“You’re in deep shit, aren’t you?”
“No fucking kidding.” He clicked his neck. “We’ll just have to find another way.”
“We’ll?” I said as he started to head off.
His laugh was dry. “You don’t think it’s just me involved in this, do you?”
He didn’t give me chance to respond.
Marcus wasthe only cloud in a day that otherwise was Ibiza-perfect. I spent too long thinking about what he’d said about the trouble he was in and worrying about the ramifications for Livi, and for us. The media would jump on any opportunity to have a week’s worth of stories about some scandal involving Livi or Lala. They were less interested in me, as my profile had been almost non-existent for the last couple of years. And I couldn’t help the niggle I had that Marcus and Tommy knew each other, especially after what Lala had said about Tommy’s family.
Mid-afternoon brought guests back to Safir, ready to head down the beach for a party to end the weekend. Someone – not Livi, for a change - had organised a tour of one of the vineyards which had occupied some of Livi’s friends. Monty had chartered another yacht to tour round the island again, for a ‘chilled session’, which took care of the people who were here because they knew Lala.
This would be the quietest gathering. Most people were moving on tomorrow, heading back to England or elsewhere around the Med, so tonight wouldn’t have the same intensity as Friday or Saturday, and it was also on the beach. Rustic. And far more public, although it was a private beach that Livi had hired, and security was at its highest tonight.
The dress code was casual, which meant I didn’t need to think too hard about what to wear. A white bikini and teal kaftan, beach curls in my hair and a glass of champagne, and I was done.
Lala was hanging around downstairs, looking sun kissed and vibrant. She was with a few other girls we knew, some had been here for the weekend already, a couple looked new. Two looked slightly stoned, which wouldn’t have been a surprise.
The beach was a ten-minute drive from Safir, the car full of chatter and gossip on the way there. I half listened, managing to make enough conversation that Lala didn’t think I was pre-occupied by Tommy or anyone else.
Tomorrow I’d talk to her about Marcus. Then I’d tell Livi, and she could find out what had been going on. Tomorrow was also the day when my half siblings arrived for the few weeks, and we’d be dealing with a precocious teenager girl and a boisterous boy. Safir would quieten down, and for a few weeks at least, we’d be able to be some sort of family.
Festoon lighting had been hung around from tree to tree at the beach. A makeshift dance area erected, deckchairs and loungers dotted around and to one side was a beach bar.
Còctels.
Tommy was already there, some of the bar staff I knew from his bar in Santa Gertrudis there too. There was a crowd around them, a Hollywood actor I hadn’t seen until tonight and the singer he was dating (only the media hadn’t picked up on it yet) included.
“I think this is going to be my favourite night.” Lala mused from next to me, her glass of water half full as always. “Sundays are always perfect.”
“Especially when your Monday doesn’t have work.”
“Truth.”
She laughed and left, distracted by Monty and one of his new friends, leaving me watching the growing crowd, my mother somewhere in the middle of it all, as had always been the case.
When I’d look back, in months to come, that night was probably when it all changed. Something switched that evening by the sea; there was a word uttered in someone’s ear that changed how the summer should’ve gone.
But that night was one I looked at as a moment of bliss on an island that had been my sanctuary.
If only sanctuaries could stay safe.
Tommy foundme before I found him. I was talking to two girls I’d gone to school with, both of whom were daughters of people who had titles and land. They did something now with event firms, organising parties, or as Livi said, hoping to capture a prince.
I’d never wanted to capture a prince or any other man. I’d spent half a decade watching our friends act like modern versions of a Jane Austen character, attending parties and clubs where they knew single men – or almost single men – with money would be.
I wanted something different than what Livi had, or had since things ended with Gav. Something that meant more than just good PR or convenience.
I felt the weight of Tommy’s hand on my shoulder, caught the scent of his cologne, one that had been on my sheets when I’d laid down on them before showering earlier.
It was a scent that made my heart start to race and my body react, already trained.
“I brought you a drink.” He handed me a cocktail, one I knew by now would have a slight tweak to it, as if he was still trying to perfect the recipe.
I turned, looking away from Amara and Sophia. I knew their eyebrows were as raised as they could be, given the Botox.
“Thank you.”
