Scandalous Lies: An addictive, sexy beach read

by Nigel May

  ‘And reach for it, girls, stretch up and feel that burn. And again from the top. To the left … and one, two, three, clap!’ Mitzi’s voice was popping like a cork as she excitedly gave out orders to the young women gathered in front of her. ‘C’mon Vic, you are working it, lady …’

  Victoria, out of breath but loving the fizziness of physicality running through her, smiled at Mitzi from her place in the front row of the fitness group as she spoke to her. Mitzi knew how to make her savour every last moment of the Zumba lessons. It was forty-five minutes of high energy hip-swaying, booty-gyrating action and Victoria loved it.

  ‘You know I am, Mitzi!’ shouted Victoria, allowing herself to holler as loudly as her frenzied breathing would allow. She turned to the woman at her side, Evie, and smiled at their enthusiasm. There were about twenty women in the group, of all ages, and she and Evie were always placed front row, centre stage. They let out a whoop as they spun around and followed Mitzi’s choreography. As they did so, they could see those gathered in the rows behind them, all equally bubbling over with Mitzi’s infectious excitement as they moved their bodies to the sounds of a beat-laden slab of Christina Aguilera. Many of the women in the group had been on nights out together. There was Mitzi’s best friend, Georgia, she’d spoken to her a few times, spinning tip to toe in skintight Nike Pro, a friend of Evie’s called Nush from college bumping her Skechers in the air and a whole host of hyped up ladies loving the feeling that Mitzi was giving them. And the exciting thing was that after most lessons you could guarantee that Mitzi would insist that those willing decamped to the local bar. Life was for getting fit, but as Mitzi said, ‘you get fit for the fitties’. And by that she meant men.

  And men were definitely on the agenda as Victoria, Evie, Mitzi, Nush and Georgia giggled their way through bottles of Prosecco while flirting with a group of guys frequenting the same bar. Victoria, her inhibitions doused in bubbles, was gyrating her buttocks, rock hard post class, into the more than willing groin of a licorice coloured beauty with biceps wider than her waist and a smile that outshone the Aurora Borealis. And from what she could feel it wasn’t just his biceps that were impressive in size. Evie and her friend Nush watched on, grinning their approval. Mitzi and Georgia, both downing Sambuca at the bar, squealed as they watched Victoria in action, carefree and enjoying every moment of her suitor’s admiration.

  Victoria snogged the man, loving the feel of his lips against hers, her kisses deep and urgent. For a moment she forgot completely that there were people around her, able to watch her every move. Blame the drink, she didn’t care. She was having the time of her life. It was moments like this that made her grateful that her parents had all but deported her from New Orleans to start school at Farmington Grange. It was there she’d met some of the best friends she’d ever known.

  It was a drunken Mitzi who pulled Victoria and the chisel-jawed beauty apart. Not because she objected, far from it, she had something to say. ‘And the prize for best bloke pulling of the evening goes to ...’ She let out a makeshift fanfare with her lips. ‘ …Victoria Wentworth!’ As Evie, Georgia and Nush applauded Victoria, Mitzi reached down into her Michael Kors bag and pulled out a tiny silver trophy.

  ‘I meant to give this to Zumba mover of the night, but I forgot,’ slurred Mitzi. ‘So, Victoria, you receive it, honey, for fabulous drunken services to womankind in snogging beauties like him.’ She pointed at the man, somewhat embarrassed to find himself suddenly the centre of so much female attention, and handed the trophy over to a beaming Victoria.

  She still had it somewhere. Probably in a box underneath her and Scott’s bed. How come she still had that, but had managed to let herself lose contact with Mitzi? When she had met Scott all Zumba lessons and girly nights out seemed to dwindle, despite Mitzi and Evie’s constant asking. Victoria had shifted from hedonism to homemaker at a rate of nought to sixty in as many seconds. From trophy winner to trophy wife.

  Despite thoughts of Mitzi, Victoria’s mind was already de-stressing since her arrival in India. If she had any reason for suspicion about Scott she consciously pushed it to one side and wouldn’t let it shadow her brain. If she couldn’t be here to rebuild bridges with Scott, then she would try to rebuild them with her former self. Maybe it was the romantic air of India but she was determined to feel good about herself and her relationship again.

