by Shel Stone
A smile spread across his lips when he saw her. He was attracted to her—she could tell. And she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel nice after everything that had happened. “I’m pleased you could join me,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.
“It’s a pleasure.”
They were immediately led to their table, one by the window. The tablecloth was crisp linen in a rose colour. This restaurant was designed for softness and understated elegance. Some French touches in the design, but the food was high concept Spanish by a celebrated restauranteur returning from New York.
“I have to say, Marbella is growing on me. The pace is slower, but slow sometimes means more considered.”
“Would you say it suits you?” she asked.
“No, not entirely,” he admitted with a smile, “but it has shown me that perhaps I need to introduce more slow elements in my life. More freedom for distractions.”
“I have often wondered what a right balance is for someone in a position of responsibility. Some thrive on the chaos, and have a hard time to step outside of the maelstrom. I’m not one of them, in terms of the chaos. I stay far away from maelstroms.”
“Things are hard enough without creating dramatics for the point of it.” From what Samara had heard about their father, the man went out of his way to be disagreeable. She could certainly sympathise. Hassan was a little the same way when he wanted to prove his control and dominance, whether it was with his children, employees, and ultimately, his wife.
“I think it must show a certain level of fundamental insecurity to drive someone to act like that.”
“Family is one thing one cannot ignore, or control all that often,” he said with a chuckle. “I suppose they make us what we are, and as long as you’re proud of that, you have to in some way be proud of your family too.”
Could she be proud of Hassan in terms of making her who she was? In all honesty, she wasn’t sure who that was yet, in the aftermath, but she was proud of the things she valued, and that was a consequence of being married to Hassan. It could be said she’d learned a lot about what she wanted and what she didn’t. Another Hassan was definitely out. As were the games he played. Or what money made you entitled to. That truly bored her at this point.
“You ski, I think you mentioned,” she said to change the topic. Difficult people were not what she wanted to dwell on at the moment.
“I admit it’s been a while. In years past, I was quite the slope lout.”
“I am not particularly skilled, but I would like to learn.”
“Then I will endeavour to help you on this upcoming trip. I admit I’m looking forward to it now that it’s on the cards. As I said, it has been a while.”
It impressed her that he was willing and hopeful to enjoy something other than work. And that work wasn’t the entirety of his enjoyment. That was something she had learned from Hassan, who really didn’t enjoy much other than work, or rather the brutal competition he constantly thrived on.
Chapter 28
SAMARA’S SMILE WAS A WONDER. It spread across her lips in the most luscious way. Things felt genuine with her. There wasn’t the searching for things to say to please him, the building themselves up to be seen in a good light. She was simply here. A little light flirtation. There was interest, but guarded.
This was not someone won over by gifts and expensive dinners. And she wasn’t mesmerised by his social status, or luxuries. In fact, she’d asked nothing related to any of it—the kind of questions about how many houses he had, the extent of his portfolio, or what circles he travelled in. There wasn’t that gleam in her eyes he sometimes saw on dates, which suggested they were considering the lifestyle he could provide them.
In fact, he wasn’t sure Samara was willing to compromise. “You like it here in Marbella?”
“It’s become my home,” she said. “I have good friends and a lifestyle I enjoy.”
“No secret ambitions, then?”
“I do like being married. I like having a partner to share things with. But as you said, family is important, and I am going to be very choosy who I make commitments to.”
Tristan didn’t know whether to be concerned or impressed with her honesty. She didn’t hide the fact that she was searching for a husband. Perhaps not with desperation, but it was her aim to marry again. Normally, him headed straight for the door when someone said their aim was to nab a husband. Another part of him suspected she wouldn’t be overly bothered if he did. She really wasn’t here to build a picture of herself for him.
“But other than that, I am quite content here.”
That was a word he didn’t hear very often—content. It hadn’t been allowed in his family. Even the merest notion of it would irritate his father more than anything. Contentment was for weaklings. It showed lack of ambition, and frankly, lack of breeding, in his father’s eyes.
For a while, he’d believed that too. He'd bought his father’s harsh view of the world, had moulded himself on it. But as youthful determination had faded, he’d also seen the viciousness in his father. Or perhaps it had gotten worse as he’d aged. Bitterness had set in, and it had been difficult to believe.
They talked for a while about the things they enjoyed. Samara was well travelled, she knew art and literature, having studied both at Oxford, which surprised him.
Then she talked a little about her life and her friends with genuine enjoyment. They meant a great deal to her. That was perhaps something he didn’t have. Friends had fallen away after his university days, when business priorities had taken over. Social dinners had been replaced by business dinners. And as for women, it would be fair to say relationships had taken a backseat as well after his divorce. As with everything taking a backseat, none of them hadn’t thrived.
“I’ve enjoyed the evening,” he said when they bid goodbye outside the restaurant. Had enjoyed the company as much as he’d suspected he would. If he hadn’t made up his mind about coming on this skiing trip, he felt he might have an objective for it now. Having an objective tended to focus his mind, and his enjoyment.
