William could not keep the smile off his face as he gave orders for his legal team to sue the backside off Geffin’s. They were to keep him informed of every move, even though he would not be staying in London. The new Sir William was like a hurricane, so it was with some relief that his London staff saw him depart.
William and Justin boarded his private jet for Nice. Justin had finished preparing a press-pack for the ‘Billionaire’s Paradise Island Home’ and delivering copies to the most prestigious and influential magazines: Country Life, Tatler, Vogue and Hello! Like conspiratorial teenagers, they sat side by side on the plane, reviewing William’s invitation hit-list.
‘My ex-wife Katherine, and her cousin Cedric. I hate that bastard, he’s always ripped me off. Humphrey Matlock and his dear wife, Angela.’
‘Who are all these people?’ Justin queried.
‘The journalists,’ William said.
‘For God’s sake, you have the organ-grinder, Matlock. You don’t need his monkeys. Cross them off.’
‘You’re sure he and his family will be easy to get over there?’
‘Leave that to me,’ Justin said softly. Then he went to the lavatory. He needed to be alone: he could hardly contain his excitement.
His hand stroked the worn old wallet in the breast pocket of his jacket. It had belonged to his father, the monogram faded now with years of use. It rarely contained folded notes — Justin preferred to stash those in the back pocket of his jeans. It held something more precious than money: a newspaper article, folded over and over, the creases brown with age. He eased it out and opened it. He knew every line, every word by heart, but this was the first time he had read it with a smile on his face.
‘Gotcha!’ he hissed. ‘Humphrey fucking Matlock! Gotcha!’
Chapter eleven
The villa was hidden in darkness, but the car headlights lit the main veranda. Justin jumped out and ran inside, leaving William and the driver to remove the suitcases from the boot. The lights came on in the gardens, throwing the villa into focus, and the driver stood open-mouthed as the magical garden came to life with fountains and shaded lights over the rock pools and flowers. Justin returned to help with the cases.
Suddenly Marta was running towards them. She flung herself at Justin and kissed him frantically, held him at arm’s length then kissed him again.
‘Is she here?’ Justin whispered, and Marta nodded.
After unpacking, William found his way to the dining room. The table was beautifully laid, with candles, bowls of salad, and every conceivable cold cut. He heaped a plate, poured some chilled Chablis and sat down. After a few moments, Justin joined him and helped himself to food and wine.
‘She asleep?’ William asked, his mouth full.
‘Yes.’
‘So I won’t get to meet her tonight then?’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’
Laura did not make an appearance. It was after two in the morning when they both decided to go to bed. ‘You want to see her?’ Justin whispered. ‘Come with me...’
Laura was lying on her side, naked, one arm stretched out, the hand cupped as if begging to be touched. One slender leg crossed over the other, leaving her hip rising like a wing. Her breasts were partly hidden by her other hand, which rested against them almost in an attitude of piety. Her silken blonde hair splayed across the pillow and fell over her shoulder like gossamer. Even in the flickering candlelight, the beauty of her sleeping face was heart-stopping. She had high sweeping cheekbones, fine arched brows and the lashes resting on her cheeks were dark. Her nose was straight, in perfect symmetry with her cheeks, and her wide pink lips were parted. She was almost too beautiful to be real.
‘What do you think?’ whispered Justin.
‘She’s perfect,’ was all William could say.
‘She is the bait, William.’
William went to his suite, changed and slid between the cool cotton sheets. He was aware of a strange sensation of fear in the pit of his stomach. He had no notion of why he felt afraid. He had spent enough time with Justin to think that he knew him... but did he? At some point he fell asleep, so he did not hear the soft moan or the conversation that went on for hours. He didn’t hear a sound from above as brother and sister lay entwined like lovers, their perfect bodies catching the light of the candles: he so bronzed, eyes deep and tortured, she with the paleness of lilies that belied a terrible darkness.
‘Morning,’ William said to Marta, who was setting the breakfast table. She was hardly able to give him a pleasant look, never mind a ‘good morning’ in return. ‘Lovely day,’ he said. He had just received a call from his lawyers that two more toys were being inspected, and the chink-chink of the money it would cost the Baron was music to his ears.
Marta moved closer to him. ‘Get away from this place,’ she said tersely. Her expression said more, but she stopped abruptly when Justin appeared and swept her into his arms.
‘Who is the love of your life?’ Justin asked, kissing her cheeks.
‘You both are,’ she said.
William thought she seemed near to tears as she hurried out of the room, but he put it to the back of his mind. He beamed at Justin. ‘Just spoken to my legal boffins, I’m going to squeeze Baron von Garten’s balls so tightly. It’s gonna cost him millions.’
‘You ever think of anything else but accruing dosh, old man?’
‘I do now. The dosh, as you call it, has nothing to do with my good humour. It’s getting that stuck-up son-of-a-bitch.’
‘That’s good,’ Justin said, and now he smiled. ‘Like I’ve always said, payback is the best feeling you can have. You’ll more than pay him back. You’ll hit his reputation as well as his pocket, right?’
‘Right,’ said William, grinning.
Laura did not come down to breakfast that morning, but William saw Marta carrying a tray up to her room. He was going up to the roof for a swim. Perhaps Justin would be up there. He was. Peering over his dark glasses as William approached, Justin held out the copy of Vogue that he had been reading. ‘Have a look at page forty,’ he suggested.
William sat down next to him and picked up the magazine. Flicking through the pages, he stopped at the spread of his bedroom on the island. ‘Good God!’ he said. He read aloud, ‘“This extraordinary bedroom suite, with its canopied bed festooned with exquisite fabrics, its tasselled curtains and gorgeous rugs, like an Empire period fantasy in French opulence, announces the secret owner to be a man of taste and immense wealth. No doubt the fortunate guests will be universally famous, beautiful and strictly millionaires.”’ William dropped the magazine. ‘My name isn’t here, is it?’
‘’Course not,’ laughed Justin. ‘Don’t want to put them off.’
William read on, ‘“Everything in this room, from the wallpaper to the doorknobs, is handmade, its grandeur counterpointed by its elegance and restraint. It is a room to inspire, and indulge a man’s dreams. Only a high-flyer could come to rest in a bed that would have suited the Sun King himself.” Did you write it, Justin?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, it’s that slag Meryl Delaware. I gave her the photos and the specifications. Now she’s wild to see the place for herself. She believes it’s owned by a mystery consortium of reclusive millionaires or royalty.’
‘Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to tell them whose island it is soon. I mean, we’ve got them all wondering now, and that thing with Sylvina has put me back on the social map.’
Justin had to admit that William was right, but he had grown bored with this exchange and was moving inside.