“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—”
“I was about to have the hottest sex of my life!” she yells. “The hottest sex of my life!”
OK, she didn’t listen to a word, did she?
“I’m sorry,” I say feebly, dodging a man wheeling a huge suitcase bound with raffia.