In less than a minute, 500 photos appear on my laptop screen. Resisting the urge to set up a slide
show, depicting our tour of the Eternal City, I scan through them, tracing our movements from our
starting point, the Coliseum. The Spanish Steps materialise out of the flickering images and I lean in,
enlarging each frame.
I recollect handing my camera to a fellow Brit to take a couple of photos, and she has. Lots. Each
one is a faithful representation of our love; wide smiles and eyes only for each other; every
consecutive image more memorable than the one before it.
I think I’ve found it. From what I remember, we’re embracing. Ayden is lifting me off my feet and
I’m gazing into the camera but, for some reason, he’s not. I zoom in to take a closer look.
Whilst I’m turning to the photographer, he’s turning away. Something has caught his eye. Up close
his expression is bordering on anxious; he looks as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Mentally, he’s left me for something or someone else. How could I have missed that?
I follow his line of sight and what I see causes me to gasp and push back on my chair.
It’s Alenka!
Because of her height and stunning beauty, she stands out in the crowd. In fact, she looks out of
place surrounded by mere mortals carrying cameras and cornets overflowing with ice-cream. What the
fuck is she doing there?
I zoom out to scrutinise the photo in its entirety. Is Ayden actually looking at her? Is she looking at
him? What’s going on?
I reach for my mobile and text Charlie:
If you’ve not left bring your laptop with you. I need your eyes. CU soon. B.x
I get an immediate reply:
Will do. C.x
The idea of taking a bath seems redundant now. I’m too preoccupied to relax and I don’t think even
a layer of foaming bubbles will calm my nerves. A ten minute shower will have to do.
Wearing a long sleeved T-shirt, unflattering sweat pants and a head of wet hair, I return to my
laptop. I take a swig of white wine and prepare to face my darkest fear.
To begin with, I Google search images of ‘model Alenka’ and up she comes; over a thousand
photographs of her in different poses, outfits, at various functions and with an array of handsome men.
One of which left my apartment only an hour ago.
Bypassing her biography, I click on the first photograph of her and Ayden, nibbling on my thumb
nail nervously, unsure of what I’ll find.
What a surprise. A lesser known annual event: the Cannes Film Festival. How handsome Ayden
looks in his signature suit, grey shirt and maroon tie; she’s matched to him in a claret gown. What a
stunningly attractive couple they make. Two of the world’s beautiful people striking a pose and
stealing the limelight. I cannot take my eyes off her, holding onto his arm as if she belongs by his
side. Why the hell didn’t I think to find out about her before now?
I refuse to read the article. The caption says it all. “Media Magnate Stone with supermodel
girlfriend Alenka.’ The fact she doesn’t even have a Surname pisses me off, but not as much as the
word ‘supermodel’: it sticks in my throat like a chicken bone.
I move on.
Picture number two: the U.S Open Tennis Tournament in Flushing Meadows, New York. The
championship winner Novak Djokovic is shaking Ayden’s hand and, once again, there stands Alenka
close at hand, looking every inch the catwalk queen. How can anyone look that good in a plain, yellow
dress?
Picture number three, the Belgian Grand Prix; the pair of them casually dressed, standing with the
winner Jenson Button, hand in hand.
Fuck!!
I can take no more. There are things in this world I will never understand but of this, I have no
doubt. For at least six months last year Ayden and Alenka were an item; sharing flights, sharing
experiences, sharing his bed. I recall his words: ‘ I like to fuck beautiful women who want to be fucked
by me.’ That would be you, Alenka. But what makes a woman like you, with the world at your feet,
turn into a stalker, I wonder?
The doorbell sounds, here’s Charlie. The cavalry has arrived. She bounds in like an excited red
setter, fussing and breaking the silence with her enthusiasm for life. She’ll burst a blood vessel when I
regale her with my news.
“Let’s get the bubbly poured out so we can toast our successes,” she calls out, heading into the
kitchen to grab a couple of champagne flutes. Personally, I think that’s a little premature.
“What are we celebrating?” I ask curiously, lifting my effervescent liquid up to the light.
“You nailing the most eligible bachelor in the country, if not the planet, and my promotion.” She
winks and sips the golden contents of her fluted glass. ”You’re now looking at the Associate Manager
for European Investment and Development.”
“I am?” I grin warmly. “Well done, you. Let’s toast to that.” The rims of our glasses touch and the
high pitched sound they make resonates around the room. “I’ve got some work to do. Want to help?”
Sipping slowly, she nods. “Sure, why not? What else would I be doing at six thirty on a Saturday
night? “
I shrug my shoulders, pretending not to have an answer. “I think Ayden has a problem and it looks
like that.” I point to a picture of Alenka posing in her underwear, looking good enough to turn a
heterosexual female.
“Fuck! Most guys would give their right arm for a problem like that,” she sniggers, taking a closer
look. “Specifically, what kind of problem are we talking about?”
