‘A best-selling book? My friends seem to think I can do it! I guess that’s every writer’s dream, though.’ I laugh to hide my embarrassment in case it sounds pretentious. ‘Of course, that’s probably never going to happen, and that’s absolutely fine. I don’t know that I’d even want that level of success. What do I really want though? I suppose to be healthy, live a quiet life and write. Like, can you imagine being in one of those villas we saw and going out onto your balcony with your laptop and just sitting there writing?’
‘That sounds pretty good to me.’
‘Definitely. So, what do you wish for, Elias?’
‘Now that’s a good question. I guess someone to share things with. Someone to take out for dinner. To share interests with and to wake up with every morning. Isn’t that what everyone wants?’
‘Yeah, unless you’re completely introverted and prefer your own company.’
‘Well, I can definitely see that could be appealing for some folk – no arguments over who’s having which side of the bed or pulling the duvet off in the night.’
‘Exactly.’
‘You know, I’d let you have my duvet. Even if I had to shiver all night. You could have it,’ says Elias.
‘Such a gentleman.’
Elias gives me that intense look again, and I realise that I might be ready for a relationship in my life, after all. That’s something I never considered when my trust was shattered after finding out about Michael’s two-year affair. I didn’t think I would trust anyone ever again. But as I look into Elias’s clear blue eyes, I begin to wonder if I could trust this man.
But then I remember how all of this started and how it was based on a lie. What if Elias has other secrets, or skeletons in the cupboard? What if it’s best I have fun on holiday and then end it all when I step on that plane? It certainly might save a lot of heartache down the line. Besides, we live nowhere near each other, and this is just a holiday romance.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tangled in our four-poster bed, we wake up the next morning with smiles on our faces and a reminder of how much we must have drunk from the flush emanating from our cheeks.
‘This bed’s so comfy. I could stay in here all day,’ I say with my head on Elias’s chest.
‘We can if you like. Now that would be a good way to spend your last day,’ says Elias.
I playfully tap his shoulder. ‘You must be joking. Have you seen the breakfast menu here?’
‘Fair point, we need some sustenance.’
I’m happy to see that I was not wrong about the breakfast. A basket full of croissants, pastries and fresh French bread awaits us on the terrace, where the aroma of frangipani from the garden melds with the fragrance of our freshly ground black coffee. Birds fly about in the sunshine above us as a waiter brings a plate of multicoloured fruit to accompany our pastries, with the brightest red strawberries, the bluest blueberries and vibrant kiwi.
‘You do know I’m not going to want to go back to my usual life after this,’ I tell Elias. The thought of returning to my soggy cereal with skimmed milk, looking out of the window into the rain, doesn’t bear thinking about. I wish holidays could last forever.
‘Well, you don’t have to. That can very easily be arranged.’ Elias winks at me and has a naughty grin on his face. I get the feeling that if I would allow it, he’d want to give me the best of everything. I quickly focus my attention on the freshly squeezed orange juice, not knowing how to respond.
‘Yum. Have you tried the juice? It’s gorgeous. And I thought the juice from the supermarket in Monaco was fresh!’
‘It is indeed. Hey, I don’t know about you, but I quite fancy a drive out to Saint-Tropez. It’s a bit of a way, around an hour and a half, but I thought we could spend your last day there, if you’d like that, of course.’
‘Saint-Tropez? I’ve always fancied going there. All that glamour and Brigitte Bardot fame. How fast can you drive? Just kidding, by the way. Please don’t speed on those roads.’
‘I promise I won’t. Saint-Tropez it is, then. Your chauffeur awaits.’
Soraya is not going to believe that I’m on my way to Saint-Tropez, and so I message her after we set off to tell her.
That’s brilliant. So chuffed for you. Best thing you did was stayon.
I can see she is still typing, and another message soon follows.
I don’t know if I should tell you this, but Michael turned up at theworkshop yesterday. Just as I was closing up.
What? I watch the dots as Soraya types.
He’s being a jerk. Was asking if I’d heard from you as you haven’tresponded to him. He said you’re involved with a scammer and he’s veryworried about you.
