Marbella Beauty

by Oster, Camille

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We should probably head back.”

  Cheryl blinked. There he went again, did something sweet, only to back it by way of undoing it. Here, I’ll save your business, then I’ll resent it. We’ll be friends, then I’ll stab you. But this might have been the worst of all. Have a taste, but don’t think it means something. Was he simply toying with her? She’d fallen for it again. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to do it; maybe he just messed with people without even realising it.

  Stroking her knuckle along her lips, she tried to dissipate the sensation that lingered. “Perhaps it is time for me to go home.” She was done with the head fuck that was Dominic Dunbury. That dream that someone like him would come along and swipe her off her feet had to be killed and buried. He might have a modicum of interest in her, but at the end of the day, she was too low for someone like him. It might just be that he was having a hard time admitting that to himself. How stupid could she be? Fairy tales were for telling children the world wasn’t as sucky as it appeared to be. But guess what? They weren’t true. That was the point.

  Chapter 71

  Drawing the curtains back, Cheyenne looked out the large window. Beverly Hills lay out there, basking in sunlight, a light breeze shifting through the fronds of the tall palm trees. In the nude, she stood there and didn’t care if anyone saw her.

  There was a certain excitement taking on a new place, and LA was vast. Every sort of person existed in this city, but the bulk of them wanted fame. Fame held no interest for Cheyenne. It was a fool’s game. The right people didn’t care about fame. Power was the real game, and there were plenty of people here who had it.

  Beauty and a title would get her anything she wanted in this city, but again, it was power she sought. She certainly wasn’t going to be running after casting agents like every modestly pretty piece of arse roaming the parties in the hills.

  The Spanish boy stirred in the bed, but didn’t rise. Cheyenne considered whether she should ride him again before going out, but didn’t want to be late. She slipped a dress over her lithe body, bright colours and more revealing. The clothes here were that bit more everything than in Marbella. British conservatism still held there, but not here. Here it was all for show and if you had nothing to show, you were nothing. “Entertain yourself for the day,” she said as she strode out of the room, the thick carpet absorbing the sound of her steps.

  A car waited for her outside the lobby and drove down the manicured streets until she reached a familiar row of shops, including the salon she frequented whenever in town. Her agency had initially set her up with it and she saw no reason to stop.

  “Vallie,” she said as she walked in, kissing her consultant on the cheek. The place was packed, but it pleased her to know Vallie still made room for her on short notice. Her power in that regard hadn’t diminished.

  “Cheyenne, gorgeous Cheyenne,” Vallie said, smiling with unnaturally white teeth. “It’s been absolute ages. Look at you, all chic. Haven’t seen you in town for a while. Are you working?”

  “I might take on a bit of work, but it’s not my priority.” She probably wouldn’t bother working. Money wasn’t an object and what she sought wasn’t in the fashion industry.

  Vallie led her to a chromed chair and she selected from the array of magazines waiting for her. “A treatment, I think,” he said. “We could use a touch of colour, as well. I think we should go a little lighter. This is LA, after all.”

  “Only a touch,” she said and smiled into the mirror. Vallie always knew what looked good on her. That was what she paid his extravagant prices for.

  “It really is good to see you again. How long are you here for?”

  “A few months, maybe. I haven’t decided. How is everyone?”

  “Fabulous. Gems totally lost the plot. Locked up in rehab for the near future, but she never could keep things under control. It was only a matter of time before she started fucking up. Then Daria, who split with that husband of hers. It was never going to last. I don’t understand how she thought it would. Some dogs you just can’t train. Also, Beljune got dropped from Core Management and she did not take it well. Went out like a pissed off viper. Had to leave town for a while. Bought a ranch down in Texas or something, out of pure spite, if you ask me. Tough business. New girls coming every year.”

  It certainly was. Cheyenne was glad she got out before she got kicked out. There was nothing sadder than a fading model. This way, she still had some clout and could potentially book a job or two. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, but only if you were the one who left.

  “So what are you here for? LA isn’t your stomp,” Vallie asked with raised eyebrows. He knew her too well.

  “There is a certain someone I have my eye on.”

  Vallie smiled coyly. “I knew you were here for a reason. Who?”

  With a varnished finger, Cheyenne tapped on a photo in her magazine—a handsome man with a stunningly beautiful woman on his arm.

  “Ambitious,” Vallie said with an impressed look, “but then nothing ever held you back, did it?”

  “It is, of course, a set I don’t know well,” Cheyenne said and pursed her lips.

  “Is that so?”

  “Come on, Vallie, I know you can short cut the bullshit and make some introductions for me.”

  “I might be able to make a call or two, get you to the right parties.” People underestimated the networks good hairdressers had. They knew everyone and knew all the gossip. Unlike some, Vallie could keep a secret if it was required of him, which made him extremely popular with a set that required discretion. “It will be interesting to see if you can catch a fish like that.”

  Checking her reflection in the mirror, she knew she could. Until recently, she’d said she never failed, but that wasn’t entirely true. Dominic’s rejection hurt; Alexi’s desertion worse. But she was still Cheyenne and in the end, she got what she wanted, one way or another. The game certainly wasn’t over. And right now, her aim was to make those bitches in Marbella quiver in their Manolo Blahniks. This man was going to do that for her. He was unstoppable and the perfect piece of leverage.