“The stalking kind.” I stare and nod my head dramatically.
“No way. The last thing I’d be doing if I looked like that would be stalking some guy. I’d be too
busy getting gorgeous guys to wine, dine and do me ...”
“She’s already done that,” I reply, flicking up a photo of her and Ayden in Cannes.
“Shit!”
“My sentiments exactly.”
I slip my memory stick into her laptop sitting beside mine on the kitchen table and bring up the
photos off it. “I’ve spotted her on one of our pictures taken in Rome and I want to know if she was
with us all day, following us round.” I point to the screen. “If you take the first 250, I’ll take the rest. I
want you to check the crowd or the background for her. She’s hard to miss.”
“You can say that again.” She touches my arm. “Is this why you’re so edgy?”
“Partly, but there are other things going on in my head.”
“Do tell, I’m here for you hon. I realise Mr. P. has come along and swept you off your feet. It’s a
wonder you don’t have whiplash.”
Her choice of words make me chuckle.
“I wonder what she’s like, your supermodel,” she muses, starting to click and scrutinise each frame.
“She speaks with an Eastern European accent; she’s articulate, confident and tough.” I state
assuredly.
She’s surprised by my observation. “How do you know? Oh, don’t tell me you’ve met her?”
“Hardly. She met me.”
I take another sip and explain our unforgettable encounter at the book launch almost a week ago.
How she scared me and succeeded in getting me to break-up with Ayden. I go into a little detail about
our make-up and his obsession with winning but, more importantly, how Ale
nka only brought us
closer. Her plan failed miserably.
As we scan through each photo, zooming in and zooming out, I get to hear her comments about my
clothes, Ayden’s arse and how good we look together. She’s not wrong. We do make a cute couple. I
may not be a supermodel but I swear he’s not looking at Alenka the way he’s looking at me. I can’t
begin to express how relieved that makes me feel.
It takes an hour of close checking to examine all the photos and we sit back and exhale. Job done.
I’m relieved and Charlie’s ready for Chinese food. I place the container into the microwave and sit
myself down next to her, noticing her strange expression.
What has she spotted?
“What is it?” I ask, still feeling anxious.
She turns my laptop round and the picture in question is right there in front of me.
“Notice anything else unusual about this picture?”
I keep looking, to the point where my eyes are unable to focus. I can’t see anything, other than his
sombre expression and Alenka in the background.
“Look how Ayden is holding something behind your back. It looks like a box of some sort.” She
taps her nail on the screen.
I look again. She’s right. He’s holding something in his left hand. I realise what it is. “It’s my
engagement ring.”
“Your what!” Her eyes are wide and wild.
“This ...” I hold it up for her to see, smiling from ear to ear.
She grabs my hand and stares. “No fucking way! How many carats is that?”
I shrug. I haven’t a clue.
“Didn’t you ask?”
“Of course not ...” I smile, faking indignation.
“I get the stack of diamonds, but why’s the sapphire in the shape of a heart?”
“It matches this.” I hold up my bracelet.”
“Christ! How much have I missed?”
“Too much.” I grin, giving her a much needed hug,
She’s still shaking her head in disbelief. “So all this time, he’s been buying you gifts; he’s flown
you off to Rome ...”
“In his private jet.”
“Naturally, in his private jet and booked you into a swanky hotel room ...”
“Suite.”
“Sorry, suite, for a romantic break.” She pauses and takes a sip of her warm champagne. “Let me
know if I miss anything ... and then takes you on a tour of Rome?”
I interject. “Not quite. There was Miss Magnani. She did half the tour.”
“How come?”
“She tried to steal him off me but he ravished me in the cafe by the Pantheon and fired her.” I say it
so matter-of-factly that her mouth falls open again in disbelief.
“My, my ... haven’t you had a busy time.” She’s holding out her hands. “And ...
“We returned to the hotel and I thought we were going out to dinner but he had the staff set up a
candle lit dinner on the terrace.” I feel myself starting to gush, but I can’t help it; this has never
happened to me before and it may never happen again. “There were jasmine scented candles
everywhere and a string quartet, and it was just wonderful.”
“And that was it ...”
“No, that wasn’t it. We went to bed. I tied him up and fucked the shit out of him.” For my own
amusement I use Ayden’s own words and they make me laugh. No wonder he had to postpone his
proposal until the next day. I was so hot for him.
Charlie isn’t having any of it. “Yeah, right!”
“Okay, we went to bed and it was a perfect evening but, truth is, I can’t keep my hands off him. I
only have to catch sight of him and my heart starts to race and I’m as horny as hell.”
“I bet he finds that a real turn-off?” Charlie sniggers sarcastically.
“He feels the same around me, I think. We’re good together.”
She leans over and gives me a sisterly hug. “Oh, Beth, I’m so happy for you. Your Mr. P. has come
good, just like you said he would.”
