“I hope your staff are all well,” Dominic said, not really able to think of something else to say. “And your sons, of course.”
“Everyone is fine,” she said with a smile. Her smiles tended to light up her face. As tentative and as careful as she was, she was a force to be reckoned with when she had to be. It was probably what interested him in her. When it came down to it, she refused to back down.
“Good. Glad to hear it.” And now it got awkward and Dominic hated it. He didn’t do awkward, but with Cheryl he couldn’t help it. “I should greet the guests.”
“God, what an awful woman,” Bianca said as they walked out of earshot. “Can’t you institute a dress code in your tenancy agreement?”
Cheryl’s clothes might not meet with Bianca’s standards, but it was a stretch to say she looked awful. He thought she looked cute, maybe even a little kitsch. There was always something dreamy about Cheryl’s appearance, like she was trying on ideas and personas at times. Tonight, she seemed to be playing with her image, while normally she presented herself in her version of a business woman.
Chapter 20
Roan was a little nervous, Cheyenne noticed. He always was when faced with a new situation, but he settled fairly quickly once he felt he had his bearings. Tonight, he looked good in his dark suit. There was a rough edge beneath that the polish of the suit could not entirely cover. It was what gave him that star quality and made him so very attractive.
All eyes turned to them as they walked into Dominic’s house. Waiters were standing by, handing champagne to the people arriving.
This was an important night, the first major Marbella society event and these people had all turned on her in the past. Now she was back, again victorious. How tonight went was very important; it would indicate where she currently stood, and also highlight where she needed to get to.
Roan on her arm proved to everyone that she had something they didn’t. She’d always had, but they’d refused to see it. Pressing her down now would be hard because Roan was irrepressible. It would be a move that backfired because Roan and his star power trumped them all.
Cheyenne smiled knowing they cut a very elegant line the two of them. The first people she saw were Bridget Gulliver and Sonia Gruer, a couple of the true bitches of Marbella. Their eyes lingered. Apparently, Roan’s presence here wasn’t a surprise. They were a couple gossiped about, it seemed.
“This is a beautiful house,” Roan said.
“Let me introduce you to the host.” Searching the garden, she spotted Dominic and led them over. It would be interesting seeing them meet, both at the very top of their industries and carried that quality that was so hard to define in men. “Dominic, we wished to thank you for inviting us to your party. It is an absolute honour.”
“Of course,” he said. With his dark features, he was still a devastatingly handsome man—not the overt way that Roan was, a face that smouldered with emotion on camera. Dominic was more the strong silent type—very British. Dominic, like Roan, never needed to exert himself into a conversation, the people naturally tended to settle their attention on them. Dominic extended his hand and introduced himself.
“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Roan said in his rounder American accent.
“What brings you to Spain?” Dominic asked.
Neither of them seemed aware that all attention was discreetly on them.
“I have a need to disengage for a while,” Roan admitted. Americans never hid such things; just let it all hang out, as they said. They felt no shame about their needs, while the British sometimes felt mortified to admit they weren’t the perfectly isolated islands they pretended to be.
“I understand,” Dominic said. “I have myself been trying to create a bit more balance.”
Cheyenne hadn’t known this about him. She would have played everything so differently if she’d known. Things were blown with Dominic, she knew, which was a shame, because she actually really liked him. He was so very opposite to her. A bit staid.
“How is it working?” Dominic asked.
“I haven’t got a fucking idea what I’m doing,” Roan admitted and Dominic chuckled. They had found common ground, apparently.
The conversation turned to golf and Cheyenne tuned out. Maybe it was time to let Roan be a lone operator for a moment. It would only increase his confidence. “I might check the nibbles,” Cheyenne broke in and drifted away. She actually was hungry, having skipped dinner. Dominic was bound to have some caviar around somewhere and it had been a while. Americans didn’t understand caviar.
There was a consistent murmur across the garden, music playing discreetly. Not enough to disturb the conversation. These things were all about the conversation.
A table was laid out with a spread of every kind of luscious finger food imaginable and predictably there where blinis with caviar, little sprigs of chives cut on top. Cheyenne savoured the salty taste. Her time with Alexi had given her a taste for caviar. Now she found she craved it, but she only allowed herself two.
“Cheyenne,” a woman said and Cheyenne turned to see Marjerie St. Johns, one of the doyennes of Marbella. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you around.”
“I have been too busy to spend any time here of late.”
“I noted the handsome man you came with. Are things serious?”
In her mind, Cheyenne tried to work out this woman’s game. She was an important woman, but of the set that was a little older. What was she after, Cheyenne wondered. “Well, it is early days, I suppose, but we’re very much in love.”
“That’s sweet. American, I take it. Are you staying long?”
“Don’t really know. We’re trying not to make any plans just at the moment.”
The woman considered her. There was a hardness in her eyes, showing she disapproved of Cheyenne on some level, but that didn’t actually bother Cheyenne. What was more interesting was the power this woman had. But her versus Roan; she would lose out. “Sometimes the best things happen when we simply let life take us where it wants to.”
