious.
‘How can I argue with that?’ Aurora looked over to Marcel who nodded in acknowledgment. ‘Thank you. We’ll have two Wayan specials.’
Wayan clapped his hands together and rushed off to concoct their drinks.
Aurora relaxed into the chair, her mood brightened by the cheery Wayan. ‘He called you boss man. Do you own this place too?’
Marcel flipped a coaster over, and absently tapped it against the table. ‘No, no. All of the locals call me boss man. They call foreigners who own businesses here that…well, if they like them, that is.’ A smile played at the corners of his mouth.<
br />
Wayan bustled over with two topaz coloured drinks with straws and pieces of pineapple perched on the side of the glasses.
They took the proffered drinks, and thanked him.
A gaggle of customers walked in. Wayan bent and whispered conspiratorially, ‘See? Good luck price.’ He pointed to the group waiting at the bar. ‘You bring me good luck. Lots of customers.’ He grinned at her and rushed to the bar.
Euphoria dazzled Aurora senses. The locals were so quirky with their beliefs, it was impossible not to feel inspired by them. They genuinely believed in kismet, and were ecstatic when it went their way.
Marcel tilted toward the table. ‘So, Aurora, what brings you to Bali?’
She took a sip of her drink and frantically tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound pitiful. Would Marcel know her room had been booked for a couple?
‘Just a quick trip, you know, to recharge the batteries.’
He looked at her, his gaze piercing. She turned away, worried he’d see something in her expression to hint at her heartbreak.
‘And by yourself? No one is meeting you here later, perhaps?’
She coughed, and looked back to him. ‘No, no. Just me. I wanted some time to soak up the sun, and…’ She broke off mid-sentence as he clasped her hand, taking her by surprise. His palm was smooth and warm. Her breath caught and for a moment she imagined herself falling in love with Marcel. Immediately she shook the thought away. He must have noticed her forlorn demeanour over the last few days and simply wanted to cheer her up. He’s French, remember. Expressive with his hands.
‘Well, that settles it then,’ he said.
Trying her best to keep her voice level, she said, ‘Settles what?’
‘I’m going to be your official tour guide. I’ll take you to some places off the beaten track that most tourists don’t know about…that’s if you want to?’
Her pulse quickened. ‘Sounds wonderful. I’ve had enough sun to last me a few days.’
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