Stop it, Ally.
It wasn’t helpful to entertain those kinds of thoughts. Too much power to send me spiralling. Besides, I was the Divorced (Fucking) Diva, a woman content in her singlehood –ecstaticin it. And I was always telling my followers that an ex was an ex for a reason – formultiplereasons – and going back was going backwards. This was one of those times I needed to heed my own advice.
I typed a reply:
If it’s so important, just email me. I’m not meeting you at the boat.
I read it over.Hmm – a little curt. Even if I was justified – Tommy had essentially sent me a directive – I couldn’t shake Mum’s voice in my head:Manners cost nothing, Ally.
‘Okay, Mum.’
I revised it to:
Can’t you just email me? I’d rather not meet you at the boat.
Before I could second-guess myself further, I sent it, then slammed my laptop shut and went to get ready. I was meeting Niki and Minh at the bar before dinner – more campaign photos – and I only had half an hour.
I chose a silk jumpsuit in cobalt – a nod to the striking blue accents dotted around the resort – and strappy silver wedges. I’d been kissed by the sun that day, so kept my makeup light – a touch of shimmer across my eyelids, mascara, and lip gloss – then adorned myself with dangling silver earrings and a handful of silver bangles. I didnotwear the platinum and diamond bangle Julian had given me, but slipped it into my clutch, intending to return it at dinner.
Before leaving my villa, I checked my appearance in the full-length mirror, giving myself a satisfied nod. I was rocking the Divorced Diva look and in the back of my mind, I knew I needed it – part of the armour. With two ex-husbands on the loose – one wooing me with expensive jewellery and the other asking for clandestine meetings – I needed all the emotional protection the Diva brings.
As I walked down the hill towards the bar, the setting sun cast a pinkish hue over the building below, turning its whitewashed walls apricot. I paused for a moment, taking in the incredible view. The sky was streaked in pinks and blues, a low band of clouds lit from beneath like it was on fire.
I continued on my way, the pathways bisecting lush gardens brimming with young olive trees, aromatic herbs, and bursts of bougainvillea and oleander. I passed several villas, their doors and windows obscured by strategic landscaping, affording the level of privacy Julian’s guests would expect – and that I’d already taken advantage of. The air was clean and fragrant, and I inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with top notes of jasmine and lemon and a base note of brine.
Well done, Jules. Even the air quality is top notch.
Soft yet lively music greeted me when I arrived at the bar, a long flag-stoned terrace bordered by the infinity pool I’d seen from the air, floating candles scattered across the surface. Overhead lanterns, suspended from beams, gave off ambient light, and overhanging branches of an olive tree were strung with fairy lights. At the far end of the bar were low-slung sofas and armchairs with plump linen cushions, and closer sat four high tables with wooden stools. Every seat looked across the pool to the view of the coastline and in the distance, the island of Naxos, just visible beneath the setting sun.
Niki was sitting at the bar, angled towards the entrance. She waved as soon as she saw me and I walked over and took the stool next to hers, setting my clutch on the polished concrete bar.
‘You look great,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ I replied with a bright smile. ‘Part of the job.’
‘Right, good point.’
‘What are you having?’ I asked, eyeing her drink.
‘It’s the signature cocktail – the Aetherian Glow. I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered one for you. For the pics.’
‘Sounds good to me. What’s in it?’
‘Gin, Mastiha, a Greek liqueur, thyme syrup, lemon juice, and sparkling Assyrtiko,’ said the bartender, placing a coupe garnished with a sprig of thyme in front of me.
He was dark-haired like Christos and just as handsome, only a little older, maybe late thirties.
I sniffed my glass. ‘Well, it smells delish.’
‘Enjoy,’ he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. I may have sworn off entanglements with the locals, but it didn’t hurt to look.
‘Yamas,’ said Niki, dragging my attention from the dishy bartender.
I raised my glass to meet hers. ‘Yamas.’ We sipped our cocktails. ‘Oh wow,’ I said, my eyes wide.
She chuckled. ‘It’s yummy, but potent.’
‘Mmm,’ I murmured. I knew a few men like that.