  Her mind snapped back to reality as she nearly bumped full-pelt into the virtually naked torso of a very handsome man. Actually, make that drop dead gorgeous. He was wearing Havaianas and a pair of snug-fitting swimming trunks that obviously housed something that could make even the most innocent of women raise an inquisitive eyebrow. His dark hair was slicked back onto his head and his skin gave off the healthy, glossy glow of a man who obviously looked after himself.

  She could feel a flush of colour stain her cheeks. She immediately thought of her own body shape and size. Thank God for the loose fitting kaftan-like creation she has chosen to head poolside in. In a rare moment of lust, though, all thoughts of her own extra body inches were replaced by a contemplation of what the man was housing in his bathers. She inwardly smiled at the thought, more than a ripple of desire taking her by surprise.

  ‘I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. I think I had the sun in my eyes,’ he said.

  A touch perplexed, Victoria remained silent for a moment, staring deep into the man’s face. Didn’t she know him from somewhere? Suddenly aware of how awkward she must have seemed, Victoria began to speak.

  ‘No worries, I was miles away too. I was just taking all of this in.’ She gestured to her surroundings.

  ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? Are you here for the cookery course?’ Charlie couldn’t help but inwardly smile too. It was obvious the women fancied him. It was still good to know that he could turn a good-looking lady’s head. Especially when she bumped into him while he was wearing the most minimal of outfits. Does any man ever tire of that? mused Charlie. He thought not. Red blood was red blood and it was always good to advertise.

  ‘Er … yes, I am. Thought I’d give it a try. I’m fed up of burning everything back at home. Needed an extra bit of help, love the chef, thought it would give me a certain culinary flair?’ Victoria was rambling.

  ‘Are you here from the States?’ I’m detecting an accent,’ said the man. ‘Me too. Although I live in the UK now. My name’s Charlie Cooper.’

  ‘Of course, you’re the man from the morning TV show. You were the one who told me about this course in the first place. On the TV I mean, not in person. We’ve never met, but I’ve seen you a lot.’ Recognition may have fallen into place, but she was still rambling. ‘And yes, I’m from the States, New Orleans, but I live in London now, which is why I know you …’ Her words filtered away, she was not quite sure what to say next.

  ‘And you are?’ Charlie held out his hand to shake hers.

  ‘Oh sorry, I’m Victoria Palmer-Roberts. Nice to meet you.’

  ‘You too, doubtless I’ll see you on the course. Or poolside if you’re heading that way. I’m just going to the spa for a list of treatments for my mother and girlfriend. They’re plotting what to have. Have you tried the spa yet?’

  Victoria didn’t answer. She hadn’t actually heard the question as she’d stopped concentrating when he’d mentioned the word ‘girlfriend’. Of course he was taken. And she knew who by, of course. Georgia. She hadn’t seen her for years, and now she was mere metres away. For a whisper of a moment she felt guilty that she had been having the most wanton inner desires about Georgia’s man but she quickly suppressed it. She didn’t really know Georgia, did she? Not like she knew Evie and Mitzi. And if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a glint of danger in Charlie’s eye that suggested that he was not as wholesome as he was handsome. Was that her imagination? Something told her otherwise. For the moment, it wasn’t just that her husband was physically thousands of miles away, but any thoughts of him were, too.

  Realising that an answer wasn’t forthcoming abo
ut the treatments, a bemused yet pumped up Charlie said goodbye and swaggered off towards the spa.

  Victoria smiled, waved her hand and carried on towards the pool. She’d say hi to Georgia. It would be good to see her again, wouldn’t it? Her skin prickled slightly as she started to walk. Was it the sun causing that or was that a slick of jealousy she was suddenly experiencing? Victoria wasn’t sure.

  Georgia recognised Victoria straight away. The American girl who used to be part of Mitzi’s Zumba group and had shared a few nights out with the girls.

  ‘Oh my God, now you’re a blast from the past. It’s Victoria, isn’t it?’

