“Well, if we don’t quit daydreaming, we’ll miss the plane and possibly the boat. Get a move on it.” He gave me a nudge with his toe. Looking at the clock, I put my cup and plate back on the tray and dashed for the shower.
As soon as we arrived at the airport, we checked in and then headed toward the departure gate. Liam browsed at a newsstand while I went in search of the restrooms.
I found him looking out the window at the tarmac. A sleek Learjet with its nose pointed in the opposite direction gleamed in the sunshine. “Nice plane!”
“Yes, it is. I would imagine Ted has one of those, as well.”
“Do you have plane envy?” I teased.
“Not at all. We all know it isn’t the size, but how you use it. My plane is bound for the south of France, soon to be full of people filled with joie de vivre. His plane is parked in a hangar, empty and useless.”
Laughing at his innuendo, I tugged him away from the window. “Let’s go find out if they’re loading your plane yet.”
We didn’t have long to wait before we boarded our flight from London to the Marseille Provence Airport. Caught up in my excitement, and diverted by Liam, the four hour flight felt as though no sooner had his plane ascended than the pilot announced our descent. We surveyed the brilliant blue sea and colorful stucco buildings that were scattered down the blue-green hills, forming a boundary between sea and land. The sight was spectacular.
A few rows back, a little boy yelled, “Wow, look at that boat.” Peering out the window, it wasn’t hard to figure out which boat he was referring to. A sleek, white yacht with a red stripe dominated the harbor below; next to it, the smaller, more colorful boats bobbed like fishing lures in the water.
Finally, with luggage in hand, we stepped out into the heat and bright sunshine of southern France. In front of the airport, Liam asked, “Now what?”
“Tiziana sent an email saying a driver would meet us here, so look for someone looking for us.”
After a moment or two, a voice thick with French sophistication said, “Mademoiselle Young?”
“Yes. I mean, oui,” I replied with much less elegance. Choosing to ignore Liam’s chuckle, I said more assertively, “Yes, I’m Miss Young.”
“How delightful. My name is Maurice Girard. I’m Monsieur Blackwell’s driver. I’m to drive you to the airport, where the helicopter will take you to Saint-Tropez.”
While Liam and I processed what Monsieur Girard had just said, a flurry of French was directed at two teenaged boys, and our bags were stowed into the back of a shiny black limousine.
I said “Merci” when Maurice opened the door for Liam and me. We scooched in and were immediately enveloped in the luxury of wealth.
“Not my style, but it’ll do. So, do you have any idea what’s happening?” Liam asked with a confused smile.
“No! When I told Tiziana the flight plans, she said she would sort everything out. Honestly, all I did was Google the closest airport to Saint-Tropez. I was so busy, I didn’t think beyond that. I don’t even know how far away it is. I just thought we would get a map at the car rental. Oh no! I have a car rented. I’ll have to call and cancel.” I dug through my purse to find my phone.
He gave me a quick kiss while I dialed. “Well, you know what they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans.” Stretching his legs out in front of him, he poured us each a glass of prosecco and then proceeded to twiddle with all the buttons and knobs. I silently toasted Tiziana, thanking her for treating us to one of this year’s best proseccos, Bisol.
When I got off the phone, I drained my glass and began to wonder how smart this trip was. Not much planning had gone into it, and a whole lot of trouble could come of it.
Liam refilled my glass. “Don’t worry. One snafu. Who knew we’d need a helicopter and not a rental car?”
“Tiziana!” I replied without hesitation.
“Maybe she thought you would enjoy a helicopter ride.”
“Who knows? This feels so weird! If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be in a limo on my way to hitch a ride on a helicopter to board a yacht in Saint-Tropez with the most incredible Irishman, I would have thought that they or I was on drugs.”
***
Just over an hour later, we touched ground once again. “God! I never want to ride one of these things again.” My voice was wobbly, and the stress and alcohol hadn’t agreed with me so I’d been queasy every windswept moment of the flight.
“It’s all over now! Just a short drive to the harbor.”
Walking across the tarmac, still escorted by the limousine driver Monsieur Girard, Liam said in a startled voice, “Would you look at that?”
