Marbella Beauty

by Oster, Camille

  There was something between them. It wasn’t friendly; it was more confrontational. He seemed to dig into everything she said, as if he was looking for her to screw up so he could pounce on any sign of weakness. What form that pouncing would take, she had no idea.

  Placing a few canapés on her plate, she walked over to where the bulk of the girls sat. Not all of them—some were draped over their boyfriends, or even husband, in Rashida’s case. Terese sat down next to Parmi. “You okay?”

  “Great,” Parmi said. “Saw you talking to Alistair. He seems quite into you.”

  “What? No. Just, you know, bickering. He likes to dig for weakness.”

  “Weakness to what?”

  Opening her mouth, Terese realised she didn’t quite have an answer. “More stuff to hate?”

  “And apparently he’s still watching for stuff, right now.”

  Terese closed her lips around the blini she was placing in her mouth and looked over, and yes, he was still watching her, and not with a hurried, embarrassed look away at being caught. He really was forward, wasn’t he? As if he didn’t care if she caught him.

  “I think he’s into you.”

  Terese snorted. “Please, Parmi, he’s really not, and we’re not teenagers anymore.”

  “I don’t know. Whatever you call it these days, I think he is. You did sleep with him and he’s still checking you out.”

  “He’s not checking me out.”

  “If you say so.”

  “No, he’s definitely checking you out,” Aggie said. Terese hadn’t even known she’d been listening. Well, that just made it a thousand times more awkward. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t like that with him and her—they were chalk and cheese in every possible way, just recovering from the fact that they couldn’t stand each other. It meant nothing more than that.

  “He’s really not,” she repeated. “I might go to the ladies,” she said, putting down her plate. She did have to go, but more, she probably wanted to be out of this conversation. It was intensely uncomfortable with all their misunderstandings. Did Aggie know about the hate sex on the beach? Did they all? Not that she strictly cared, but they were obviously getting the wrong impression.

  Getting up, she swiftly walked back into the house, ignoring everything and everyone around her. Maybe it was time to leave this party. She’d come; Parmi could take it from here on her own.

  The bathroom was large and cool, covered with light green marble. It was located down a long, narrow hall and she couldn’t even hear the party outside. This was Jasper’s house, apparently, although Clara acted as if it was her party. Terese remembered Clara from school. They’d never been friends and had had nothing in common. And Clara had been a year younger. Terese hadn’t hated her or anything; they just hadn’t clicked, and a year’s age difference meant something back then.

  She went to the toilet and checked herself in the mirror. Between the drinks and the food, most of her lip gloss was gone. There was only a stain left. It didn’t look bad, but it wasn’t quite as impactful as the lips she’d arrived with.

  Washing her hands, she then washed some cold water across her cheeks and along the back of her neck. A water stain marred the neckline of the dress, but it would dry. She loved this dress and would hate for it to be ruined. Taking a last look, she turned to the door and unlocked it. The distant sound of music reached her as she stepped outside, walking down the hallway.

  To her surprise, Alistair appeared. His lower arm ran along the wall. He did look good in the green jacket and soft, pale-grey shirt underneath, which was tucked into the front into grey pants.

  Her mind urged her to say something as he approached, but nothing came. He must be seeking the bathroom, too. His eyes were on her as he approached and when she went to walk past him, he stepped in her way, surging forwards to kiss her. It took her utterly by surprise. His hand stoked along her cheek and grabbed the back of her neck, refusing to let her go. The softness and the taste seeped into her mind, stealing her sense away.

  The hard body pressed to hers. There was nothing soft about him, but she already knew that. The kiss deepened in silence, and she gave him access when he wanted more. The kiss felt like shining light in darkness. Every part of her body was singing with it. Oh, this was bad.

  His tongue toyed with hers and she knew she should stop this, but couldn’t. It was too heady, too lush. Every part of her wanted him. Her body was burning with heat she had refused to acknowledge.

  With his arm around her, he was moving her back the way she’d come. He was taking her into the bathroom again, locking the door behind him. She was flush to him as he held her up, her breasts pressed to his chest. “I love that dress,” he said. “It does very bad things to me.”

  “Oh? Such as?”

  “Making me want to steal you away.”

  The wall was behind her and he was kissing her again. She was powerless to fight it; it was so good. It felt wrong on every level. A strong woman should not be manhandled into a bathroom like this, should not be into him, particularly after what he’d done, what he was. He was everything she hated.

  A firm hand ran up her thigh, which he lifted her up against him. “We shouldn’t do this,” she said.

  “Probably not,” he growled. “But we are.”

  With her thighs around his hips, he pressed his hips into her and sensation seared through her. The tension was so heady, it filled every part of her, and hearing him say they were doing this made her insides clench. Instantly, she’d grown so wet, she could feel her underwear soaking. The underwear he was pulling aside.

  Quick movements and he was pushing into her. “Look at me,” he said and she couldn’t help complying. The exquisite pleasure was killing her as he impaled her. It felt utterly compelling, as if she’d been waiting for this. His eyes were glassy and urged her to look at him, when all she wanted to do was float away with the tide of sensation.