  Victoria was amazed she could remember her name and instantly warmed to Georgia. Even though they had shared evenings together they had never been close and Victoria couldn’t help but feel that her appearance had changed drastically since the two women had last crossed paths.

  ‘Yes, and you’re Georgia. Nice to see you again. Especially somewhere as beautiful as this. I think the last time was probably on drunken nights out way back when with Mitzi and Evie.’ The two women hugged and as they did, in some small way bonded, without words, over their connection to Mitzi. Two satellites, disconnected in their own worlds, but that had both once circled the same moon.

  For the next ten minutes the women talked about their lives, Victoria filling Georgia in on her marriage to Scott and her children, and Georgia talking about Charlie. Georgia introduced Victoria to Jacob and Nova. Victoria instantly recognised her and couldn’t stop herself from mentioning that she’d been reading about her on the flight over.

  Charlie rejoined the group. ‘I see you’ve all met,’ he commented. Both Georgia and Victoria’s eyes fell on him in appreciation as he reached the pool.

  ‘It’s amazing, I used to be the same Zumba group as Victoria a few years ago,’ laughed Georgia. ‘We were both taught by ...’ Her voice faded away before she completed the sentence, almost afraid to mention the common link between them.

  ‘Mitzi,’ said Victoria. A moment of hush seemed to fall across the group before Victoria spoke again.

  ‘Isn’t the latest news just awful? I was just reading about it on my iPad. I was praying the outcome would be different.’

  All heads turned quizzically towards her.

  ‘The latest news? What do you mean?’ asked Georgia, feeling a shiver down her spine.

  Victoria reached for her iPad and flicked to the article she’d been reading back in her room. She handed it over.

  Fear gripped Georgia as she read the headline. ‘DEAD BODY FOUND IN CANYON COULD BE THAT OF MISSING BRIT TOURIST.’

  Thirteen

  As a businessman, Jacob Chevalier could be harder to manipulate than the back row of a rugby scrum and just as tough. He could be a softie for the right woman, and there had certainly been many of those over the years, but when it came to dealings inside the boardroom, Jacob came from the school of thought that equated ruthless and decisive with invincible. And he knew what worked. He had built his empire on a foundation of fear, respect and taking risks. If these risks occasionally caused a ripple of insecurity deep in his soul, this would definitely be hidden, fathoms beneath the surface. In his world, a crack of weakness could only grow and destroy.

  Men feared him, women adored him and he loved it that way. It gave him power. Strength. Like that of his heroes; Don King, Aristotle Onassis, Don Arden. Promotors, agents, billionaires, tycoons … men who succeeded in life. Players who could see what was good for them. Men who could spot the act to make the next million and see the opportunity to unite with someone who would be their perfect partner. And do everything it took to keep them on top. To Jacob, he and Nova were invincible. Even if at times she could drive him completely round the bend. If she merely worked for him then she would have been fired by now. End of. No questions. But when he met Nova, not only did he see someone who could snowball his bank account with six-figure zeroes TV appeal, but also someone who could work his heart to perfection. He fell in love. Sometimes even the hardest of shells could house the softest of centres.

  Fourteen

  Since his agent hadn’t rung him since his Untamed magazine shoot, Aaron was more than keen to take Devon and Tanya up on their offer of gardening work. He felt much more at home felling trees and planting foxgloves than he did getting his kit off and prancing around in tight shorts and boxing gloves at the magazine shoot.

  As he walked into the garden at their huge London home, Aaron couldn’t help but take a sharp intake of breath at the expanse of green that lay before his eyes. This was the gardening equivalent of winning an Oscar.

  ‘So you’ll take the job?’ questioned Devon as he, Aaron and Tanya walked around the garden.

  ‘Absolutely. You’ve got some seriously tasty trees here. Stuff’s a bit overgrown in places and there are flowers that need reviving or repositioning but I can have this place looking ship-shape in a matter of weeks. If you’re happy with my price, then I’m happy to start as soon as possible.’ Aaron beamed from underneath his beard.

  Devon looked at the quote again written on the sheet of paper held in his hands. ‘I have no issues paying this at all,’ he said. ‘It’s a case of when can you start? I want rid of anything overgrown as soon as possible. Some smart orderly flower beds and rows of trees would be perfect.’