“What?”
“There!” He pointed to what appeared to be the same Learjet we had seen at Stansted Airport, rolling to a stop off in the distance.
“Plane envy? Darling, not only is your plane bigger, it’s faster!”
“Well, not too fast, I hope!” Liam glanced at me with a sexy smolder.
I was feeling quite overwhelmed. Between nerves at seeing Des, helicopters, and leaving a mountain of work behind, I was more than happy to sit quietly while Monsieur Girard made his way through the maze of one-way streets and arrived at Port de Saint-Tropez. There, an enormous, sleek white yacht with a blue stripe floated, bobbing beautifully on the sea. The yacht we’d seen in Marseille was miniscule in comparison.
The moment the car stopped, my door was whipped open, and I was in Tiziana’s arms. I took in the deep-throated giggle, the scent of sunscreen, and perfume.
“Come on, bella, get out. We’ve been waiting all day for you to arrive. We’re all so excited.” She hauled me out of the car.
While welcoming me with a hug and a kiss, Ted said, “My god, she’s been like a little girl all morning. Just staring out the window, waiting for her friend to come play.”
Ted went to give Monsieur Girard a hand with the luggage while Tiziana gave Liam a dose of her Italian exuberance.
There was only a moment to digest the scene. My weariness melted as my heart filled with joy that these people were a part of my life. In all my dreams, I could never have imagined anything as rich as the colors, smells, and sounds of that moment.
But then, with a horrible screech—the kind that you get if you drag your nails across a chalkboard—the scene turned sour.
Another limo pulled up beside ours and out stepped a long, shapely leg, followed by the curvaceous body and beautiful face of Gemma Newley, Des Bannerman’s longtime friend and one-time lover, according to the tabloids.
Ted quickly went over to greet her. Casting me an apologetic look, Tiziana joined him and exchanged air-kisses with her. I felt no surprise when Des Bannerman emerged a moment later. Feeling Liam’s warmth beside me, I realized how cold I had become.
“This just keeps getting more and more surreal!” he said.
“It certainly does,” I replied.
Not knowing what else to do, I stood frozen in place. Tiziana rushed back over to us with a big smile painted on her face and quietly said, “Bella, take that terrible look off your face. Everything is fine. I promised you that Ted would handle things. Liam, let’s take Charlotte to the boat.”
“What happened to Brynn Roberts?” I asked, too curious for my own good.
Tiziana smiled and pointed at something in the distance. “Last minute cancellation!”
My smile became genuine. Brynn would have made my life hell. After a few steps, I felt the butterflies settle and my heart slow down. I swallowed a deep breath and threw my shoulders back. Looking Liam in the eyes, I announced, “What the fuck! Let’s do what we came here for.”
He sniggered and patted my bum with a grin. “Exactly! Don’t let that bastard get to you. Remember, you came here to get answers and make him regret being such an arse.” Tiziana diplomatically didn’t join in and let herself be diverted by the decadent surroundings.
The pep talk did the trick. Deciding to initiate the first move, I slowed us all to a stop and turned
to wait for the others to catch up with us. When they did, Tiziana re-introduced Liam to Des, and both of us to Gemma. She’d skillfully overlooked any connection between Des and me.
Gemma, with a sly grin, said, “Charlotte, I believe you’ve met Des.”
“Yes, I have.” Instead of shaking Des’s hand or kicking him in the balls, I coolly returned my attention to Tiziana and Ted, saying, “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
With that, our entourage paraded toward the yacht. A passel of men with suitcases and a gaggle of paparazzi brought up the rear. Many gawkers watched us as we passed.
With a toss of his head toward Ted and Des, Liam whispered to us, “I bet they’re wondering who the hell those other people are.” Tiziana and I laughed until we cried. I squeezed Liam’s hand, needing to say thank you, knowing that I wouldn’t make it without him.
On board, the crew took the suitcases to our cabins, and Ted directed us to the outside bar at the back of the boat.
“We’ll be pulling out in just a few minutes, once the crew has us settled,” he said over his shoulder as he opened a bottle of Silvano Follador prosecco. I barely registered the dry, crisp Italian wine as it slid over my tongue.
