Walking across the road, she bought herself a croissant and walked along until she reached what was essentially a little park. It had an old, metal swing set which now looked out of place for the area. This was no longer a residential area, more geared towards commercial, but the old park still hung on there.
It made her think of her boys. They loved it here in Marbella—loved their school. Friends had been made and they often spent time at friends’ houses after school or during the weekend. They were growing up and she was seeing less and less of them. They didn’t need her now like they used to, unless they were hungry or sick. Thinking of them made her smile.
The sun was warming and she sat on a bench and soaked it in. Her life here was starting to surpass her hopes. The salon was going well. Her problems with her troublesome and handsome landlord had worked themselves out. In truth, he wasn’t a bad landlord. Any problems she had, she called a woman called Fennie, who was apparently Dominic’s PA, and they got sorted right away. There wasn’t anything Fennie seemed incapable of fixing with minimal effort. Cheryl admired that about the woman, although they had never met in person, even as she worked mere metres away. Fennie was not a customer of the salon.
Felix worked there, however. She’d seen him driving in and out of the garage in the mornings and evenings. He never said hello, but he did seem to note her and sometimes gave a quick nod. A curious young guy. She’d picked up that he and his father sometimes had a strained relationship.
Dominic unfolded in her mind as he sometimes did, that strange, handsome man who was so very elusive. She could never quite place what was going on with him. When he’d wanted something from her, he’d been formidable, but that time had passed. Things had settled and they had gone back to being strangers, who had once known each other in passing.
Throwing the napkin in the garbage, she rose and made her way back. With a lull in their schedule, it might be a good time to chase some of the suppliers. With brisk steps, she walked back and towards the row of shops opposite the salon.
A person was in her way as she walked around the corner and she stopped short. Dark hair, suit, emanating presence. It was him.
Really, speak of the devil and he appeared. “Dominic,” she said with surprise. She hadn’t expected bumping into him here. He only ever left the building in his car. The only time she’d seen him down here was if he came to see her. “Are you looking for me?”
“Yes,” he said, not looking her directly in the eye, almost as if he was ever so slightly looking past her. Instinctively, she turned to see if anyone was approaching from behind her, but there was no one there. It had actually been a while now since she’d spoken to him at all and it was a big strange having him there in the flesh. “We have been told that the council is doing some work on the water main here on Monday.”
“Oh,” she said. No water, no work. They had to rearrange their clients, maybe do some house calls if absolutely necessary. Some women had events to go to. This would all actually be a huge pain in the arse. “I suppose if they must, they must. Fennie usually calls me if something is up.”
“Fennie is sick,” Dominic said.
“I am sorry to hear that. I hope nothing serious.”
“Just the flu.”
The conversation felt awkward and stilted as if he didn’t want to be there. And now the message had been delivered and it felt even more uncomfortable.
“Well, thank you for letting me know. Water is essential to a salon, as you can surely guess. The notice will give me some time to plan. Thank you.”
There was silence for a moment. Why had they always been so awkward around each other? Well, there had been that one date and the kiss she so vividly remembered—before he had apologised and said quite clearly that he hadn’t known what he’d been thinking.
Cheryl felt a blush crawl up her cheeks with the memory.
“I hope all else is well,” he finally said, “with the salon and the boys.”
“The boys are growing, eating me out of house and home,” she smiled. “The salon is going good, too. I’ve got a good base of customers, and we are fortunate enough that they keep returning.”
“Must be keeping them happy, then.”
She didn’t know if that was a note of surprise in his voice or some kind of accusation. Had he expected her not to do well? Or was it just a throw away comment resulting from an awkward meeting.
“We are having an event for the staff next week, you and your people should come. It’s being held down by the beach. We’re too large for a restaurant to accommodate us, so it had to be more of an al fresco event.”
“We’re not really affiliated with Dunbury Industries,” she said, thinking it would be strange having them there. It was an unusual proposition.
“Tenant cordiality and such things. I am sure people will appreciate having your team there. They are quite personable from what I recall. It is a social event more than a business one, so I am sure your people won’t be bored. A few more won’t hurt.”
“We’d be honoured,” Cheryl said.
“Good. Well, Fennie will send you the details when she is back.”
A moment more and he turned sharply and walked away without looking back, crossing the road back to their compound. Cheryl watched him go. He moved smoothly and his presence seemed to slow the traffic down around him.
He’d come to find her. She didn’t know what to make of that when he had a hundred people to send. And then the invitation, which she was pretty certain was a spur of the moment thing.
With an exhale, she tried to dismiss the confusion she felt and made her way back to the salon.
“Was that Dominic Dunbury I saw?” Dean asked teasingly. With his eagle eye for gossip, nothing got past him. “Still just as handsome, then?”
Cheryl dismissed the comment. “The water is being shut off on Monday.”
“Crap,” Dean said.
“We’ll have to reschedule as much as we can. Unfortunately we might have to open late for a few days.”
“Annoying,” Dean sang.
“Oh, and we are also invited to some Dunbury Industry event down by the beach in a week or so.”