  ‘You’ve got it. Do you have tools here? I can have mine sent up from Cornwall in the next couple of days but if you have some here right now then I could start straight away. The sun is out so I might as well make the most of it.’

  ‘They’re all lined up in the shed at the far end of the garden.’ Devon gestured towards a large outhouse in the distance. ‘There’s a tractor mower in there too and some overalls and gloves if you need to get changed. If you want to get washed up or use the bathroom there’s one in the studio alongside the main house. My first wife used to paint in there so it’s pretty much a self-contained unit. You can treat it as your own.’

  ‘Right then, I’ll get started,’ said Aaron.

  ‘Good,’ replied Devon. ‘And I’m sure Tanya can bring you some drinks, can’t you, Tanya? I’m sure you’ll soon work up a sweat in this weather. You’ll sort that, Tanya? I am sure you’ll enjoy it.’ It was more of an order than a question and laced with suggestion.

  ‘With pleasure. I’ll go and prepare something,’ she replied.

  Shaking Devon’s hand and sealing the deal, Aaron watched as the husband and wife walked back towards the house. Tanya looked good from behind too, her shapely ass filling her skinny leg jeans to perfection. Rolling up his sleeves and heading to the shed, Aaron knew that he was going to enjoy this job. Both the money and the view. Even if he did find Devon more than just a tad creepy.

  Devon walked into his study and sat himself down at his desk. He stared at the vibrant piece of artwork hanging on the far wall of his office. It was a delicious riot of colours. The opposite of how he lived his life. Slashes of paint fused together in a Jackson Pollock style. He stared at the name written in paint at the bottom right hand corner. Sophia Bellamy, his dear departed first wife. Six feet under but always present and alive through her paintings. She had been a true talent. So gifted in so many ways. A good and beautiful wife, a doting and caring mother. Sophia had brought so much to the family home.

  But then it had all gone wrong. All of that hadn’t been enough to keep her happy. Devon had not been able to keep her satisfied. As a husband he had failed. The order of things had been broken. Not as it should be. Something was out of place.

  That was when the demons had started inside his mind. The doubts, the insecurities, the worms of anger that seemed to spread some kind of plague within his body. Despite his best efforts to bring her back to where he wanted her in his heart, Devon could feel his wife slipping from him. No amount of expensive jewels or bottles of her favourite scent could guide her back into his arms. The something that was out of place was well and truly shattered. He returned home one day to find her wardrobe empty, her c
ar gone and a note on the dresser stating that she had decided to leave. Her reason – the love between them had died. The real reason – she had found love with another man.

  She wasn’t coming back, she never would. She couldn’t. Death was so final. And anyway, he had Tanya now.

  Devon felt his anger rise within his core. He stared at the painting. The slash of green, the colour of his jealousy. The slash of black, the colour of his soul. The slash of red, the colour of her betrayal. The colour of sin. The colour of blood.

  Fifteen

  ‘This is fucking good stuff, Andy. Where’s it from? It’s better than a lot of the shit we used to push back in the day. Some of that was like bags of washing powder.’ Placing the rolled twenty pound note to his nose, Jack Christie bent over the table and snorted the fat white line of powder. He felt the numbing of his teeth, the taste of it at the back of his throat and within a few minutes the sheer buzz of the coke within his system had taken hold.

  The Andy in question was Andy North, the man Jack had first hooked up with when he left his parents’ home and ran away to London at the age of seventeen. They’d met each other in a seedy dive of a bar in London’s East End. Jack, fresh off the train and already a petty criminal with convictions for breaking and entering, was keen to see what the capital could offer. With no more than a couple of hundred quid in his pocket, nicked from his mother’s emergency cash tin – like the silly bitch really didn’t think he’d seen her stashing cash away in her secret tin behind a row of recipe books in the family kitchen – Jack was ready to live a little. With an attitude of ‘never let your fear decide your future’, Jack headed straight into the roughest looking watering hole he could find, marched to the bar and ordered a pint. Under age? Bollocks to that.