“And often ...” I add, much to her surprise.
“Now stop. You’re making me horny with your dirty mouth.”
We toast to the prospect of more steamy nights and I settle myself before returning my attention to
the photograph. “That’s why I don’t understand. Why is she there? He ended the relationship months
ago and now she’s stalking him. Either he knows or I should tell him. What do you think?”
“I think he already knows and, by the look on his face, he’s not happy about it. If he doesn’t ... then
you should be the one to tell him.” She takes a minute. “If it was me, I’d want to know who she is.
Let’s take a look at you, Miss Alenka, whatever your name is.”
Lots of results emerge. She reads it to herself, scanning for salient information.
“And ...”
“It says here she was born in 1986, the daughter of a wealthy Czechoslovakian Diplomat. She went
to some fancy school and then on to the University of Prague. She has a degree in Theology and
Religious Studies and speaks three languages fluently. She was spotted when she appeared in the
university magazine, giving a speech to a local school about cultural values and the importance of
education. Since then, well, she’s appeared in every glossy magazine you can think of and is a familiar
face at international fashion shows. She’s 5’10 has green eyes and auburn hair ...” I actually think
Charlie is lost for words.
I break the silence. “No competition there then?” We burst into laughter and I flutter my eyelashes
as if I haven’t a care in the world when, in fact, I’m quaking in my boots. “My enemy isn’t just a
goddess she’s a friggin’ genius too!”
Charlie doesn’t answer but we both know it’s true. “You might say that but she’s been around a bit
and you’re ... you know, less experienced. That must count for something?”
“And you think that’s a bonus, do you? Hello! Have you taken a look at Ayden recently?” I’m
starting to panic. I can’t pretend Alenka isn’t a threat.
“She’s had a whole series of boyfriends, A-listers mostly and, you know who, of course.” She
throws me a sympathetic look. “But what surprises me is that it says here that she ended a six month
relationship with media tycoon Ayden Stone last November.”
“Then why the hell is she stalking him?” I ask, hoping for an answer.
“You’ll have to ask her.” Charlie turns to face me. She’s totally serious.
“Me?”
“Yes. You’ve met her once before?”
“Well, yeah and she chewed me up and spat me out.” I begin to laugh at myself.
“But this time you’ll be ready for her, hon. Don’t you want her to know you’re onto her?”
I’m becoming exasperated, unsure of what my next step should be. “Yes, but ...”
“But nothing. She wants him back Beth and you’ll have to fight for him, if you want to keep him.”
I nod my head in agreement. She’s absolutely right. If I simply sit it out, I may wake up one
morning only to find I’ve been replaced. “You’re right. It’s Miss Magnani all over again. Only this
time she has a head start.”
“But Beth, you’re forgetting something.”
I tip my head, desperate to hear something that will bolster my confidence.
“He loves you. ”
Those three words put everything into perspective. As long as Ayden continues to love me, she isn’t
a threat. He’s had numerous opportunities t
o get back with her and yet, here I stand, wearing his heart
on my finger.
“Yes, you’re right. I’m worrying over nothing. I’ll get hold of her number from somewhere and
have it out with her. See what she’s up to.”
She gives me a knowing look. “I think I can help with that … I know this gorgeous guy who lives in
front of the camera. I bet he knows her. She’s not exactly hard to forget, is she?”
Reluctantly, I nod in agreement.
“Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.”
“You should be thinking about your party Char, not this.”
“Hey, are you kidding, I live for this stuff. Only I’m used to being on the receiving end. You’ve
been living life vicariously for long enough.” She gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Welcome to the
fast lane Beth.”
“Is that what it is?” I’m not convinced.
The next hour is spent eating Chinese food. Charlie leaves the quarter bottle of Champagne with me
and heads home at around 10 o’clock, needing to prepare for her early morning work-out. I flop down
on the sofa, feeling my age for the first time in … ever. My back aches and my eyes are flickering. It’s
time for bed, but not before I’ve wished Ayden goodnight.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 27th October 2012 10.17p.m.
Subject: THINKING OF YOU
Until You: Shayne Ward.
Charlie has just left and she’s all fired up about her birthday party. It should be fun.
I’ve been scanning our holiday snaps; my, my Mr. P you’re a handsome guy and I’m such a
lucky girl. I’m reliving every moment and, quite frankly, may have trouble sleeping ...
I’ve included a good night song for you. Try and get some sleep before you land.
These words from my lips to your heart.
Missing you much,
I love you
B. x
Before I finish clearing away, I receive a reply. He’s been waiting for me to email him, probably
because he’s still guilt ridden about his behaviour.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 28th October 2012 04.30a.m.
Subject: THINKING OF YOU TOO
Until You: Shayne Ward.
TouchStone for giving (The Story of Us Trilogy) Page 3