  Biting her lips together, she considered the photo of him. She hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed in him; she had a good feeling she wouldn’t be.

  Chapter 72

  Paul waited patiently by Alice’s door. He felt nervous, but he always did around her. It wasn’t her, exactly, as she was the sweetest person he knew, but the situation, the hopes he had for them. The picnic hamper sat in the back of the car and he waited for her to come to the door.

  When she did, she wore a pale yellow dress, her dark hair neatly trimmed. He didn’t know whether to kiss her or not, or what was appropriate in their rather unique situation, but at least she’d agreed to come.

  He’d probably spent a little too much on this picnic, purchasing a whole mezze plate and three kinds of salads, but he didn’t want the food to be wrong. This picnic was the thing that would put their relationship back on track, and he wanted nothing to go wrong.

  “Please,” he said, opening the door for her, then wondering if that was the wrong thing to do. Some women apparently didn’t like it, but Alice didn’t say anything.

  He drove and the conversation was awkward and stilted, more so in its absence. “I found this little park right by the beach. I thought we could go there. Obviously, it isn’t like a proper country picnic, but it will do.”

  “That sounds nice. It’s been years since I’ve been on a picnic.”

  Paul felt as if he’d done something right. Perhaps this had been a good idea, after all.

  The drive wasn’t long and he pulled over into a park along the road, grabbing the picnic hamper as he got out. Should he hold her hand? Was that too sappy? He just didn’t want to do anything wrong. The park he’d chosen was good. Jogger occasionally ran past, but otherwise, it was quite a secluded spot.

  The blanket he’d bought had a plastic layer on the bottom to ensure wetness di
dn’t seep up from the grass. He unloaded the basket and soon there were plates all around them. “I might have gone overboard a bit.”

  “There’s enough food here for a week,” she said with a smile.

  “I just didn’t want to forget something.”

  “No fear of that.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Grabbing a plate, she started to nibble and he watched her, recorded the things she chose and liked, and what she avoided. “Aren’t you eating?”

  “Honestly, I’m too nervous to eat.”

  “What is there to be nervous about?”

  “I just really want this to go well. I really like you and I know I just about scuttled things with that unfortunate episode. To be honest, I haven’t been excited about spending time with anyone since long before my divorce, and that includes… Cheyenne.”

  “Did you like her?”

  “No, I couldn’t stand her, really, but she seemed to know my weaknesses.”

  “And what are those exactly?” Alice said, a mischievous look in her eyes that he hadn’t thought she was capable of. Now he was even more nervous.

  “Well, I don’t know if weaknesses is the right word. But she did have a way of taking. In the beginning, I didn’t mind, if I’m completely honest, but then I met you, and I did mind, very much.”

  “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

  “I doubt you have.”

  “Oh, I’ve had my moments. When my marriage was falling apart, I did some questionable things with people I shouldn’t have, people far too young for me.”

  “You’ve led a veritable double life.” Paul acted shocked, but it did make him feel better. He was guilty of putting her on a pedestal, and that was perhaps unfair. He sighed. “I don’t want to hide anything from you,” he said after a while. “You’re the one I want to share things with. The one I want to come home to. I don’t want drama, or guilt. I just want something lovely.”

  Alice stared down onto her plate for a moment, before looking up into his eyes. “Don’t you think that’s too much to ask?” The hurt inside her was there for him to see, in entirety.

  “No. I think it’s worth the risk. If it were true, wouldn’t it be everything?”

  “What are you asking?”

  “I don’t want to leave tonight. I don’t want to leave tomorrow. I don’t care where; let’s just be together.”

  He simply had to kiss her. The urge overcame him and he drew her to him, and she welcomed it, straddling him as his lips sought hers. His arms wrapped around her body, holding her to him. Everything about her, about them, was perfect. His tongue surged into her mouth, seeking more, everything.

  Small moans reverberated through his mouth, his and hers. Her thighs around him, he was rock hard. It had been so long since they’d been together in Madrid, but he’d dreamt about being with her.

  Picking such a public place had been a mistake, because what he wanted to do was not for public view, but here they were, in a park, acting like teenagers. Breaking the kiss, he collected his breath. “Let’s go home. Screw the picnic.”

  Her hips ground down on him and he groaned. “Are you sure?”

  “What’s there to be sure about? Will you have me? And I’m not just talking about right now; although I would accept that if that was all there was.”

  “Let’s not talk.” Her hand on his cheek, she kissed him again, her hips bearing down on him and renewed tension flared up his entire body.

  Lifting her off him, he tried to right himself. “Let’s go.”

  “What about the picnic?”

  “It might be here when we get back.”