I was still absorbing the fact that I was politely sipping prosecco less than twenty feet from the man from whom I wanted retribution. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a virtual cattle stampede and barely managed to pass my glass to Liam before being assaulted by Hillary, Marian, and Kathleen.
Tiziana joined in, and we danced around and hugged and talked all at once. The hugging and dancing moved in Liam’s direction, and he was quickly absorbed into the mass, giving himself over to their enthusiasm—another reason why I loved the man.
I overheard Ted explaining the connection between the five of us to Gemma and Des, while Tiziana talked a mile a minute about all her plans. Quickly, I glanced in Des’s direction. Much to my surprise, he was looking at us with what could only be described as kindness. A moment later, he looked away and replied to a comment Gemma had made.
The rest of the day was a complete indulgence. First, Liam and I disappeared down to our cabin and changed into bathing suits.
Once back on deck, we found Des putting up with questions from Marian and Kathleen. When Marian produced a camera, I heard Des deadpan, “I’ll let you have your picture. But if it makes it to the tabloids, I’ve had it. My career will be in ruins. I haven’t seen the inside of a gym in, well… months! What do you think, Gemma? Dare I risk it?”
While Gemma reassured him that he looked fine, she gave him a final once-over before adding, “Mind you, next to Hugh Grant, you look positively flabby!” She roared with laughter.
“Bitch! He’s never seen the inside of the gym, I’m sure. I should know better than to ask for support from you, you bloody cow! I’m going to leak to the media that you’ve had a breast lift, a tummy tuck, and one of those new facelifts. Maybe I’ll add a bum lift and liposuction, as well!” Their banter continued for a few minutes as Marian and Kathleen laughed along with them.
After the laughter died down, Gemma declared, “I’ve had enough of this abuse. I’m going to converse with more civilized people.” She picked her glass up and wandered toward us. Liam and I sat with Hillary, Tiziana, and Ted.
I stared at her from behind my sunglasses and quietly said to Liam, “Her legs are as long as I am tall!”
“I can measure, if you like,” he happily offered.
“Get near her legs and you’re going overboard,” I said with a smile as she drew near.
She joined us as we lounged in the sun and managed to engage Hillary in conversation, who, until that moment, had remained her usual aloof self. Gemma and Hillary found they had various social and charity activities in common. From listening to their conversation, it was clear that they had been in the same circles for quite some time but had never met.
“And what about you, Liam? What line of work are you in?” Gemma asked. I listened to the two of them talk for a bit, but, between the sun and the sparkling wine, the conversation became a comfortable buzz in the background. My thoughts turned to Des and what I should make of the current situation. I was fantasizing about him admitting to being an ego-maniacal horse’s ass when I became aware that the conversation was directed at me.
“Charlotte! Lost in thought?” Hillary prompted me.
“Oh, sorry, I was just daydreaming. What did I miss?”
“Gemma was wondering what you made of the media circus over the holidays,” Liam responded, a hint of concern in his voice.
I quickly dashed a look at Des, thankful to see him firmly engaged in a conversation with Marian and Kathleen.
“Oh, don’t worry! He’s really quite reasonable!” Gemma said, observing my glance.
“Well, reasonable I wouldn’t know about. As for the media circus, there’s nothing in the world that would induce me to go through that again. It was awful. All the innuendo and lies.”
“Well, I think you handled it remarkably well. From what I’ve heard, it was all a misunderstanding,” Gemma replied, as she shot Ted and Tiziana a quick glance.
Realizing the second group was coming over to join us in the sun, I hoped she would drop the subject. Fortunately, Tiziana was a formidable opponent in the attention-seeking department.
“Darlings, we need to decide what we’d like to do for dinner. The chef is prepared to make us a lovely meal, or, if you prefer, we can find some delightful place in Saint-Tropez!”
My brain was so busy thinking about Gemma’s comment that I let the others decide what we would do.
Tiziana announced, “I’ll tell Monsieur Lambert that we’ll be in the dining room at 9:00. That should give us enough time to pamper ourselves and have a cocktail on the upper deck. The sunset is spectacular from up there.”