“It was nice,” Samara replied. It was also exciting, because he didn’t quite know how to deal with her. His typical dates were more concerned about impressing and pleasing him, and that was not her aim.
“And I hope we’ll meet on the slopes. I will assist you in your quest to become a talented skier.”
“Basic competence is all I’ll aim for,” she said with a smile. “Goodnight, Tristan.”
She stepped away and he watched as she walked towards her car. Staying that extra minute to ensure she got inside it without incident. It felt like an old-fashioned thing to do, but there was something nice about it.
Once she was gone, he drove away, his phone ringing as he made it to the end of the street. It was his inheritance solicitor, so he answered as he had nothing better to do right them. “Mr. Barensteen,” the man said with his typical gravitas. The man ordered lunch with equal seriousness. “Things are progressing with the case. We are expecting to take it to a judge within a month, but there has been a development.”
“Oh?” Tristan said, hating when solicitors used those terms. It was their version of saying there was a problem, typically an expensive one.
“You sister has lodged a petition to be recognised.”
Tristan stopped the car, trying to think this through. This was not what they’d agreed. “What do you mean? Which sister?”
“Persephone.”
But they had agreed that he would sort out the inheritance, then they would divide the money and assets between them afterwards. This was not supposed to happen. It would muddy the water and make the whole process slower. “What does it mean?”
“It is not a petition for the estate, only a petition for recognition as a legal heir of Joseph Barensteen.”
Tristan still didn’t understand what it meant. “If not for the estate, why would she do that?”
“I expect simply to cover her for future eventualities, due to
the nature of your father’s will.”
“You mean in case she decides to sue me once the inheritance is decided.”
There was an uncomfortable silence down the phone. “I think it is to give her options if she should need it. That is probably how I would advise a client in her position.”
“Fine. Thank you for informing me,” he said and hung up. This was something he needed to talk to Persephone about. Clearly she had some plans beyond what they’d decided. It also suggested she didn’t trust him to keep his word.
After feeling mellow with the success of his date, he now felt unease. This was complicating things, as calm as the solicitor was about this, the truth was that she would only be doing this to have weapons against him.
The house was quiet when he got home and no one seemed to be around. It was late, and he had no idea where either of his sisters were.
Heading to the bar, he prepared a drink while he waited. It took an hour before Percy appeared, dropping her handbag on the table and sitting down. “Good evening?” she asked. She was aware he’d taken Samara out for dinner, and she hadn’t voiced an objection to it.
“Yes, it was, I have to admit. On the way home, I received a call from the solicitors for the estate. They tell me that you have lodged a claim against us.”
“Not a claim. Just recognition. It is something my firm insists on. Just legalese for arse-covering, as I understood it.”
“We had an agreement. We had a plan.”
“And nothing has changed, Tristan. They just insisted this was necessary in case certain eventualities occurred. Unlikely eventualities, but they’re lawyers—they obsess about such things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. They mentioned a possibility that an unknown heir come forward. It isn’t completely out of the realm of possibility that an unknown begotten offspring turns up at this time. They said it was absolutely necessary. The plan is still in place. This is simply if something unforeseen occurs. Not even you can guard against unforeseen things, brother.” Her voice was light and breezy, dismissive of this, and it might work on most, but he knew his sister better than most. She didn’t blindly follow the opinions of solicitors. Was much more considered in her decisions, and she’d decided to do this.
The potential of an unknown heir was perhaps fair. It would be in their father’s modus operandi to insist on secrecy of some misbegotten kid he’d fathered. Technically, though, it would be him, as the legitimate heir against this claimant. There was no reason she should involve herself. It was only making things more confusing. “I just feel it is unnecessary.”
“You know how lawyers are,” she said, rising from her seat, speaking just as dismissively as before. “They panic at the least thing. Nothing’s changed.”
Percy walked off to her room, and it felt a little like she’d just run away from the conversation.
Chapter 29
FOR SOME REASON, ESME wanted to meet at a cafe. Normally they met at his apartment, or elsewhere near a bed. Did she mean she was taking this relationship away from the quick hook-ups to more a boyfriend/girlfriend thing?
Ricky stroked down his cheeks as he walked in, trying to think though how he could ensure that they didn’t take this thing to the next level.
He spotted her in a booth, where she was biting the end of her thumb, looking thin and elfish. She just looked so fragile, and unfortunately, he knew that fragility wasn’t an act. It was the reason he was there, but he had no understanding of why he was there right then.
A guarded smile formed her lips when she looked at him. “Hi, Ricky,” she said as he slid into the opposing seat.
Would it really be so bad being her boyfriend? She was a decent girl, kind actually. Generous, even, when it came to her time and physicality, which he appreciated. Not all girls were like that, they guarded their time and bodies, thinking it was a downright treat sharing themselves. “Hey, Esme,” he said in return. “How are you?”
“Uhmm,” she said, her long sleeves clenched over her hands. “Good.” There was silence for a moment. “Do you want anything? A drink? Are you hungry?”
