He was also a lost man. Didn’t really seem to know what he was doing with himself. Well, that wasn’t right. He was trying to go somewhere; he just didn’t know where. A guy in transition, he would say, and that probably applied to her as well. Like her, his life was a bit of a mess. But she liked the idea that she was in transition. The exact destination was unknown, although Roan seemed to think she could stay here in Marbella, but how can you take for granted the words of a man in transition?
“Cheryl,” a woman said, distracting her from her thoughts. It was Anita Sheeran, a woman who used to be a regular client. “You look well.”
“Thank you,” Cheryl said, holding her clutch tightly to the skirt of her wrap dress.
“Come to meet that handsome man of yours?” Anita said knowingly with a spreading smile. So her dates with Roan had not gone unnoticed.
“Just a friend.” She wouldn’t go so far as blatantly lying. Technically they were friends, but everyone assumed it was a lie.
“It’s such a shame you shut down your salon. I do miss our weekly appointments.”
Cheryl could only smile. Anita had been one of the first to defect when the rumour claimed that Cheryl was a gold-digging whore. Her supposed relationship with Roan neatly wiped away all those accusations. The sad thing was that she could have done exactly as the women around here had accused her off, bagged a golden man, and now things were all forgiven. Roan on her arm overruled any moral objection they’d had to her a minute ago.
“Ah, thanks,” Cheryl said, not really knowing what else to say. The politeness and understanding she always showed to her clients was hard to shake, even when they did something utterly mindboggling. Would they really forgive her anything as long as she stood next to Roan? Maybe it was worth testing the water. “I am wondering about upgrading to a new one,” Cheryl said.
“Oh, you must. I will be your first client. Do let me know if you decide to.”
“Of course,” Cheryl smiled. It was hard not to take offense at how easily the woman changed her tune, but it wasn’t in her interest to alienate a client even if she found their behaviour reprehensible. “I’d better go. See you later.”
Cheryl’s smile melted away as soon as she turned away. It seemed Roan was right. He had the Midas touch and the objections to her had now simply evaporated. In a sense, she should be happy as this meant there was a future for her in Marbella, but it was also gut-wrenching when people deeply disappointed her.
“Hi,” she said as she approached Roan. “It seems you were right about the influence you have by mere association.”
“I told you,” he said, half standing to give her a kiss over the table. Cheryl felt awkward receiving it. There was still that niggle of conflict between the image of him and the real him. It threatened to distract her for a moment.
“How are you?”
“Good,” he said. He said it so casually, it had to be an automatic reaction.
God, he was handsome. It was utterly unworldly. His beauty always threatened to distract as well.
“Actually, I don’t know,” he admitted. “I learned something today and it’s been on my mind ever since.”
“Oh?”
“You recall me mentioning Lauren, the girl I ran with back in high school and just after.
The only girl he’d ever loved. “I remember.”
“I wasn’t exactly stalking or anything, but I did check her out today.” He looked down at his fingers on the table. “Turns out she’s single.”
“Oh,” Cheryl said. “Did you reach out to her?”
“No, of course not. That was ancient history. It’s just that she wasn’t as happily married as I thought she was. In a way, I can’t see how I didn’t know this, but then we haven’t been friends for a while.”
“It’s not often you reach out to your ex when things are wrong.” Actually, scrap that, she thought, people do that all the time.
“Figured my mom would have told me. She always liked Lauren.”
“Probably thought you were too busy.”
“I actually was too busy—for just about everything. And you can’t really go back, can you?”
Cheryl didn’t quite know what to say. It was obvious that there was something meaningful about this girl to him. She was clearly on his mind. Then again, love never really went away, did it? Not unless it was burned away with disappointment and cruelty. For him, though, it sounded as if they’d had a perfect and passionate romance. One that had never ended with any kind of resolution. But he had been a kid and he was probably right in saying that you couldn’t go back to some youthful romance. Both of them were vastly different people now.
“I’ve been thinking about buying a boat,” he said in a radical departure in topic. Guess he’d had enough of reminiscing about the past.
“Maybe you should reach out.” Cheryl wasn’t ready to move on. There was something here. “You’re never going to know if you don’t.”
“Know what?”
“If the girl you knew is still there.”
Roan’s emotions seemed to switch back and forth on his face for a moment. “I’m no longer the guy she knew.”
“The guy you are now is nothing to scoff at, you know.”
He actually blushed. How could a guy like that blush as such a statement when he took accolades and compliments in his stride? Maybe because she hadn’t been talking about the actor, but the guy who was halfway around the world, lost in his transition.
Chapter 50
Esme was at home by the time Dominic arrived. Dinner was scheduled with Bianca at one of the nearby restaurants, but he had an hour before he had to leave.
As per routine, he went to his study and poured himself a whiskey. This was his unwinding ritual that included a stiff drink and a perusal of some of the business news websites. It occurred to him that he had no real hobbies. There were things he did, usually for the purpose of business, such as golf, but they weren’t things he particularly enjoyed.
Sailing used to be something he’d enjoyed when he was younger, but the arrival of the children and a multiplying workload had made that increasingly hard. Maybe he should take it up again.