Cheyenne couldn’t agree less, but she wasn’t about to say so. “Yes, you do meet the most interesting people,” Cheyenne said, letting her eyes travel back to Roan. He was still in conversation with Dominic and looked comfortable. She should probably go back and join him fairly soon. “I should perhaps get back. Lovely to see you again.” It was a lie, but one had to be polite to these cows.
For all his confidence and ability to portray it, Roan did have some real insecurities. Cheyenne worked really hard to not consider it pathetic. Well, being so famous, he did have to watch for other people’s intentions. Then again, that was true here for everyone, but it would be more extreme for him.
Walking back, Cheyenne also saw Olivia Fessen-Wren and Bettany Mullbury, which had been quite awful to her, pretending to be her friends then turning their backs on her. They both watched her and Cheyenne didn’t quite know if she should acknowledge them or not. It was never worth looking pathetic, or as if they could treat her like that and all would be forgiven. Not without some major grovelling. She chose to ignore them. There had always been a jealous undertone to their ‘friendship’ and Cheyenne had already had one major victory that night. Marjerie St. John trumped those bitches by a long shot.
Chapter 21
Roan was starting to relax at this party. No one had rushed him for autographs or selfies or generally stood around and gawped at him. He was a partygoer like everyone else. Granted, he hadn’t dressed quite as nicely as some, but he didn’t stick out as a mountain man either. Things were chill.
Cheyenne was off talking to some people he didn’t know. She was beaming in this company. Something had gone very well for her. The thing with Cheyenne was that you couldn’t really trust anything that came out of her mouth—which wasn’t all that remarkable a trait in LA—but you could trust her body language. In other words, she wasn’t a consummate liar; she betrayed her emotions readily in her stance. Right now, she was happy. This night, for wha
tever objective she had for it, had gone well.
Taking his time, with a drink in his hand, he roamed over to where the food was laid out. It was a nice party. No expense had been spared. The entertainment was first class—gorgeous girls wearing very little. How badly he’d been burned by girls like that in the past, every part of the exploit detailed on the internet, including a detailed description of his cock and how he liked to fuck. He’d learnt his lesson with that one. Luscious girls were off limit, and he had to be very careful about spending his time with people. Which, and he wasn’t proud to say it, made pros so much easier to deal with.
Then Cheyenne had come along and she’d been pure arrogance, adrenalin and attitude. It was impossible not to notice Cheyenne, and she hadn’t been out to treat him like a lucky break. Still, she was something, and he hadn’t entirely figured out what. He fit into her plans somehow and this place was part of it. What the future held for them, he didn’t know, but she fucked like she was on fire, and a man had to appreciate that, especially if she wasn’t in for making her name on it.
All manner of delicacies were weighing down the food table. This was no slapped together catering food, these pieces were delicate, looking like ingredients he’d never seen before. He tried a Chinese spoon full of something undecipherable and it was utterly divine.
“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” a woman said and Roan felt dread creep up his spine. What was he to be accosted with now and were they going to make an embarrassing scene resulting in him having to leave?
Turning, he saw a woman holding out her hand. She was beautiful, without a doubt. Mid-thirties, maybe, with light brown hair and expertly done make up, a body as fit and toned as it could be. “It is such a pleasure to have new people in our midst. I’m Connie Marchstance.” She held out her hand and Roan shook it. “I understand you are making this your home for a while. Marbella has a tendency to get into your blood.”
“So I hear,” he said, unsure of this woman and her intentions, but she seemed amiable enough.
Connie tilted her head to one side as if considering him. “If you need anyone to show you around, I would be happy to be your guide.”
“Cheyenne, my girlfriend, knows the area well.”
The woman shrugged. “Of course, we all love Cheyenne. She’d been skirting around here with different men for ages. Did you know she is officially a baroness?”
He had heard when she’d first been introduced at a party up in the Hollywood hills. “I do know. She’s not one for using titles, though.”
Connie looked amused and stepped a little closer. “They are common on this side of the pond. My, you have the most beautiful eyes, but I’m sure people have told you that a hundred times. It is very exciting to have you here. Do you play tennis? There is a pairs tournament at the Athletic Club for those fit enough. It tends to beckon to us more active types around here and I doubt you’ll have any problems.” Her eyes roamed down him appreciatively. “It’s a marvellous way to keep fit, of course. One has to stay active. I actually have a court at my house. You should come around for a practice match. Any time.” She ran the tips of her fingers lightly up his arm. “Can’t promise I’ll go easy on you, though. I do tend to like a hard smash.” With a smile, she gave him a meaningful look, and Roan knew full well there were some strings that came with that tennis match.
“Won’t your husband mind, Mrs. Marchstance?” Roan said, feeling a little fractious. Women like her were always around, blatant in their flirting. For some reason, they always thought they were unique.
A look of surprise crossed her brow. “Oh him? I doubt he’d mind if he cared to notice. Not much for tennis.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Roan said, not entirely sure how he wanted to take this proposition. A part of him was annoyed and disturbed, but mostly he felt too jaded to really be shocked. Another part of him was always a little tempted by simple sex and he wondered about himself as he seemed to want to react every which way. “I appreciate the offer, but I am sufficiently challenged at the moment in the ‘tennis’ department.” If fact, Cheyenne was near insatiable.