I want you to spit out what’s on your mind, he wanted to say. “Yeah, maybe one of those raw juices.” He’d stopped caffeine a while ago, and was trying really hard not to put stuff in his body that wouldn’t help him.
The waitress came over and took his order. Esme was looking down on the table while they waited. Her hair was soft and framed her face. “Did you get your hair cut?”
“Just a trim,” she said with a smile, but it melted from her face. She was uncomfortable and he couldn’t imagine why.
“So the thing is,” she started, her arms wrapping around her, “I, kind of... snogged someone.”
The statement astounded him for a moment. Snogged someone? What the fuck did that mean? Did she mean fucked? Did it matter? She was being up front about it, so it was obviously something she felt he needed to know, which meant it had been more than some peck on the cheek. It had been more. She’d turned her attention elsewhere, and whether it was snogging or fucking, it didn’t make an actual difference, did it? Or did it? He couldn’t figure out how he felt right then.
This he hadn’t expected, anger and hurt flared through him. He’d just been cheated on? After everything he’d done for her? She’d cheated? Being deceived never felt good, but after everything he’d sacrificed to make sure she was okay?
The juice arrived and it felt like the most inappropriate moment to be interrupted by a fucking juice. Esme was biting her lip and her large eyes were considering him. She should be distraught by her own shady behaviour. Looking so utterly innocent, when she’d just...
Hang on, this was fantastic, it occurred to him. his ticket out of this relationship had just been handed to him on a plate. “Wow,” he said, imbued with a collage of emotions. Being cheated on still sucked, but he’d just got his ticket to storm out of there. In fact, he could storm out of there, had every right to.
Truthfully, he was struggling to muster the angry outrage he’d felt mere moments before, because all he could think about was Solraya. Also if he stormed off all hurt, she would feel bad and maybe even try to make it up to him. History was pretty conclusive that when Esme batted her large, tear-stained eyes, he folded like a wet paper towel. “Well, that’s shit,” he said. No, it wasn’t. Should he feel terrible that he was actually happy about this? But who would she have gotten it on with, and why? Surely not that Darius Azmer shit? Guys like that tended to have girls strung around their fingers, which was responsible for her state as it was. “Who?”
“An ex,” she said, looking down as if she felt thoroughly ashamed. “There were just unresolved things, you know? I am so sorry. I didn’t in any way do it to hurt you.”
“So that explains why you go back and sleep with some dick who treated you like dirt?”
Esme winced at his anger, which he could actually muster, but not for the reason she thought. And really, by his own behaviour, he couldn’t completely rail at someone for cheating when he’d done it himself on a number of occasions. In the past. He’d actually been loyal to Esme, even as he hadn’t fully wanted to be in a relationship with her.
“Obviously we need to break up,” he said earnestly, so they were clear on that part. “Cheating means a relationship isn’t what it should be. I know, I’ve done it. It means something.”
Esme bit her lip as if she was trying to determine something. “I mean, I suppose you are right. I just feel so awful.”
On one hand, he wanted to say she shouldn’t, on the other, this wasn’t behaviour he wanted to encourage by dismissing it as irrelevant. And especially if she was returning to some ex who tore her to pieces.
“But saying that, I know what it is to stray to get out of a relationship—”
“This isn’t that,” she pointed out emphatically. “It’s just… It just happened.”
“With someone who’s really harmful to you.”
Her eyebro
ws drew together tightly as if she was confused.
“Isn’t this the guy who ripped your guts out and messed with your head? How smart is it go start things up with him again?”
“Oh, no, not him, another ex. Inns. Obviously, he did rip my guts out, but in a much gentler fashion.”
“That poncy guy who stands around and scowls all the time?” Okay, maybe he should be offended that she would cheat on him with that guy.
“He’s quite different when you get to know him.”
“Isn’t that horsy looking girl his girlfriend?”
“Yes, well, there is that.”
Ricky groaned. “You know, I’ve found life is so much easier if you don’t veer into absolute messes.”
“I know,” Esme said, looking down. “I… I’m sorry.”
“Well, clearly I’m hurt, and obviously, we need to break up,” he repeated. Maybe he should finalise the point by storming out. Otherwise he’d just get stuck in the situation again. “I think I better go.” It felt weird to walk out. It wasn’t as if he looked down on her for what she did. Things get complicated, especially when there are emotions involved. “Alright, well, I had better go. Maybe if there are unsettled things between you and this guy, maybe you should settle them.”
“I’m so sorry, Ricky,” she said. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“Sometimes things happen.”
He walked out and didn’t look back. If he did, she’d probably look so pitiful that he would turn back again. Her cheating was the perfect way to end this, as if it was meant to be, so he couldn’t screw this up by folding now. If he stayed, he might end up in a real relationship with her simply because he felt sorry for her.
Walking straight to his car, he got in and pulled out of the carpark as quickly as he could. Once on his way, he called Felix. “Hey, I just broke up with your sister,” he said when Felix answered.
“Uh, okay,” Felix said guardedly.