“Of course,” Inns said and they parted.
Inns was pleased. He’d managed to convey that they were perhaps of more similar ilk than some of the others in this class, or even the school. By his accent, and even dress, Inns could tell that Paul was familiar with some of the old and respected institutions back in the UK, and he naturally expected a favourable disposition because of it. It was, after all, how the world worked. It might not do to mention it, but the old system was still strong, even if the liberals were trying to tear it down.
Chapter 4
It was mercifully cool inside the salon, but not so that anyone froze. The perfect temperature was a fine balance to keep some days. Dean approached as Cheryl stood by the floor to ceiling glass windows. “The courier still hasn’t arrived with the supplies. We’re running low on developer. Enough for the rest of the day, but if he doesn’t arrive, we might be in trouble late tomorrow.”
Cheryl winced. If there was one thing she would change around here it was the reliability of the couriers. More often than not, they didn’t come when they were supposed to, but this one was quite late now.
“If it’s not here by the start of business tomorrow, I’ll go buy some from the suppliers.” Going to purchase them at the local suppliers was much more expensive, and a last line of defence.
Dealing with uncertainty was just part of running a business here. It was a good idea to have ample stock for when things like this happened, but for some reason, they were caught short and Cheryl didn’t like being put in this position.
A silver Bentley pulled out from the driveway beside the shop, the man in the back only visible as a dark figure, but Cheryl knew full well who it was. Dominic Dunbury, the owner of the whole property and of the building the salon was located in. In fact, he had built their part of the complex just to house her salon. It had been an extraordinary concession when he’d taken over the site against her will. He didn’t have to provide this place for her, but he had, and in some ways, she now owed her business to his generosity.
Being in someone’s debt sat against the grain, even if he didn’t directly acknowledge the unusual move he had made to accommodate her.
“Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome leaving for the day?” Dean said with a raised eyebrow.
“Was it?” Cheryl lied. Dean was always probing about the relationship between her and Dominic. The truth was that there wasn’t one. There had, at one point, been a misplaced kiss, but they’d had very little to do with each other. In fact, running into him was downright awkward. He was not the chattiest man in the world and she didn’t know what to say to him. There were only so many times she could say thank you for his generosity, even as she didn’t want to acknowledge it, as technically, she was in the right. He had simply not completely screwed her over when it had been in his power, and benefit, to do so.
“I wonder where he’s off to?” Dean continued.
Cheryl shrugged. “Some business meeting or another.”
“Do you know he has a private jet?” Dean asked, turning as Cheryl walked back into the salon, intent on calling the courier company again.
“Does he?” Cheryl said, trying to sound completely uninterested. She was utterly uninterested. Dean didn’t perhaps understand that there was something in Dominic that didn’t entirely approve of her or the choices she made in life.
As for her life, it was going from strength to strength. She’d managed to resolve all legal issues with her shit of an ex-husband. Her sons were settled in their school and they were quite happy here in Marbella. Her bank balance was starting to look a little more healthy and they weren’t in threat of destitution if her car broke down. Things were good.
Saying that, her love life was a deserted town with tumble weeds bouncing through and crickets chirping in the stark silence. There had been a disastrous date with a guy who’d ended up being a complete arsehole and spent most of the date trying to attack her confidence. After that, she decided there would be no more dates. It was simply not the time or place to have a man in her life.
With a smile, Cheryl greeted her next customer as the woman walked through the door—a Mrs. Fuirhook, a wealthy woman with a regal bearing, carrying a little dog under her arm.
“Mrs. Fuirhook,” Cheryl said brightly, trying to pronounce it right with the European sounds she couldn’t quite get right. “And Poppy,” she said to the dog. “Should we get her some water?”
“That would be good,” the woman said in her clipped and nasal accent. Cheryl came around the counter and took the dog under her arm as she guided the woman to her chair.
Little dogs were also part of being in business, even when they made messes. The good people, like Mrs. Fuirhook, were actually embarrassed when they did—some didn’t care. Those people were part of the deal, as well.
Mrs. Fuirhook sat down and opened a magazine immediately. “How is all in the salon?”
“Good,” Cheryl said. “Not much changes around here other than fashion.”
The woman chuckled. “But things have been in development, I heard today. We have a movie star in our midst.”
“How is it we work in a hair salon, but you still hear these things before we do?” Cheryl said with a smile.
“One must keep one’s ear to the ground. Handsome man, too.”
“That sounds exciting.”
“Not as exciting as when you hear who it is. Roan Hancock.”
Dean gasped in disbelief right behind her. “No,” he said with exaggerated breathiness. “He’s here?”
“Arrived a couple of days ago, I hear. And no immediate plans to leave, I am told.”
“No,” Dean said disbelievingly again. “We’ll have to keep our eyes out for him. I’m so excited. He must be taking a break. More movie stars should come here for their breaks. I think we should make that a policy.”