“Such a shame,” Connie said, her eyes travelling down his body as she stepped away. It wasn’t the first time he’d been objectified, wanted for sex and nothing else. It had actually been very exciting in the beginning, but it got old.
As he turned around there was another woman—equally beautiful. “I hoped I’d have a chance to introduce myself, my name is Prue Blackwater,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “I hope everyone is making you feel very welcome here. We tend to be a cordial bunch.”
“Absolutely,” Roan said, again feeling himself being objectified in this woman’s eyes.
“Are you a sailor?”
Was this another euphemism, Roan wondered. “Can’t say I have any experience. I am very much from a landlocked county where I’m from.”
“Can’t live on the coast and not take advantage of the wonderful Mediterranean. I’d be happy to show you the ropes. I have a lovely little boat that can be easily managed by just a couple of people.”
These women were descending like vultures. Did the fact that he had a girlfriend mean nothing around here?
“Nothing quite like the sea breeze in your hair,” she continued.
“I’ll keep that in mind. Please excuse me,” he said and stepped away. It seemed one of the downsides with not being revered as inaccessible was that the offers were flowing in. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a guy and hence flattered by women clamouring for him. Shit like that was in his genes, although these women seemed exclusively interested in what was in his jeans.
Looking around, he saw a darker spot on the other side of the pool where a cabana covered a group of chairs. Plate in hand, he made his way over there, wanting a break from the marauding women. It seemed he was at risk when out in the open by himself.
Making his way over, he saw a woman sitting in one of the chairs and paused for a moment. God, not another one. Oh, screw it, he wasn’t going to try to find somewhere else. “Mind if I join you?”
“Be my guest,” she said as he sat down. He hadn’t actually waited for her answer, which was perhaps a bit rude.
She sat with her arm on an armrest, leaning her head on it, paying him little attention. “And what draws you into this dark corner?” he asked.
“I suppose I just wanted a moment to myself.”
“And now I have come to disturb you.” Morosely, because she seemed unwilling to talk, he pushed the issue.
She smiled out of politeness. “I’m not much for parties,” she admitted. A pretty face with darkened eyes and dark lipstick. “I seem to have lost the knack for it.” She smiled. “Is it too early to leave, do you think?” she laughed apologetically. By the look of her, she looked like a party girl, but then she was hiding in the darkest corner of the party. Something about her reminded him of a girl he used to know.
“Probably.” They had barely cracked the first bottle of champagne. Perhaps she was socially anxious. “Why did you come if you don’t like parties?”
“They kind of put me on the spot and it was hard to say no. Dominic is actually my landlord,” she said.
“In that case, there probably isn’t a time too soon to leave.”
She laughed, making a tinkling, sweet loud. “It sounds simple, but as with most things, it’s complicated.”
“What isn’t these day? Roan,” he said, stretching his arm out across the table. “Actor.”
“Cheryl,” she said. “Hairstylist and reluctant partygoer. A good portion of the women here are my clients.”
“Actually, none of these people mean anything to me,” he admitted, and felt a little guilty saying it because he should probably explicitly exclude Cheyenne from that statement. “The vast majority I haven’t met before tonight.”
“Things get complicated here in Marbella,” she said. “Relationships are never straightforward.”
“As with your landlord?”<
br />
Cheryl sighed. “Probably even too complicated to say it’s complicated. In truth, I’m quite uncomfortable being here.”
“Hence the hiding in dark corners.”
“What’s your excuse?”
“The gorgeous women of Marbella won’t stop hitting on me.”
She laughed again. “I take it that’s very distressing for you.”
“Well, not normally, but I’m trying to eat.”
She smiled and it lit up her face. The feeling that she reminded him of someone didn’t go away. There was something very comforting and familiar about it, a feeling he recognised and knew he hadn’t experienced in quite some while. It came to him: home town girls. Too much makeup, not always put together and genuine smiles. Funny he should make that association, particularly as he’d moved along to much more sophisticated types of women.
Chapter 22
Roan Hancock looked so very human as he sat forward in his chair and ate. The muscles in his handsome jaw worked as he chewed. He had the perfect amount of stubble, the perfect chiselled jaw. Cheryl wasn’t sure she had seen a man as captivating as him before. But then she was also wary of him, this strange creature who had invaded her little sanctuary.
What she could say was that he was very personable and it had taken a short amount of time before she’d switched over from starstruck to speaking to a real person, just one who happened to be ridiculously handsome.
Handsome had its own perils. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. Her husband’s handsome face had not saved him from being a horror show of a husband. As if his handsomeness automatically afforded him liberties he shouldn’t have. It had made her wary of all handsome faces. The world fell at the feet of a man like that. Roan had even admitted it; he came in here to escape the women hitting on him, and it certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed by the gorgeous creature he’d walked in here with. What an absolutely stunning couple, she had noted as they had appeared.
Marbella Twist Page 8
