William slapped his hand down hard on the desk. ‘Read my lips. I do not want them here. And even if I did agree, and we got everyone here who has made my life hell—’
Justin put his face in his hands, screeching, ‘No! No! You’ve got it wrong. You still don’t understand. Let me give you an example.’ He sat back again, talking deliberately as though addressing a simpleton. ‘Your ex-wife is at the hairdresser’s. She picks up a copy of Hello! magazine. The page falls open at the headline that has grabbed everyone’s attention: “Tycoon’s Island Paradise Affordable Only By Mega-Rich.” She sees the pictures of the beaches, the rooms, the pool. Then she sees the words: “Exclusive — only multi-millionaires, pop mega-stars, the top fifty wealthiest people on the planet will ever be given the opportunity to see this playground for the world’s élite.”’ William couldn’t help but smile as Justin pressed on. ‘The pictures and the words will stay in her mind, haunting her, tempting her. What wouldn’t she give to be a fly on the wall, just to see the place, see you? Until one day, opening her post...’ Justin mimed a bored woman opening an envelope, then feigned surprise and delight ‘...what should she find but an invitation. A free invitation to taste for herself the delights of this paradise on earth.’
‘Sorry. Don’t buy it.’ William shrugged. ‘If she knows it’s my place, she’d never accept, even if it was free. Besides, I have no desire to have either of my ex-wives set foot on the island.’
‘Fine, cross them off your list.’
‘I already have. I’ve crossed them all off. We’re not doing it.’ With that, William stormed out of the room.
William ate alone at lunch, Justin having taken the boat to pick up some stuff from Tortola. He tucked into a lobster salad followed by a sorbet, and sipped a light sparkling rosé from a small vineyard in California. Afterwards he could hardly keep his eyes open, and decided to take a rest.
Ruby was waiting in his suite. A massage-table covered with white towels was positioned in the centre of the room, an array of oils and lotions laid out on the table. William just wanted to crash out, but Ruby assured him he would sleep even better after a massage. After a quick shower he lay face down on the table. The oils were cool against his hot skin, and Ruby’s touch gentle and soothing. First she massaged him, then applied an astringent lotion to remove the residue of oil from his back. She removed the small towel from his waist, and continued to massage him, gently easing the tension from his muscles. Then she rolled him over, and started to masturbate him. When he came she wiped away his semen and continued the massage. William drifted into a deep sleep, unaware of the slices of iced cucumber laid on his eyelids, while Ruby performed a delicate cleansing facial.
At eight Dahlia, the housekeeper, delivered a message that Justin was held up and would not be returning till the following morning. William felt cross. He wanted company that evening, conversation, perhaps even a game of backgammon. He didn’t feel like eating alone again. He looked at the housekeeper. ‘Dahlia, will you join me?’ he asked bluntly.
‘I would be delighted,’ she said courteously, and took his order for dinner.
William looked at Dahlia and wished he’d changed into a suit. Justin referred to her as Mrs Danvers whenever they discussed her. She was about thirty and exceptionally tall with a taut, muscular figure and waist-length hair combed back from her face and tied in a tight braid. ‘There’s nothing in the mansion that Mrs Danvers doesn’t monitor,’ Justin had told him. ‘She rules with a rod of iron.’
William couldn’t see it. She stood before him in an elegant dark turquoise dress, slit to her thigh, which reminded him of the one Sylvina had worn the night he had met her in France.
They ate together by candlelight. It was a sumptuous dinner, and they conversed easily, discussing wines, restaurants and favourite dishes. William told her about his planned weight-loss and she promised to arrange a low-calorie eating-plan so delicious he would never know it was a diet. William said he liked the idea of her controlling his food intake, and that was when the doubles-entendres started. He enjoyed Dahlia’s titillating questions about how he liked to be controlled, and when she asked if he was too strong-minded ever to release himself into another’s hands, he chuckled and said that he’d never had the opportunity to find out. Dahlia leaned across the table, drew his face towards hers and kissed his lips. She released him and sat back. ‘You have the opportunity now, sir.’
Justin was eating a large slice of watermelon, his feet on the desk in William’s study, watching the security monitors. He couldn’t help but shake his head in admiration. Dahlia was brilliant. He flicked on a second monitor, which showed William being led up the stairs like a puppy by her. He flicked on a third monitor, which showed William’s empty suite, then Dahlia and William entering.
Justin reached for the phone and dialled an internal number. ‘Ruby,’ he said quietly. ‘Wake up, Ruby, and get ready. She’s cracked it.’ He giggled down the line. ‘And even before coffee was served.’
‘Okay,’ came the soft reply, and the phone went dead.
In her small but immaculate room in the north servants’ wing, Ruby selected oils, masks, handcuffs, a leather-thonged whip and various other items she knew Dahlia sometimes used. She took her time, humming tunelessly as she placed them in a wide basket. She was still dressed in her white masseuse’s overall and white sneakers, naked underneath.
Meanwhile Justin slotted a tape into the video-recorder and clicked it on. He waited until he was sure the machine was recording then returned to the security monitor where Dahlia sat astride William’s naked body, his face blindfolded with iced cloths.
Now Ruby entered the room, unheard and unseen by William. Justin checked the headphones to ensure that the microphone was picking up the sound. William might have forgotten the initial reason for the island’s redevelopment, but Justin hadn’t. He had worked towards it with relish and the length of time taken just made this moment even sweeter. Surely William wouldn’t say no to the plan after he’d seen the video of this! When the show was over, Justin would have earned enough money never to have to work again. He and Laura would live the life they had dreamed of. He had always believed that everything he did was for his beloved Laura. Just thinking of her, saying her name, made his body prickle. He was missing her, and couldn’t wait to see her again and tell her that the game was moving into action. All they needed were the players. They would arrive and be treated like royalty, unaware that cameras were filming every second of their intimate moments. Justin had arranged for these intimacies to go well beyond the boundaries of flirtation: the guests would be seduced by the luxurious surroundings, and drawn into a false sense of security, just like William.
The staff were not ordinary domestics, far from it. They were giving William a taste of their real calling in life and they had no limits. The victims would happily pay a fortune to keep out of the press. It would, Justin mused to himself, be a lucrative blackmail weapon. William has to agree. There were endless possibilities, and soon Laura would become a major player.
Justin closed his eyes and remembered Laura standing up on the high rocks near their villa in the South of France. She had been holding what appeared to be a perfectly almond-shaped piece of green glass. She had laughed softly, that husky, whispering laugh. He had never heard such a sound on anyone else’s lips, and as always it touched him. He could see her in his mind as clearly as if she was standing next to him. He remembered the way she held up the glass to the light, transparent, delicate and frighteningly fragile.