Wedding Night (43 page)

“Now that you put it like that …,” allows Lorcan.

“Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m saving my sister. Richard, are you in?”

“In?” He shakes his head adamantly. “I’m not in anything.
Lottie’s leading her own life. She doesn’t want me. She made that perfectly plain.”

“But her marriage with Ben is on the rocks!” I cry in frustration. “Don’t you see?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” says Richard. “And, anyway, what are you expecting me to do, pick up the pieces? Lottie chose Ben, and that’s something I have to live with.” He hoists his bag on his shoulder. “You can do what you like, but I’m going my own way. I’m finding a sunset and I’m watching it and I’m going to try to find some inner peace.”

I stare at him in disbelief.
Now
he goes all Dalai Lama on me?

“What about you?” I turn to Lorcan, who lifts his hands and shakes his head too.

“Not my affair. I’m strictly here for business reasons. Once the restructuring papers are signed, I’m leaving Ben alone.”

“So you’re both bailing out on me?” I glare at the two men. “Fine.
Fine
. I’ll save the day without you.” I extend a hand. “Come on, Noah. We’re going to Ikonos after all.”

“OK. Have they done it?” he adds chattily as he gathers up all the Bulgarian leaflets he’s collected.

“Done what?” I’m momentarily stunned.

“Lottie and Ben. Have they put the sausage in the bun?”

“Muffin,” amends Richard.

“Cupcake,” corrects Lorcan.

“Shut up, both of you!” I say frantically. I feel as though I’m losing control of everything. Do I have to have the facts-of-life conversation with my seven-year-old right now, in Sofia airport?

Also, more pertinent: it’s a good question.
Have
they done it?

“I don’t know,” I say at last, and put an arm round Noah. “We don’t know, darling. Nobody knows.”

“Actually, I know.” Lorcan looks up from his BlackBerry. “Just got a new text from Ben.” His face twists a little. “Apparently the wedding night is a go. They’re heading back to the hotel in order to …” He glances at Noah. “Put it this way. The sausage is heading toward the cupcake.”

“Nooooooooo!” My agonized cry rises to the roof of the building, and a few nearby passengers turn to stare. “But she has no idea what a treacherous cheating rat he is!” I look agitatedly from face to face. “We have to stop them!”

“Fliss, calm down,” says Lorcan.

“
Stop
them?” Richard looks shocked.

“She’s been sabotaging their entire honeymoon,” explains Lorcan succinctly. “Didn’t you wonder why they were so unlucky?”

“Jesus Christ, Fliss.” Richard looks shocked.

“We need to board,” says Noah, tugging at my sleeve, but all three of us ignore him. Determination is coursing through my veins like molten steel. A crusader could not be any more crusading than I am right now.

“That bastard is
not
going to break my sister’s heart.” I’m speed-dialing Nico. “Richard, give me some more pointers. You have the inside track; you can help. What are Lottie’s particular turnoffs?”

“We need to board,” says Noah again, and all three of us ignore him again.

“I’m not telling you her turnoffs!” Richard sounds scandalized. “That’s private information!”

“She’s my
sister
—” I break off as Nico answers.

“Hello?” he says warily. “Fliss?”

“Nico!” I exclaim. “Thank God you’re there! We need to take things up a level. Repeat, up a level.”

“Fliss!” Nico sounds agitated. “I cannot continue with our arrangement! The staff, they are wondering what I am up to. We are arousing suspicion!”

“You have to,” I say firmly. “They’re heading back to the hotel, and I’ll be there soon. Stop them from getting into bed meanwhile. Wrestle Ben to the ground if you have to. Whatever it takes!”

“Fliss—”

“We need to board, Mummy—”

“Whatever it takes, Nico! Whatever it takes!”

24
LOTTIE

I can hardly believe it’s true. Our hotel suite is empty. No staff milling around. No butlers. No harps. As I look around the sleek, silent furniture, I can feel a buzz of anticipation in the air. It’s as though the rooms are waiting for us to fill them with noise and heat and gasps and lovely, lovely sex.

We arrived back at the hotel and came straight up here. Neither of us said a word. I’m blocking everything else out right now. All thoughts about our marriage. All thoughts about Richard. All thoughts about Sarah. My shame, my sadness, my humiliation—I’m blocking it all out. The only thing I’m focusing on is that insistent pulse inside me I’ve been feeling ever since I clapped eyes on Ben in that restaurant. I want him. He wants me. We deserve this.