“Oh, really? Are we invited to their events now? How strange? Dominic Dunbury climbed down from his ivory tower and invited you to a party?”
“Us. He is inviting all of us.”
“I’m sure he did,” Dean said under his breath. Cheryl ignored the statement. Dean was always teasing her about Dominic and she always dismissed his accusations. There was nothing going on between them, but yes, the fact that he’d built her a salon on his property was perhaps suspicious to some—a gesture she felt best ignoring as just Dominic’s unique version of manners.
Chapter 11
The view was spectacular at the restaurant down in Porto Banus where Dominic had agreed to meet Bianca. She’d called the previous day saying she was in town and that they could lunch together. In a way, he wasn’t looking forward to it. Bianca was a face from the past, from his youth even—the time when there had been a group of them who spent their time together—like all youth do. Dominic wasn’t particularly nostalgic about the past. It wasn’t as if there were any particular injuries there, but what was the point of hashing over the past?
Bianca appeared, wearing white jeans and a turquoise top made of some material that seemed to float around her. She looked great, her makeup expertly applied and her dark hair long and glossy. Age had not diminished her. It actually made her look better. The retreating of her puppy fat made her cheeks perfectly curved around high cheekbones.
“Dominic,” she said and he rose to kiss her. “You look fantastic.”
“Thank you,” he said and took his seat. It was unusual that he have a social meeting. All of his life, besides the odd family dinner, had been dedicated to business, of late—perhaps too much. “As always, you look stunning. The years have been kind.”
“Money has been kind,” she said with a wink.
He was pl
eased that she’d been honest about having some work done. Honesty about such things showed character, and Bianca had always had character.
Whatever work she’d had gotten had been done expertly. She looked fresh and flawless, her lips pink and glossy and her cheeks rosy. Clear, green eyes sparkled at him. “It is good to see you, good to be out of London for a while. Such an incestuous lot, really.”
“And how is Sophie?” he asked, ensuring he sounded casual. It was rude not to enquire from one of Sophie’s friends—if they were friends. It was hard to tell between the two of them.
“She is fine. Taking to country pursuits with a gusto. Quite ridiculous, if you ask me. The only thing worth doing with gusto is sex.”
Bianca had always hammered people slightly with her forwardness, particularly if they were a little on the conservative edge. And sex, well, she did excel at that. There had been a time before he’d married when they’d had a dalliance.
“How is Max?” Dominic asked.
“He is investing in a Porsche in some vain attempt to appeal to the young girls. Marred in a midlife crisis. It’s been both embarrassing and mortifying to watch. So, I thought it was time to part ways.”
“And here you are. Are you thinking of staying?”
“I’ve always liked Marbella,” Bianca said, looking out across the view. “A perfect place to start over, I’ve always thought, and that is what I’m doing. As with you, the kids are getting on and I find my responsibilities falling away. Time to play, I say.” She smiled with a raised eyebrow.
If Bianca wanted to play, this was perhaps a good place for her to be. No doubt, the divorce settlement she was getting was substantial. London courts were always generous to the wives. Bianca would have the means to do anything she wanted.
“Thought I’d look at some places in the coming week,” she continued. “I find I like the modern architecture around these parts.”
“There should be some choice on the market for you.”
“But I want to hear about you. Gorgeous man, free of your own commitments. It must be a lovely feeling.”
“Dunbury Industries is a demanding mistress.”
Bianca gave her a chiding look. “You are much too willing to bury yourself in work, Dominic. I’m sure the ladies are beside themselves to have you single again.”
In truth, he’d accepted precious few invitations to anything lately, unless he absolutely had to. Perhaps he had become a little too caught up with work. Then again, he’d needed a period of reason and calm. Women, he found, tended to bring chaos into his life—a part he had no real control over.
Bianca ordered a salad and some expensive sparkling water. She did look good, an unsurpassed beauty in their group. She studied him back and memories of past times returned, when they’d been young and drunk. Then she smiled. “It really is good to see you, Dom. You’ve been ignoring us for far too long.”
“Things have been complicated.”
“Well, we seem to be in that time of life when complications crop up. How are the kids? Sophie worries about them.”
Not enough to actually spend any time with them, unless they came to her. “Good. They are doing well.”
“Sam is modelling in New York,” Bianca said with pride.
“That’s great,” Dominic said, although he’d always seen modelling as a flaky and unsuitable profession, but he also understood it was a badge of honour for some. Bianca had dabbled a little in her youth, but had soon tired of it. There was a trade-off between jetting around the world being a model and missing out on the antics your gang got up to. Bianca’s social life had won over endless, impersonal hotel rooms and drafty studios.
“You’ll have to take a little time out of your schedule to show me around, of course.”
Thoughts of endless parties flashed through his mind. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather not do, but he admitted he had become a little isolated of late, maybe even staid. “I would be honoured to make the introductions to the society around here.”
“An interesting bunch, I hear, including various misfits. I love interesting people.”