He switched over to look through some sailing websites, remembering the joy and elation of feeling the power of the wind and the thought of sheer freedom.
“Hey Dad,” Esme said from the door of his study, breaking into his reverie.
“Esme. How is your venture going?”
“Good. I’m looking for a perfumist.”
“Right,” he said, only half paying attention.
Esme walked into his office and sat down on one of the chairs. “So, do you remember how you asked me to look into these rumours about the hairdresser.”
Dominic’s attention sharped. “Yes.”
“Well, if the idea was that the rumours were all manufactured by one person, then it is right and that person is Bianca.”
Dominic was stunned. His eyebrows rose. Bianca. The shock was soon replaced by anger coursing through his body, making him feel hot. Not that he showed any of this reaction. Reactions were not for display. Cheryl had lost her business, her livelihood because of these rumours. This felt like a massive betrayal. Why would Bianca do this—to Cheryl of all people?
On so many levels, none of this made sense, but he wasn’t being entirely honest, either. Bianca was clearing away the competition. He’d been unaware that Bianca had noticed that he had any interest in Cheryl. Technically, he didn’t have any interest in Cheryl, but Bianca had seen her as a threat and had run her out of town. In business, he would have done the same, but he had a hard time seeing it so objectively when it was his life and relationships being managed. Not that there was a relationship with Cheryl. He respected her, that was all.
As a result, Cheryl had been damaged, and he knew she didn’t have the means to simply absorb such a knock. Cheryl’s life was in ruins. Well, maybe not. Repeatedly, she had been seen with her new boyfriend—a man that could hardly be seen
as suited to her. Well, he was probably helping her and Dominic shouldn’t begrudge her that, even if help had been on offer elsewhere.
With a frown, he remembered how hurt she’d been when she’d come to hand over her keys, how painful it was for her to admit that her business had failed. Cheryl never was one to hide her emotions. They flowed out of her. She’d make a terrible negotiator.
Suddenly, he became aware that Esme was watching him, seemingly waiting for some response. “I need to get ready for dinner,” he said.
Esme took the hint. “Well, good luck with everything,” was all she said before she walked out of the room. What would her expectations be with regards to Bianca? Effectively, she had gone around his back and destroyed the livelihood of what was effectively a friend. It all seemed so brutal and unnecessary, and she had done it in a way that left Cheryl little recourse to defend himself.
Looking back, Bianca had always had a vicious streak. He now recalled the terse reaction to finding Cheryl present at some of the functions they’d gone to. And he’d barely done more than speak to the woman. Irrationality would be a liability to his life. What if Bianca started taking offense to the wife of one of his business partners? It would be devastating. There was a habit of picking off the weakest female members that had come into their group—new girlfriends or friends. Bianca guarded her patch, and did so with fierceness.
Cheryl had undoubtedly suffered this fate because of him. That sat very uncomfortably with him. Least not because there was something that respected and understood Bianca’s determination to watch out for her own interests. It was what he did every day for Dunbury Industries. He left people in the dust and the consequences were often painful for them. In that sense, he shouldn’t begrudge her—but his friend had suffered.
He owed nothing to Cheryl. In fact, he’d bent over backwards to accommodate her. The fact that she had nothing to defend herself with wasn’t his fault. Perhaps everyone living here should be able to defend themselves against the vicious barbs of the Marbella women. People like Cheryl got eaten for breakfast.
All this still didn’t settle the unease he felt at the whole thing. And now he had to refresh himself so he could go have dinner with the perpetrator. Would he take her home and sleep with her that night? Distaste twisted in his gut, part of it including the double standard in that he spurned behaviour in her that he embraced in himself. He was being hypocritical.
An instinct in him wished he could be childish and simply not go tonight and then to refuse to answer her subsequent calls. But childish was not how he conducted himself.
Walking into his bedroom, he changed his shirt and pulled out a slightly more casual jacket from his neatly arranged wardrobe where his suits were lined according to colour. He tried to imagine the other side of the wardrobe lined with Bianca’s bright and colourful clothes. Two predators in their roost.
Was that who he wanted to be? Cheryl wasn’t a predator, never had been. She was soft and giving, her smiles genuine. An image of her waiting for him to come home crept unwanted into his mind. Her softness and heart stripping away the things that made him a good CEO and a successful business man. It was something else entirely from Bianca, where they would effectively be joining forces.
What was the point thinking about it anyway? Cheryl had always been unsuitable as a partner. He’d known that from the very beginning. Besides, she was with that actor now. The idea of it still made his stomach turn. If anyone was unsuitable, it was that man. If Cheryl was too soft for Marbella, LA would destroy everything that made her remarkable.
It was time to leave. The evening he had planned had turned into something else, and he could no longer not see what he and Bianca were and would be together. Everything they did would be for gain, for advancement of their objectives. Mostly hers, to be fair. Bianca had ambitions in Marbella and nothing in her would ever walk away from them.