As he comes toward me, his eyes are darkening and I can tell he feels like I do: where to start? We have the whole experience ahead of us, like a delicious box of chocolates.

“Did you put out DO NOT DISTURB?” I murmur as his lips find my neck.

“Of course.”

“And lock the door?”

“Am I stupid?”

“So this is really happening.” My hands run down his back and even lower, cupping his two taut buttocks, and I fleetingly wish mine were that firm. “Mmmm.”

“Mmmm.” He eases out of my grip and peels off his shirt. God, I fancy this man. And I know he’s a flake; I know he’ll be on to Sarah, or even some other girl, tomorrow. But for now—glorious now—he’s all mine.

He’s slowly unbuttoning my shirt. Thank God I’m wearing an expensive, froufrou bra. Richard never took any notice of my underwear, just used to peel it off in a great hurry. Then I told him I was hurt by this and he went to the other extreme, always murmuring “Great bra” or “Sexy pants.” Dear Richard.

No. Stop, Lottie. No Richard thoughts. They’re banned.

Ben is doing delicious things inside my ear with his tongue, and I moan urgently, reaching for his belt, unbuttoning his jeans. I thought I wanted this to be long and drawn out and epic, the stuff of memories. But now that it’s happening, I realize I don’t care about it being long and drawn out. I want him now. Now.
Now
. Short and epic will suit me fine.

Ben’s panting and I’m panting, and I can feel he’s as desperate as I am, and I have never wanted anyone so much in my whole entire life—

“Madame? A drink?”

What the fuuuck?

We both leap so high, it’s as though we’re Irish dancers doing a
pas de deux
.

I’m half undressed. Ben is half undressed. And Georgios is standing a meter away, holding a silver salver bearing a bottle of wine and several glasses.

“What?” Ben barely seems capable of words. “What is it?”

“A glass of wine? Or iced water?” says Georgios nervously. “Courtesy of the management.”

“Fuck the management!
Fuck the fucking management!
” Ben explodes. “I put on the DO NOT DISTURB sign. Can’t you
read
? Can’t you see what we’re
doing
? Have you heard of the concept of
privacy
?”

Georgios is speechless. He takes a step forward and nervously proffers the silver salver.

“Fine!” Ben seems to reach the end of his tether. “Stay there! Watch!”

“What?”
I stare at him.

“He’s not going to leave us alone. Well, then, he can watch us. We’re consummating our marriage,” he adds over his shoulder to Georgios. “Should be fun.”

He reaches to unhook my bra and I clamp my hands over my breasts. “Ben!”

“Take no notice of the butler,” Ben says fiercely. “Pretend he’s a pillar.”

Is he serious? He expects us to have sex while the butler watches? Isn’t that against the law?

Ben starts nuzzling at my cleavage, and I shoot a glance at Georgios. He’s put one hand over his eyes but is still holding out the salver.

“Champagne?” he says, sounding distraught. “You would prefer champagne?”

“Why don’t you just go?” I say furiously. “Leave us alone!”

“I cannot!” He sounds desperate. “Please, madame. Stop for refreshment at least.”

“Why does this matter to you?” I wrench Ben’s head up from my breast and turn to stare at Georgios. “You’ve been trying to stop us … you know … all honeymoon.”

“Madame!” Another voice hails us, and I whip round incredulously. “Please! Urgent message!”

I can’t cope with this. It’s Hermes. He’s also standing a meter away, holding out some bit of paper. I take it from him and read the words
Urgent Message
.

“What urgent message?” I snap. “I don’t believe you.”

“Come here, Lottie,” snarls Ben, who is clearly beside himself. “Ignore them! We’re doing this. We’re getting it on.” He rips my bra off completely and I scream.

“Ben! Stop!”

“Madame!” shouts Georgios impetuously. “I come to your rescue!” He puts down the salver and grabs Ben in a half nelson, while Hermes throws a glass of iced water over us both.

“We’re not bloody
dogs
!” yells Ben. “Let go of me!”

“I didn’t mean
Stop
, stop!” I say, equally livid. “I meant
Stop, don’t take my bra off in front of the butlers
!”

Ben and I are both panting, but not in a good way. We’re both dripping too, but, again, not in a good way. Georgios releases Ben, who rubs his neck.

“Why are you trying to stop us?” I glare at Georgios. “What’s going on?”

