“No.” Her head shake was definite. “I haven’t touched it.”
I relaxed my other fist that had been clenched. “He won’t be in here again. And where you were stood has a camera on it – or it should have. Do you want to know for sure if he roofied you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. But will he have tried the same with anyone else?”
I wasn’t overly bothered about anyone else because they weren’t standing in front of me. She was delicate, like a dragonfly, wings that beat so fast that no one noticed.
“I don’t know. Let me get them to check where he’s been.” I took my phone out again and called the security chief. The conversation was brief and to the point. I might not be responsible over there anymore, but, well, they wished I still was.
“Well?”
“They’ll check. You don’t need to worry about anyone else, just go and have a good evening.” I held my glass up to her again. A dismissal. She was too young and too pretty for me. I liked my women with more curves and more experience, and enough balls to fight back, because I could be a nasty fucker who didn’t do pancakes in the mornings or mornings full stop.
Her nod was slow. Sarcastic. “Gotcha. I’ll get out of your hair. When are you next at Còctels?”
“Tomorrow. And the day after.” No point playing any games.
“I’ll no doubt see you there. It was good today.” Her smile was genuine.
I didn’t smile back. “Where are you off to now?”
“Home. I’m done for the day.”
“What about your sister?”
Jameson laughed. “I’ll let her know. She’ll be here until sunrise.”
I nodded. “Have a good evening. Maybe I’ll see you at Còctels tomorrow.”
I walked away before she could answer. If I’d waited, I’d never have left.
Chapter Five
Jameson
Livi was the queen of redirection.
I brought up Abu Dhabi, Lawrie due to fly there in just a few days, asking her if she was going to join him. Her response had been undecided, mentioning the work she needed to do for the party weekend and a friend coming over from London the following Friday, a conversation that dissolved into society gossip.
I tried again to bring up Lawrie the following day over breakfast, asking her what he was working on currently. I was met with vague answers, which became questions about Stockholm and city breaks, and soon she had me talking away about Budapest, where she’d never been.
Later that day, after a morning walking round the hippie market that had been in Es Caná, we sat down to a late lunch of poached fish and salad with a dressing that felt almost better than an orgasm. It had been that long since I’d experienced an orgasm through someone else’s doing, that a salad dressing could have me close.
“Where’s Lawrie staying in Abu Dhabi?” I studied the pomegranate seeds that were scattered in the salad.
Livi shook her head. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him much this week.”
This was true. Since I’d arrived, I’d seen him twice. He’d spent a night on the Spanish mainland, a late night in his study and then I’d been out with Lara. He’d been polite, as he always was, but there’d been no conversation.
Lawrie had never portrayed himself as a step-father figure. He was Livi’s partner, frequently taken as her husband, although as far as I knew, she and my dad were still married. Mine and Lala’s relationship with him was polite, we had a few things in common, and it didn’t kill us to share the odd meal, but there had never been the expectation that we were a unit. We just happened to have Livi in common. We all loved her, or at least we assumed Lawrie still did.
He didn’t court the media. He had no interest in being a celebrity, and when Livi had opened her home to a glossy magazine, he’d been scarce. Lawrie focused on his business, leaving Livi to get on with her life as she saw fit.
I’d never spent too much time working out the dynamics of their relationship, mainly because it had never affected me or Lala. Livi gave us as much attention as we wanted, was there when we needed, and we’d always felt like her priority, just like we had with Dad.
It was only recently I’d started to question the dynamics between her and Lawrie. What did she get out of them being together? How did he make her happy?
“Are you going with him? You mentioned you were thinking about it?” I sipped my iced tea, the non-Long Island variety. It was easy to get caught on the hedonistic wave that lapped at Ibiza. Alcohol at any time of day was never judged and I was aware that if I didn’t consciously have two or three days a week where I could ‘cleanse’, my liver would be saturated.