“You always have,” he said, remembering some of the people Bianca used to drag into the group—artistic types and musicians. She’d liked exploring around, but in the end, she’d settled down with sturdy, rich Maximillian Solstice, an investment banker from a family of investment bankers. For Bianca, it had been fine to explore, but when it came to settling down, she wanted a life of luxury—even if she had to put up with a prick like Max.
“It is quite something to be free, isn’t it?” she said with a contented sigh, as if she’d been reading his thoughts.
“Yes,” Dominic had to agree. There was something very refreshing about not having to cater to Sophie’s needs, especially as she had increasingly become more distant and bitter. The carefree girl he’d met all those years ago, had slowly been replaced by someone else, someone who took her duties seriously. Life had become more and more about things that had to be done, including the parties and entertainment, which took on a quality of duty over anything fun.
Chapter 12
The car pulled up into the covered driveway, where Cheyenne got out and readjusted the skirt which had ridden a little too high. She looked sharp, a dress few people could pull off—straight off the runway. You had to have a certain type of body to make this dress look good, but when it did, it shone.
Roan joined her, looking smart in a Versace suit. It skimmed nicely over his muscles and he looked clean and tidy. Hair neat and smooth. There was a quality about him that said star, like the stars of a different era used to have. He had that—turned heads when he walked into the room.
“You look great,” she said. “In fact, I might have to show you later how much I appreciate how good you look tonight.”
“Any appreciation is, of course, very welcome,” he said with a smile that looked like sex.
Sometimes Cheyenne had to wonder how much he actually manipulated her. Mostly, he came across as a dumb American—too kind and gentle to have a mean bone in his body. But sometimes, like when he smiled like that, he had to be conscious of what he was doing. He didn’t play the innocent and well-intentioned Midwestern boy all the time.
In fact, Cheyenne was starting to respect him more and more. It made her feel a little like they were a team. “Let’s drop some jaws,” she said and took his arm.
These people hated her, but she wasn’t sure Roan would understand that, so she didn’t mention it. He thought they were here in Marbella because this was her home and her people, but it was much more complicated than that. He wouldn’t perhaps understand that they were there to conquer—wicked smile or not.
The doors were opened and led to a large space in white. Fine art graced the walls and modern Italian furniture was tastefully arranged. The party itself was in the back, where the backyard opened up to a gorgeous view along the coast. This place was designed for entertaining. A pool sparkled with luminescent water, a bar sat to the left, but the centrepiece was the view.
“Gorgeous view,” Roan said, clearly impressed. “Doesn’t have that overdeveloped feel that you get in California.”
Cheyenne didn’t care about the view, she cared about the looks on people’s faces when she walked in with Roan Hancock on her arm. They were by far the best looking couple there, probably on the coast.
Searching the partygoers, she saw familiar faces, former lovers, and saw a few faces with mouths so tight, they looked like they were about to pop an aneurysm. I’m back, bitches, she said silently. Every time I get beat down, I come back stronger.
Across the lawn, she saw Dominic Dunbury chatting with people, a drink in his hand, with some dark-haired woman Cheyenne had never seen. Seeing him twisted her gut, because he’d been the only man who had ever turned her down flat. It still smarted, and Cheyenne refused to consider herself inferior to the woman he was apparently with now. Gorgeous, but old.
Alexi, her ex, was there with his insipid gi
rlfriend. He looked the same, hair a little shorter. It was still a shame things had not worked out with him. He’d suited her well, but obviously, his streak of insanity had got the better of him. She headed that way. Paul, stupid, kind Paul, with his arm around Alice Cavendish. Actually, they made a good couple and Cheyenne was happy for him, happy that he’d managed to fight for her—although he’d been too stupid to achieve it without her help.
They looked a bit stunned as she walked up. “Hi, all. Been a while.”
“Cheyenne,” Alexi said. “I didn’t know you were in town.”
“We’ve been here a few days now. This is Roan Hancock.”
None of them seemed to know who he was, and maybe they didn’t. Alexi didn’t watch movies and Paul was culturally oblivious unless it included some fat woman singing. Alice knew, though, and she blushed bright red as she shook Roan’s hand.
Cheyenne placed her hand on his shoulder, pressing herself along his side. “It’s good to be back.”
“How was LA?” Paul asked. It had actually been his idea that she go there.
“Fascinating place, of course. And I met Roan, who is an absolute treasure. The pace is a bit frenetic and it was time for a bit more sedate lifestyle for a while. Wasn’t it?” she asked Roan.
“Can’t get away from work in LA,” Roan confirmed.
“And what do you do?” Paul asked brightly and Alice nudged him, flaring red again.
“I’m an actor,” Roan said, amused at being asked by someone who genuinely had no idea.
“Paul here is an academic,” Cheyenne filled in, “as I believe is his sister. Sorry I can’t recall your name,” she said to Rosalie. Of course, she remembered the cow’s name, but that was beside the point.
“Rosalie,” the woman said and smiled warmly as she shook Roan’s hand. “Rosalie Wallis.” Really, the bitch was as utterly clueless and guileless as her brother. Cheyenne truly didn’t understand what Alexi saw in her, but he couldn’t be shaken from that path. “How long are you staying for, Mr. Hancock?”
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