He drove, the time passing quickly. Bianca was waiting at the door, looking stunning in a dress that was definitely French and very expensive. He knew she wore similarly expensive lingerie underneath. Lush, dark hair curled on her shoulders and her slim form stood straight with the confidence of a woman who knew the world was going to give her a place in it. A victor.
Bianca smiled. “Hello, darling,” she said, kissing him on the mouth. It felt wrong. “What’s the matter?” Her eyes were searching him.
“Nothing,” he said and she studied him for a moment before conceding to walk into the restaurant.
“I was thinking we should throw a party,” she said.
Dominic already knew there wouldn’t be a party.
They sat down and a waiter gave them the wine menu.
“You seem very quiet tonight,” Bianca said. “Difficult day at the office?”
Perhaps a little curtly, he waved the waiter away. It grated to try to inanely chat with her. What was the point? He was here to do a job. “Bianca, I think you should go back to London.”
She froze. “Pardon?” Eyes pierced into him, but he refused to look away.
“This relationship is not working for me.”
“It was working well enough yesterday. It was working well enough in Venice. Why the sudden change of heart?”
“Maybe we are a little too alike.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said tersely. Her mouth had drawn tight with disapproval and she stared down her nose at him. Her disapproval was not something she ever hid, but he had never been one to care about other people’s opinions of him. It had never been relevant. You can’t take over a dozen companies a year and care about others being upset. Like this, they were already a done deal. This was only a matter of informing her.
Grabbing her clutch, she rose without a word and walked out with her back straight and long strides on towering heels. And it was done.
“We won’t be dining, after all,” he said to the waiter. “Perhaps a whiskey.” Might as well give Bianca some time to clear away before he made his way outside. No point risking any dramatics by running into her outside.
Chapter 51
The boat didn’t even sway as Cheyenne walked to the very aft and looked at the white wake across the deep blue of the sea. Sea air was streaming through her hair and she sighed with contentment. Samara’s boat might even be a little larger than Alexi’s. It was sumptuously decorated in black and gold, Italian marble covering every surface.
The bikini she wore under her knit Versace dress would not go to waste as she would swim when they stopped. The girls were all having drinks around the covered table, nibbles of cheese, crackers and olives being placed down by the staff.
“I love being out at sea,” Cheyenne admitted.
“Yes, it is worth the brutality on my hair,” Julia said.
“Did you hear that Dominic is single again?” Viola stated. “The end was observed and done with Dominic’s typical no nonsense brutality.”
Cheyenne had been down the road of pursuing Dominic and it had cost her dearly. No one seemed to get close to the man.
“I never liked that woman,” Julia said. “So… ”
“Old?” Samara filled in.
“Grasping, I was going to say. Dominic was her objective from the moment she turned up. Anyone could see it.”
“Well, good riddance. I hope she’s crawled back to where she came from,” Samara said, taking a sip of her champagne. Cheyenne smiled. There was no sentimentality in Samara. You were either her friend or you were nothing.
“Dominic doesn’t like being chased, but there is always someone who tries,” Viola said. Cheyenne was not going to participate in this discussion and in any way highlight that she had stumbled in that regard. “Always ends messy.”
“You were close to him for a while, weren’t you?” Julia said and Cheyenne felt her hackles rise. Julia was the one in the group that sometimes took pot shots at her—the one who was always a little jealous. She’d had a go at this one before, but Cheyenne had skirted it sufficiently well. Th
e trick was how to deal with them.
“Friends,” Cheyenne said. “Although some thought otherwise.” She sat down at the table and crossed her long, lean legs.
“Wasn’t there something in Paris?” Alright, Julia wasn’t giving up.
“I sometimes catch a ride with him if he is heading where I’m going. He’s a very sweet man.” No one in their right mind would call Dominic Dunbury sweet.
“Flying commercial is soul destroying,” Samara said with distaste. “You can always catch a ride with me.”
“Ah, you are sweetness personified,” Cheyenne said. “If you were single, I might set you and Dom up. Is there anything better than two people you like getting together?”
The problem with this tack was that she had more or less confirmed a friendship between her and Dominic. It would be something she would have to follow up on. Dominic was easy to flirt with, and easy to deal with unless you stepped on his toes, or in some way overstepped your mark. In his world, things happened his way.
“Sorry to put water on your fantasy, but he is much too British for me,” Samara said. “Too polite.”
Dominic and Samara’s husband weren’t that different, except he was Persian and ran a construction empire across the Middle East and Asia. The family wealth surpassed Dominic’s amassed fortune. Samara and her family literally had money to burn.
“How can you go to bed with someone who is polite? I’d never feel like a woman.”
Julia changed to the topic. Her ammunition hadn’t hit its mark and Cheyenne knew that there was none left to be had. Her failed attempt to get together with Dominic was the last of the embarrassments in her history, and she was now immune from further barbs. Twice picking on the same topic to no avail was enough. Sorry Julia, no leverage there. Cheyenne felt like laughing. The last hurdle had been cleared. This was what it felt like to achieve one’s ambition. And if she had learned anything from being in Samara’s company, it was to take everything with a degree of chill. Climbing was a very different thing from being at the top, and out of all of the girls, Samara was the best possible example to learn from.
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