  A sharp thrust made her gasp, the tension inside her only building tighter. He held her up against the wall, the cold marble behind her and his hot body pressing into her. She needed to move, but he had her, her thighs held around him, to him. Another thrust and she gasped again. His eyes were wavering now; he couldn’t hold the stare between them either.

  Moving closer, he pressed to her, his head falling into the crook of her neck. Her insides were convulsing around him, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. It wasn’t like this with anyone else, this raw. This was pure need. It wasn’t even want; she needed him.

  The urge to move was so strong; she needed more, tripping into a powerful orgasm, her body pulsing around him as he was deeply buried inside her. The taste of him, the scent of him. He’d taken every one of her senses. They were kissing when her orgasm receded, and he was still hard inside her, grinding to her, groaning as if he was in pain. It gave her a moment to observe him, the eagerness as he pushed into her, finding his release inside her.

  Yes, apparently she did end up fucking Alistair Cartright whenever she went to one of these things. Good to know, she told herself sharply. Still, so very good. Her body was still singing with spend desire. He was that guy for her, the one she couldn’t quite say no to and the sex was simply compelling. She’d never come so hard as she did with him.

  He kissed her again, as if he wasn’t accepting that this was over. Slow, deep kisses. How was it that he tasted so damned good? Finally, he pulled away. Still propped up against the wall, she checked that her knees would actually take her weight.

  Straightening himself, he ran his hand through his hair, then looked over at her. There was something there in his eyes, something he wasn’t saying. “That wasn’t hate sex.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Then what was it?”

  “Well, it seems to have become my reason for living at the moment.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Well, I am going through a severe crisis, as we’ve discovered, but th
is seems to work for me.”

  “Well, that’s just dandy.”

  “Which is going to be an issue if you leave, so how about you don’t.”

  “I do have a job to get back to. What exactly are we talking about here?” she said, shaking her head. What the hell was going on?

  “Me and you.”

  “There is no me and you.”

  “Well, obviously there is.”

  Terese opened her mouth, having no idea what to say. Things had definitely slipped out of her control at some point, and she saw no way of getting back on track. “I have to go.”

  “We need to talk about this.”

  “What is there to talk about? We just had unprotected sex in some random person’s bathroom. Hugely irresponsible, and we don’t even like each other.” Pulling away from him, she unlocked the door and marched out. How could she had let herself do this? What the hell was wrong with her? With him? This was full-on crazy.

  Chapter 65

  Pulling her sleek little Mercedes into the carpark of Le Brienne, Cheyenne got out. She’d donned a stunning little silver dress, which left her legs for all to see. If she was going to be driven out of town, she wasn’t going to hide what she had—and this didn’t.

  Paul had been right, you can’t keep a top-shelf girl down—no matter what these jealous, matronly-before-their-time bitches thought. When it came down to it, they were never going to have it. They might have won this round, but the war belonged to the victors.

  Dropping her keys in the speechless valet’s hand, she walked into the restaurant, ignoring the maître d as she continued out onto the garden patio. This place was nice. Good design and indecent prices.

  Along one of the tables, Alice sat looking slightly out of place. She might actually be wearing Laura Ashley. Did they even have those stores anymore? How many seasons old was that? Cheyenne sighed. The woman was just clueless.

  “Gin and tonic,” she said to a passing waiter without looking him. “Thank you for coming,” she said as she sat down. “I’ve just ordered a drink. Have you ordered one?”

  “Not yet,” Alice said.

  “Another,” Cheyenne called back to the waiter, again without looking at them. Waiters always heard. Two drinks would be there soon enough.

  Alice eyed her suspiciously, taking in her dress, her hair and the diamonds on her wrist. Her companion was the kind of girl who’d worn uniforms for most of her formative years, then dressed cluelessly after that, tentatively venturing into what she thought was stylish, which more often than not was something her mother likely approved of. But then she was of Paul’s ilk.

  “I’d thought we’d have a little chat about Paul,” Cheyenne said and Alice shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “He is a stupid man, but they are all stupid.”

  Two gin and tonics arrived, placed down under soft paper coasters.

  Alice held her head high and met Cheyenne’s eyes. She had some guts to her. That was encouraging to see. “He really likes you,” Cheyenne continued.

  “And what does he think about you?”

  “Guys don’t think when I’m around; they just do what I want. It’s a fault in their brains. You shouldn’t hold that against him.” Cheyenne took a deep sip of the drink, appreciating the bitterness. “He might actually be better than the lot of them. He’s a damned sight better than Roger. It was his misfortune to get between me and what I wanted, which incidentally wasn’t Paul.”

  “You used him.”

  Cheyenne smiled. She wasn’t ashamed of it. “Aren’t they all there to be used?”

  Alice gave her a disapproving look.

  “I do like Paul enough to know he should be with someone like you. I think you two would rub along quite well together.”

  “It’s quite hard to trust someone who goes around your back.”

  “As I said, Paul got in my way.”

  “That’s a really mercenary way of looking at the world.”