I decided to retreat to a quiet place to think. “I’ll see you all in a while. I’m going to go have a dip in the tub.” I tied an aqua blue sarong around my hips and picked up my bag.
Before leaving, I gently squeezed Liam’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile.
Tiziana said, “Charlotte, I’ll walk with you.
After stepping through the heavy double doors, we entered the coolness of the yacht’s interior. She started to talk as soon as they shut, her voice conveying her anxiety. “Bella, are you all right? Don’t worry, everything is going well. Everyone seems to be having a lovely time.”
Walking down the marble spiral staircase that was awash in the pure light of the Mediterranean coast, I answered honestly, “I’m assuming Ted has talked to him, and that a truce has been called since we are onboard?” Tiziana nodded. “He hasn’t said a word to me. I need to think about what I would say if he did.”
At this point, we were walking down a wood-paneled corridor to the guest cabins. We stopped in front mine.
“Yes, well, let’s hope it goes smoothly.” Her voice was anxious.
“Tiziana, it’s okay! No one wants to ruin your special party. We’re here to celebrate your beautiful life and lovely wedding.” I felt guiltier by the minute; my being there might cause regret. I knew she had to return to her guest. “Listen, the strangest thing happened. Gemma was talking to me about what happened in Chamonix. She said she’d heard it was all a misunderstanding. Do you know what she means?”
Another flitter of concern wrinkled what had been her smooth brow. She shook her head no. “Perhaps Ted talked to her. He knows Gemma from long before, when she and Des were dating. I can ask him.”
“No, don’t! Like I said, it’s all okay.”
With her usual enthusiasm, Tiziana threw her arms around me and kissed my check. “Thank you, bella. I’d better go speak to the chef. Put on something colorful and sexy. We want to dazzle them tonight!”
I vowed to positively sizzle.
“Ciao!” She released my arm and floated in the direction of what must have been the ship’s kitchen.
Entering my room, I threw my bag on a chair upholstered
in a brightly colored fabric. I crossed the room and lay down on the bed. My brain raced, wondering what Gemma Newley knew. While lying there thinking, the day’s heat and excitement took hold, and I fell asleep trying to decide how I was going to find out.
I woke with a start when Liam gently nudged me out of a deep sleep. I quickly noted he had a bath towel wrapped around his hips. He leaned over and gave me a gentle kiss while I inhaled the smell of soap and cologne.
“Hello, Sleeping Beauty!” he said, smiling down at me.
“Mmm, that makes you my prince,” I said in a sleepy whisper.
I looked around the room, taking in my semi-naked boyfriend and then the clock. I sighed, “I’d better get a move on it. I promised Tiziana I would sizzle tonight.”
“You always sizzle!” He pulled me to my feet and snaked his arms around me, wearing only a delicious grin on his face, the towel having fallen to the floor. I let myself be distracted for a few minutes. It was only when I felt my knees buckle that I returned to the present.
I gently pushed Liam away and headed to the bathroom. He teased me about a wasted stiffy while I twizzled the water taps of the shower.
Warm water ran over my head and down my body. I was on autopilot when a soapy hand began to lather me. Suds and bubbles trailed over my breasts and across my belly, then dripped to the juncture of my legs, where I felt a warm flutter ignite. I moaned my appreciation and leaned back against him.
He slid his hands upwards. “Just to help you sizzle.”
“God, you’re good.” I whimpered.
Impossibly, less than an hour later, I was showered, fluffed, and dressed in a snug-fitting midnight blue off-the-shoulder dress. My feet were adorned with strappy silver sandals. I’d spent a lot of time getting my hair piled on top of my head, a few curls cascading down.
Just as Liam and I joined the group, I said quietly in his ear, “I don’t have any underwear on.”
His hand trailed down my backside and he slapped my bum.
“Who’s sizzling now?” I asked over my shoulder into his green, smoldering eyes.
Just then, Ted said, “Charlotte, you look like Aphrodite.” I took a cosmopolitan from him and accepted a kiss on the cheek.
Prosecco & Paparazzi (The Passport Series Book 1) Page 24