Page 70

She’d felt upset and angry all day. Last night at Níko’s party she had worn the sexiest dress she could find, she’d massaged oil all over her body and dusted a light shimmer of glitter over herself, she’d shown enough cleavage to drive most men crazy and thrown her skirts up at every opportunity to give Christian a glimpse of what he could have.

And when she had danced with him, she had whispered in his ear, ‘Let’s go somewhere private, just the two of us.’ Then she had brushed her lips over his.

None of it had worked. Christian had just laughed and taken her back to her table, with a chaste kiss on her forehead.

Her Jimmy Choos clacked on the cobbles as she headed towards Níko’s taverna. It wasn’t so late that everyone had gone home and there were still a few customers, finishing their meal and enjoying some of the island’s retsina which was made from grapes grown on Ithos.

She sat down at one of the tables, called the waitress over and ordered a Bacardi and Coke. The waitress looked at her uncertainly, but headed off inside with the order.

From her Louis Vuitton clutch, she took out a packet of Marlboro Lights and a vintage Cartier lighter that had been her grandfather’s. She lit the cigarette, drawing on it deeply, the buzz going to her head.

Looking out across the harbour, she brooded. What could she do to make Christian notice her? Maybe it was because he was embarrassed to show his feelings in front of his family; he was a reserved type of guy, so that must be it. It couldn’t be how she looked; she’d never had any problems getting guys before.

She took another draw on her cigarette. That new girl Grace was getting in the way too. Ariana was sure he couldn’t be interested in her. She was quite pretty, Ariana supposed, but she was a quiet squeak of a mouse and would be going back to her boring life in England soon.

She flicked her ash into the ashtray. Even with Elana on her side, she needed to be more strategic. She needed to get Christian on his own; he wouldn’t be able to resist her then.

Where the hell was her drink? She turned her head to see where the waitress had got to and when she looked back at the harbour her heart jumped. Christian’s boat, The Selene, was coming in to dock. Determined to look relaxed and cool when he came over, she stubbed out her cigarette, took out her lipstick and mirror, and began reapplying the Chanel Rouge Allure in a thick but precise layer. She pouted. A bit more eyeliner? She rummaged around, finding the black stick of kohl and deftly applied a touch around each eye, smudging it for the smoky effect. She pouted again: perfect.

She crossed her legs and threw back her hair. When Christian came in, she’d wave and invite him over for a drink; he was bound to be thirsty.

Her pout was replaced by a thin line of fury when she saw Christian had finished securing the mooring lines and was now reaching down to help the English girl clamber off the boat. He kept hold of her hand as the two of them made their way towards the taverna, taking their time, talking to each other in low voices. What the hell could they have to talk about?

Then she saw that Christian was carrying a cool box and Grace was carrying her towel, and it dawned on her that they must have been together all afternoon and all evening.

Her eyes narrowed in a cold, angry stare. Her heart froze as she watched him reach down to kiss Grace on the cheek, lingering too long for it to be just a kiss between friends. What else had they been doing during their happy little day trip? Grace let go of his hand and walked away down the side of the building, heading for the stairs that led to her room. Christian watched her go, and then made his way towards the main entrance of the taverna. He saw her and gave her a cheerful wave. It was all she could do to plaster a tight smile on her face and wave back.

Ariana sat there, dazed, feeling like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over her.

A moment later, the waitress returned, but there was no drink in her hand. ‘Where is my Bacardi?’ Ariana snapped.

The young waitress wrung her hands and looked awkward. ‘Teresa said your father would be angry if she served you alcohol.’

‘I’m eighteen years old,’ Ariana said through gritted teeth.

The waitress shrugged. ‘Don’t blame me. Take it up with Teresa. Would you like a Coke?’

‘No, I don’t want a fucking Coke!’ Ariana swept the ashtray onto the floor, grabbed her bag and marched off in the direction of the harbour wall. She felt like screaming. When were people going to stop treating her like a child? She was a woman and she knew exactly what she wanted.

‘Hey, Ariana!’ She turned to see Georgiou in his open-top convertible, still with the same arrogant look on his face. He eyed her lustfully.

‘There’s a pool party up the bay, want to come?’ He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little packet of white powder.

A small smile crept across her lips. Cocaine.

Georgiou opened the passenger door. ‘Jump in.’

Ariana climbed in beside him. She was no longer a child, and it was about time everyone knew it.

Chapter 29

Roxy and Alex were preparing to head down to the beach, as they did every morning. Shauna had promised Roxy that, if she looked after Alex for a couple of hours a day while she worked on her memoirs, she would do all the cooking and sign over 10 per cent of her royalties for the book.

‘Ha!’ I’ll never see a dime,’ Roxy had laughed. And after days of struggling to write about her childhood, Shauna was beginning to think she was right; at her current rate of progress, this book would never get written.

Alex couldn’t wait to set off. He kept tugging at Roxy’s hand, excited that he was going to see his friend Grace.

Shauna gazed longingly at the sea; today it was the colour of lapis lazuli and as calm as a millpond. She would have liked nothing better than to join them on the beach and meet the young waitress Alex had taken such a shine to. Apparently the girl was there most mornings for a swim before she started work, and always made time for a playdate with Alex.