Mrs. Fuirhook smiled. Cheryl knew who they were talking about, a handsome man with dark blond hair and a chiselled jaw. His green eyes had graced the screen in quite a few movies lately. But beyond passing curiosity, this news was of absolutely no importance.
Chapter 5
The water was sparkling off the dark blue tiled pool of the boutique hotel up in the hills as Cheyenne sat down on the chrome and weave sun lounger, holding the cup of fruit she was having for breakfast. Roan was inside, picking from the breakfast buffet laid out in the small but tasteful restaurant.
It was a bit eerie with the quiet of the hotel. A server was seen coming and going, and there was the man at the reception, but there seemed to be no one else around. Which wasn’t perhaps surprising as they had booked out the whole hotel.
Leaning back, she soaked up the sun and sighed. She’d missed Marbella. In LA, the sun was different; the air was different, and she never quite felt at home. It was definitely good to be back. The modelling work had been good in LA, perhaps because she was a novelty with the LA arm of the agency, so she’d had as much work as she’d wanted.
The problem was, she wasn’t interested in working anymore. There was no joy in it. Their pandering was something she expected now, and it fed nothing in her anymore. She also didn’t need to work as her divorce from Baron Vennhagen left her well provided for. With money in the bank, getting tugged and pulled at a photoshoot had lost its appeal. It had been some time since she’d been some starry-eyed youth, overly excited about the fact that someone thought she was pretty enough to take photos of. She didn’t need the validation anymore.
There were more important things to focus on and Marbella was the nut she still hadn’t been able to crack. It had chewed her up and spit her out more than once now, but she clearly wasn’t giving up.
What it was about Marbella that made her so intent that this was where she needed to succeed, she didn’t quite know. Partially because the bitches here worked so hard to deny her, but also because of the unique melting pot that Marbella was.
But it kicked her in the teeth and she left bleeding. At no time hadn’t she considered coming back;
she just needed to be stronger, and now, she had true star quality on her arm—Roan Hancock—as big as they got. He was the best in the world, universally adored—gorgeous, talented and hot.
None of the bitches here could pull someone like Roan. They didn’t have what it took and it really was about time that they understood that. But the mediocre had the ability to unite and form a comprehensive wall, she had learnt. Tall Poppy Syndrome they called it. When the mediocre got together in spite and jealousy to behead the one that surpassed them all.
It was something new to Cheyenne. In the modelling world, uniqueness and excellence were celebrated. It wasn’t a world for mediocrity, but things had been different here. They had resented her success and did everything in their power to tear it down. She was both wiser and more armed this time.
With a smile, she looked over as Roan took a seat at the lounger next to her, wearing the fluffy white hotel robe. As the hotel was theirs, there was no reason to be modest. They could walk around naked and the discreet and understanding staff wouldn’t bat an eyelid.
Roan had a cup of coffee in his hand. “It’s nice here,” he said, stretching out his long, powerful legs. There was something about his look that was a bit cheeky. He had a twinkle in his eye that made everyone think he was conspiring with them when he spoke.
He really was adorable, but he was also in a bit of a state. Clearly, he was an unquestionable success, but for anyone who’d been trying to succeed, there was a point where they needed to stop pushing, and he was at that point. Not everyone knew what to do, how to shift into a mode that was sustainable, instead of burning the candle at both ends.
In a way, he didn’t quite see this was what he needed. He felt it more than saw it, whereas she saw it clear as day. No one actually taught you how to be successful. Everyone had to find their own way through the pitfalls—flounder, in some cases.
“What do you want to do today?” she asked.
Roan shrugged, a sign he didn’t really know what to do with himself. “I think I need to work out at some point. There’s a gym here?”
“Eh,” she said. “I think you’re better off at the Athletic Club. It’s the best gym in town.”
Roan looked uncertain.
“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “The people at the Athletic Club aren’t the kind to rush over with autograph requests. This isn’t that kind of town.” In other words, it wasn’t LA where people seemed to feel they had a God-given right to the attention of people who were famous. Fame and fortune were bog standard around here and no one batted an eyelid. They might watch discreetly and gossip like hell, but they would never approach. That’s why the rich and famous loved Marbella. It was a place for them.
But Roan needed to be eased into the slower pace here. When used to going a thousand miles a minute, it took some time to slow down and decompress. That was a big word in LA: decompressing. People went places specifically for that purpose, as if their lives otherwise had no reasonable way of balancing.
“I think we should do some lunch. There’s a lovely place I know. Very discreet.” He would also be very nervous until he discovered that he wasn’t going to get bowled by a stampede of fans. “Then maybe come back here and chill for the afternoon. There seemed to be all sorts of sports on the TV.”
“European sports,” he stated.
“I’m sure if you talk to the concierge, he can sort any type of sport you should require. It’s amazing what those little men can achieve.”
Leaning back, Cheyenne closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her. Technically, she shouldn’t be lounging in the sun like this, but there were professionals who could undo whatever challenge the sun posed to her skin. There was something quite special about a real tan.
In fact, doing a bit of decompressing after LA would probably do her a bit of good, too.