  With a smile, she rose, the action making him catch a nice sight of her thigh. Adrenaline coursed throughout his entire body. They ran to the car and got in. He felt like a Formula One driver in his eagerness to get through these roads. Her fingers were entwined with his. “So it’s you and me now?” he asked. It was a statement as much as a question. He didn’t want to take this slowly; he wanted it settled—the whole shebang.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am probably more sure of this than anything in my life before.” He was going to marry this girl and they were going to be happy. He knew it. It was a surety he knew in his bones. She was the one. He hadn’t even been this sure about his first wife. Alice was his future and they had so many things to do together. It felt like a whole new life was opening up before him.

  And some perplexed person was probably right now finding a whole picnic set up and waiting. He could imagine them looking around, trying to figure out what was going on. Or some dog off their leash was tucking into some very expensive picnic food.

  Chapter 73

  Come over, the text said. Alistair didn’t have a photo on her phone, just the generic contact symbol and his number, which was a UK number. Everyone else had Spanish numbers, but he’d never switched over.

  Terese put her phone down. She was leaving in the morning, flying back to Berlin. In many ways, she couldn’t wait to get home, back to the life she’d set up exactly like she wanted it. There were some things she was going to miss—her parents, doing holiday things with Parmi, which for Parmi was just normal things. Then there was Alistair, who she kept on opening her legs for—which was exactly what he was texting about. Come over and let’s fuck, he could have said. That whole issue was too fraught to even consider whether she was going to miss it—miss him.

  On some level, dealing with him had been draining, from the very moment she’d laid eyes on him. Still, she so badly wanted to get in her car and drive over there. She should be strong, should spend the evening hanging out with her parents. They were the reason she’d come here, not to play hot and heavy with Alistair Cartright.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to quell the hum of excitement in her body. She came so hard with him. It just about tore her apart, took everything. Was she addicted to it? To him? God, she hoped not.

  It was better to ignore the text and just get on with her life. Tomorrow, she needed to turn her mind towards her work and her life. Her fridge was empty at home and she needed to fill it. There was washing to do, no doubt tonnes of mail to sift through.

  But he snuck into her head; she could practically hear his voice. Come over. Was he waiting for her? Was he as caught up in wanting her as she was him? All she wanted to do was ride him. “Ugh,” she said and turned over in her bed. It wasn’t even possible to pretend to read. The ghost of urgent lips tortured her body. A throbbing heat had settled in her centre, wanting him. Could she even pretend she wasn’t wetting her pants, even just lying there, nowhere near him?

  “Damn it,” she said and sat up. Maybe just a little while, just a taste to get this tension out of her system. Pulling a hoodie on, she grabbed the keys to the car and quietly left the house. She certainly wasn’t dressing up for him. It wasn’t like she wanted to go out with him. She was going for a very specific purpose, and it didn’t include clothes.

  Part of her knew she should turn around, but she wasn’t—couldn’t bring herself to. Her legs couldn’t sit still. Her left leg was bobbing up and down with tension as she drove to his house. She knew exactly where he lived, always had.

  His house was huge and she drove down the gated driveway, parking in front of the large house. She wasn’t going to bother knocking, so she opened the door and stepped inside. A cavernous hall led to an open plan house, where she could see all the way through to the other end, where the garden was up on a cliff, right above the ocean.

  “Alistair,” she called. The house was utterly quiet. Was there no one else there? Probably why he’d invited her over.

  “Here,” he said and she looked up the staircase to a landing above.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “Just me.”

  “Big house for just you.”

  “Was getting a bit lonely. Come up.”

  He disappeared into a doorway and Terese took a moment to think about what she was doing. Nope, she still wa
sn’t turning around. She could practically taste him in her mouth and she wanted him so badly. Was this what she’d really feared all along, wanting him so bad, she could taste it? It didn’t matter; she was leaving tomorrow. By miles and miles, she would put him, and this, behind her. Just a holiday fling, wasn’t it?

  The steps were covered in carpet and she made her way upstairs and followed into the doorway he’d gone through. It led to a room, a bed in the centre. This was his room. It had that lived in, but not quite his, feel. Kind of like her.

  He moved to her, straight into a kiss. Endorphins flooded her brain. Maybe she was addicted to him. The taste of him suffused her mind. She couldn’t stop kissing him. Gently, he pulled the zipper of her hoodie down, the material giving way and his hand cupped her breast. It felt so good. Pulling the shoulder of her tank top down, he took the tip of her breast in his mouth, his tongue kneading it.

  The heat in her flared to a roaring fire. Her knickers were soaked and she pressed her hips to him. How the hell had she gotten here, going to pieces for him? Well, she’d always had a thing for him, hadn’t she? Reaching into his pants she grabbed his hard length. She was so beyond foreplay. It was just torture now. “Please, Alistair,” she said. His name felt like honey on her lips.

  Straightening, he looked down at her. His cheeks were flushed and his lips swollen. Could he possibly look more sexy? He pulled her tank top over her head. Now all she had were the small, soft shorts.

  “Eager for me?” he asked, running his fingers along the elastic band. He was teasing her, and she wasn’t sure if there was the merest hint of derision in his voice, or was she imagining that? Did she care? Not really. As long as he didn’t pike out on her now. “I might not let you rush this time.” He backed away and sat down on the bed, waiting for her. There was still that arrogance about him, but she wasn’t entirely sure whether she loved it more than hated it.