“You’re right.” Ben is suddenly alert. “It can’t be coincidence, all these glitches. Is someone
behind
it?”

I gasp. “Is someone telling you to do this?” My mind instantly flashes to Melissa. Maybe she wants this suite. She’s the kind of person who would try all kinds of dirty tricks. “Have you been deliberately trying to ruin our wedding night all along?” I demand.

“Madame. Sir.” Georgios glances uncertainly at Hermes. The pair of them look like guilty schoolkids.

“Answer us!” says Ben.

“Answer us!” I echo furiously.

“Mr. Parr.” The familiar tones of Nico interrupt the conversation. He glided into the room so smoothly that I didn’t even notice him arriving, but here he is, batting not an eyelid at the fact that I’m topless. He holds out an envelope to Ben. “A message from a Mr. Zhernakov.”

“Zhernakov?” Ben swivels round. “What does he say?” He tears the envelope open and we all wait breathlessly, as though this will be the answer to everything.

“OK, I have to go.” Ben starts looking around. “Where are my shirts?” He addresses Hermes. “Where did you put them?”

“I will find you a shirt, of course, sir. Which color?” Hermes seems relieved to have something to do.

“You’re
going
?” I stare at Ben. “You can’t go!”

“Zhernakov wants to see me asap on the yacht.”

“But we were in the middle of something!” I cry in frustration. “You can’t just bail out!”

Ben ignores me and heads off with Hermes to the dressing area. I stare after him, quivering with rage. How can he leave? We were having sex. At least, we were about to. He’s as bad as these butlers, interrupting all the time.

Speaking of which, where’s Nico?

I spot him in the lobby of the suite and, clutching my shirt ineffectually to my chest, hasten after him. I intend to give him a piece of my mind, but to my surprise, he’s standing in the corner, whispering into his phone.

“They have stopped. I assure you. They are apart.”

I stiffen all over. Does “they” mean Ben and me? Who’s he talking to?
Who the hell is he talking to?
My mind is working frantically. He’s talking to the person behind it all. The person who’s been trying to scupper us. I
know
it’s Melissa.

I studied martial arts at school, and just occasionally it comes in handy. Silently, I creep up behind Nico till my hand is poised, ready for action.

“I am in the vicinity, and I can assure you that no coupling or intercourse of any kind will take place—oof!” Nico gasps as I neatly relieve him of his phone. I clamp it to my ear without saying a word and listen as hard as I can.

“I’m nearly there, Nico. You’re doing a great job. Just keep them apart, whatever it takes.”

A brisk, commanding, thoroughly familiar voice greets my ear. For a moment I think I’m hallucinating. My jaw has dropped. My head is spinning. It can’t be. It
can’t
be.

Nico is trying to grab his phone, but I swing around, eluding him.

“Fliss?” I say, and feel a sudden, white-hot bolt of fury.
“Fliss?”

25
FLISS

Fuck.

Oh fuck.

I feel hot and cold. I didn’t see this coming. I never thought that at this late stage she would find out. We’re on the island. We’re nearly there.
We’re so nearly there
.

We’re standing outside the airport on Ikonos, our luggage assembled in a pile. Lorcan is at the taxi rank, negotiating a fare to the Amba Hotel, and I gesture to him to keep an eye on Noah.

“Hi, Lottie,” I manage, but my voice has stopped working. I swallow several times, trying to regain my cool. What do I say? What can I say?

“It was you.” Her voice is lacerating. “You’ve been trying to stop Ben and me from getting it together, haven’t you? You were behind the butlers and the single beds and the peanut oil. Who else would know about peanut oil but you?”

“I …” I rub my face. “Listen. I … I just—”

“Why would you do that? Why would anyone do that? It’s
my honeymoon!” Her voice rises to a shriek of anguish and fury. “My
honeymoon
! And you
ruined
it!”

“Lottie. Listen.” I gulp. “I thought … I was doing it for the best. You don’t realize—”

“Doing it for the best?” she cries.
“Doing it for the best?”

OK. This is going to be tough to explain in the thirty seconds I have before she screeches again.

“I know you’ll probably never, ever forgive me,” I begin rapidly. “But you were going to try for a honeymoon baby and I was so afraid it would be a mistake, and I know what it’s like on the other side, postdivorce; it’s absolutely miserable, and I couldn’t bear that to happen to you—”