Chapter 6
Dominic was working on a takeover. It wasn’t a big one, just a small Latin-American company which provided organic black quinoa. The market for specialty foods was broadening every year and this company was the best at this particular commodity. It always paid off working with the best, he had found. Quality really does pay for itself, but they also typically had driven and almost fanatical founders, who invested in their quality because they believed in the product, as opposed to the financial gain.
This takeover had meant spending a large portion of time in Latin America in order to convince the founder that Dominic wasn’t about to strip their company, ruin their vision and strip out all the cash he could. Getting that message across meant he had to front up and show himself. Not that he strictly minded.
There was little else going on in his life just at the moment. The company was doing well. There was nothing to focus on but growing. The kids were settled, and there had been times when he hadn’t expected that would happen. Felix was wrapped up in his girlfriend, Shania, and they were getting on with things. Their relationship had meant a bit of reorganising to stop Felix from quitting the company.
Dominic had, at first, been suspicious of Felix’s profession to quit for Shania, with him wondering if this was some lame attempt for Felix to go back to his more idle ways. Dominic hadn’t exactly understood the seriousness of their relationship and that Felix was quitting so as to not have conflict with his girlfriend. He was putting the relationship first, and that did quietly impress Dominic.
Maybe it was time to schedule a dinner with the family. They didn’t come around unless he specifically told them to. But Felix and Shania were probably still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship where other people didn’t matter. And so far, Felix hadn’t managed to make a total hash of it. Felix, who mostly hadn’t succeeded at anything other than being a drunk, arrogant wastrel, was dead serious about this relationship—probably because he’d found someone who could actually tolerate him.
And then Esme was enrolled in the business school and had started classes. Again, an outcome much better than he expected. Now if only she would stick with it. There might still be a few wobbles with her before she settled into adulthood, Dominic expected. Hopefully nothing too bad. In a way, Esme was more of a worry when she was going off the rails than Felix because she hid it well, whereas Felix was incapable of hiding anything he was feeling.
No, there was really nothing in his life that particularly needed attention, so he didn’t mind the frequent trips to Latin America. When the deal was over, that might stop, but then he’d seen some other interesting companies he might look into. There may well be more travel in his near future.
His phone rang and he looked over at the silver device on his desk, seeing a number he hadn’t expected. Bianca Solstice. There was a name he hadn’t associated with in quite some time, a name firmly linked with his ex-wife, Sophie. In fact, they might even have considered themselves close friends at one time. Was there something wrong with Sophie?
“Bianca,” he said as he picked up the phone. “Long time. Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” her sultry voice said. “It’s been ages. How are you?” Obviously nothing urgent if she was making small talk and enquiring about him.
“Good,” he said and then quietly sighed because a simple answer was probably not going to be enough. “Everything is well. Business is good. Kids are good.”
“I hear things have settled down for you. I was sorry to hear about all that messy business.”
She meant the prison sentence and all that crap involved with a rather unfair slap on the hand from the people in power in London. It had been a good part of the reason why he had moved the entire corporation to Marbella, a move that was still seen with shock and astounded scepticism back in England. Well, the world had moved on. One didn’t have to be in London to run a business anymore. And as for the Spanish being difficult, he had actually found them willing to bend over backwards to accommodate him. Then again, a hospital wing here and there helped these things along.
“Just skirmishes in the past. How can I help you?” he asked, wan
ting this conversation to move along. Small talk wasn’t something he excelled at and Bianca was much too clever to mess with. Bianca really did leave Sophie in the dust in that regard, and from what he understood, that had actually happened figuratively at one point, and their relationship had never really recovered from it. But then, it wasn’t as if he was in the loop; they could have rekindled their relationship for all he knew.
“I’m going to be in town and it would be lovely to see you,” she said.
“Of course. If I’m around.”
“You work much too hard,” she chided. “It will be lovely to see you. It’s been too long, Dom. And then I will have to report back to Sophie how well you look.”
Dominic smiled. There was always a bitchy side to Bianca that he had at times enjoyed. She never held back with her opinions, particularly if on a topic what was close to someone. Too smooth to be a tornado, leaving destruction in her path, no, instead, she struck with surgical precision, and her statement showed she was not above having a go at Sophie. Well, he wouldn’t be an ex-husband if he didn’t enjoy some gloating about doing well. Sophie had, after all, dumped him when the chips were down, at his lowest point. A little swipe from Bianca was probably what she deserved. And if he could personally stay well clear of anything like that, the happier he would be.
“It would be lovely to see you. Send the details of when you are coming to my PA and she will schedule it in.”
“Alright, see you then, Dom,” she said brightly and hung up.
Slowly, he placed the phone down, unsure it was a good idea to re-establish an acquaintance with Bianca. In truth, he wasn’t particularly interested in any gossip from their old set. His wife had inherited their friends and Dominic was happy to consider them all dead in his social book. But now Bianca was reaching out, and he would feel rude and a bit of a brute cutting her off.
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