  “True. Perhaps you shouldn’t judge Paul by it,” Cheyenne said and grabbed her clutch. She’d said what she had to say. She’d done her bit. If Alice wasn’t of mind to forgive him, that was her problem. Cheyenne wasn’t going to give her more. Already, she’d come out of her way to try to sort things for Paul. She didn’t like Paul, but he was the only one who’d been nice to her when everyone else hadn’t been. That might be weakness on his part, but she wasn’t going to forget it.

  The valet hopped to it when she walked out the door, ringing back to wherever the cars were held and it only took a minute before another young man drove around with her car.

  “Here you go, Miss Terpa,” he said with a smile. He was cute—really cute. Spanish with dark honey skin and blue eyes, nice square jaw and what looked like a body that had seen a weight or two.

  “Got a passport?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” she smiled. “Meet me at the Malaga airport in two hours.” With long legs, she stepped in the car, her barely-there skirt riding even higher. “Or don’t.” Closing the door, she half smiled and drove away. He would be there with bells on, waiting when she arrived. It wouldn’t be hard to find a use for him. He could carry her bag, as well.

  It was time to leave this place behind, time to regroup and gather new ammunition. A bit of entertainment on the way wouldn’t hurt. Her housekeeper had instructions to close the house down and the pack up her clothes. Technically, she could leave some of them here, but it might be time for a new wardrobe, as well.

  With a smile, she drove west on the motorway, the warm air flowing through her hair. This was one thing she adored about herself: she picked herself up and moved on, no matter what was thrown at her. Los Angeles was waiting and she was going to conquer. If she bothered coming back here, she would be stronger than ever and those pathetic little cows would quake in her wake.

  Chapter 66

  Smiling as the students filed out of the classroom, Paul packed up his things and walked back to his office. It was actually raining and he loved it; loved the distortion on the windows, the patter of it on the leafs outside his window. It also made him think of home. Marbella slowed down when it rained, as if everything took a breather from the chaos.

  For a moment, he just sat and stared out the window. Deceptively, it was warmer outside than it looked. Then he returned his attention to his desk. Dinner was scheduled with Rosalie and Alexi, and he might stay in the office until then, working on next week’s set of lectures.

  Even he had heard that Cheyenne had packed up and left town. He wasn’t sure anyone was going to miss her, which he felt slightly sorry for. It was uncomfortable to think people were collectively glad to see the back of someone, but it was true. As destructive as she was—and to him, she’d been devastating—she certainly livened things up. But it wasn’t just her; this place responded to her unique set of craziness.

  Nope, he didn’t want to work today. Felt too pensive to sit and focus. Instead, he got up again and shoved his laptop into his briefcase. No, he would go home, maybe get an ice cream on the way. Perhaps even a beer and some tapas. Sometimes he wished Marbella was a little more Spanish than it was. He could probably find some in Old Town, but it was a hassle getting there in the rain.

  Water soaked into his shoulders as he walked to his car. The seat was wet too, because he’d forgotten to put the roof up. It was so rarely necessary. Maybe if he’d checked the weather report, he would have known it was going to rain, but he rarely did here. It was usually a pretty unrewarding activity.

  His phone pinged with a text as he started the car and he grabbed it out of its pocket on his briefcase. Maybe Rosalie had changed the plans. But it wasn’t Rosalie; it was from Alice. Paul’s breath caught. This was unexpected.

  Hi, was all it said.

  Hi, how are you? he texted back.

  I’m alright. It’s raining.

  I left the roof down on my car.

  Nothing returned for a moment and Paul didn’t know what to do. What did this mean? Why w
as she getting in touch with him? Desperately, he wanted to say something that wasn’t going to put her off. This felt so very tentative, as if she would run away at the drop of a hat. He just couldn’t think of something to say.

  It’s nice with a little rain, car excluded, was what he sent and felt utterly stupid afterward. Great, talk about the rain, like the most boring person on the planet.

  Makes one think of home, doesn’t it?

  Not an utter disaster, he recognised.

  I was thinking the same. I’m sorry how things turned out. Might as well bite the bullet. The screen stayed empty for a while.

  Things don’t always run smoothly, she said. What did that mean?

  I never intended for that to happen.

  I can imagine.

  Again, what did that mean? Was that good? Did it indicate that there was some kind of future between them as friends?

  Cheyenne spoke to me. That was the last thing he expected to read and he felt cloying fear twist his guts. Cheyenne had spoken to her. Oh God, what had she said? Please God, don’t let her have been mean. He was talking about Cheyenne here; how could she have been anything but?

  Pure unease gripped his heart as he dialled Alice’s number.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  “You cannot pay attention to Cheyenne’s cruelty. She’s a twisted person and goes out of her way to be horrible to people.

  “She wasn’t cruel. Not exactly.”

  “I’m so sorry I got you involved with this. I actually think she’s a psychopath.”

  “I think she was actually trying to be nice, in her uniquely strange way.”

  He snorted. “Cheyenne doesn’t do nice.”

  “I think she was trying to fix things between us.”

  Paul was stumped.

  “She said you were probably the best guy to be found here in Marbella.”

  Okay, he usually argued with anything that came out of Cheyenne’s mouth, but this had him floored.

  “For someone like me, she said,” Alice continued.