The Greek Escape

by Karen Swan

  Poppy looked back at her, dismay on her face. ‘And Alexander thought Lorenzo took Elodie?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if he still thinks that, but he did in the beginning.’

  Poppy looked at her. ‘Do you?’

  ‘No. I don’t think it was anything to do with Gelardi – other than a freak coincidence of timing.’

  ‘Do you think she’s still alive?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘No.’ Chloe shook her head, her tone flat. ‘I think she jumped.’

  ‘Suicide? But why? That makes no sense. He adored her. He gave her the perfect life.’

  Chloe looked away – the more she imagined what Elodie’s life might have been like with Alexander, the further away from perfect it seemed to get. ‘Alexander wasn’t . . . he wasn’t the man he appeared to be, Poppy,’ she said quietly, hoping they could leave it at that. She didn’t want to have to tell her the full truth of what she knew about him; it would devastate her and terrify her in one blow.

  ‘No, it’s not Alexander’s fault.’ Poppy’s voice was vehement. ‘No, this is . . .’ Her expression crumpled. ‘Oh God, this can’t be happening.’

  Chloe took her hand and squeezed it. ‘What can’t?’

  Poppy looked straight at her. ‘Lorenzo did take her. And it’s all my fault.’

  Her words exploded like smoke bombs, filling the room, hissing in the silence. A mole . . .

  ‘. . . What?’

  Poppy swallowed, seeming to struggle to gather her voice. ‘The night before my accident, I was working late.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. You’d organized Alexander’s dinner on the iceberg and you were staying to check it had all gone to plan.’

  ‘Exactly. No one else was in the office, it was just me. And after a while I went out to get some dinner. I took my bag and was gone maybe forty minutes? None of the lights were on because it was still light.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I suppose it must have looked like everyone had gone for the weekend.’

  Chloe watched her, feeling a rising anxiety trickling through her nervous system. Where was Poppy going with this? Poppy’s mouth had turned down slightly at the corners, paling, her voice becoming more strained.

  ‘So imagine my surprise when I got back, to find someone sitting at my desk.’ Her attempt at wryness failed. ‘She didn’t hear me come back in because of course I did my usual and took the stairs, not the lift; I must have watched her for a good twenty, thirty seconds before she realized I was there.’

  ‘She?’ But even as Chloe asked the question, the answer came to her.

  Poppy’s eyes blazed. ‘Serena. She was going through my files – I hadn’t bothered logging out because I was coming back and I thought no one else was there.’

  ‘Oh my God.’ Chloe felt winded, as though the air had been punched from her lungs. ‘Serena was the mole.’

  Poppy caught on her words. ‘The mole? So then you knew too?’

  Chloe met her gaze; there was no hiding it now. ‘Alexander thought it was you,’ she whispered, watching how Poppy’s eyes slowly filled with tears as the intimation became clear. Alexander thought she had betrayed him – so he had betrayed her right back. He was behind the accident. He had tried to have her killed.

  Poppy looked away, unable to stop the tears falling, her eyes shining in the setting sunlight as she looked towards the window, understanding it all now. ‘Well, I suppose he would have thought that,’ she whispered. ‘What else could he have thought?’

  As if that made it okay? Justifiable? Chloe grabbed her good hand, clutching it tightly. ‘Poppy, listen to me, none of this is your fault.’

  But Poppy just stared out at the city that had continued without her, not missing a single beat; guilt sat on her as heavily as a bear. ‘Yes it is. It’s all my fault.’ Her voice was scarcely more than a whisper. ‘I was careless. I should have logged out. Alexander depended on my discretion; he trusted me to safeguard his privacy and I let him down. Because of me, Serena was able to give Lorenzo what he needed and now Alexander’s lost everything.’

  Chloe dropped her head, not knowing what to say, how to talk her out of shouldering all this blame. ‘What happened with Serena? Did you confront her?’ Chloe asked quietly, eventually.

  ‘Confront her?’ Poppy scoffed, a strangled snort escaping her. ‘Hell, I practically threw her out of the office by her hair. It’ll all be on the CCTV, just wait till you see it. I told her not to bother coming back, that I was going to tell Jack everything, that she was out. Done.’

  But of course, things hadn’t played out that way; Jack had been in Palm Beach and Monday had already been too late. The very next day, Alexander – suspecting the wrong lifestyle manager – had exacted his revenge. Chloe remembered Serena’s fake concern on the Monday, pulling rank on her, trying to intimidate her, trying to find out what she knew. It made her feel sick to realize everything had already been in motion by then, Serena covering her tracks, and then moving in on Poppy’s other clients whilst Chloe was away . . .

  Oh God. Her stomach lurched as she realized something else: Serena with her clipboard, the day Chloe had arrived back from Greece, questioning the florist’s invoice. Chloe, quick to put her in her place, had told her she had placed the order herself, that it was a romantic gesture from Alexander to his wife whilst she was on the boat alone. Chloe had betrayed his movements after all, to the very person who was reporting back to her own client – Alexander’s sworn enemy.

  Chloe stared at her friend – if Poppy was guilty, so was she. They had both been lax, they had both been at risk. ‘Poppy,’ she said gently. ‘You have nothing to berate yourself for. You always acted in his best interests. The man is a gangster. A monster. He tried to kill you.’

  But Poppy just looked back at her with a dead-eyed gaze. ‘And can you blame him?’

  Tom was sitting on the fire escape outside the bedroom when she got back, a small blanket spread over the iron tread steps, a bottle of Bollinger sitting in an old red fire bucket she had seen hanging in the communal corridor and which he had filled with ice.

  ‘Hey.’ His eyes brightened at the sight of her. ‘You’re back! My God, I was going to send out the sniffer dogs. What took you so long?’

  She sighed, dropping her bag on the floor. Not now, she thought. She couldn’t deal with this now. The last thing she felt like was a clichéd seduction on the steps, sipping champagne as the sun set. His relentless romancing was beginning to grate; having lost her not once but twice seemed to have left him almost needy, desperate to show her – and perhaps himself too – that they were doing the right thing, that all the upheaval and heartache had been worth it. ‘. . . I stopped by the hospital to see Poppy,’ she mumbled. ‘They’ve removed the wires from her jaw.’

  ‘Oh! Well that’s great. How’s she doing?’

  ‘Yeah . . .’ she faltered. ‘Much better.’ It was true, physically, at least.

  ‘I really must get in to see her. I feel terrible I haven’t been in yet.’

  Chloe didn’t reply, she didn’t have the energy. She pushed her shoes off and walked barefoot across the bedroom; he watched her through the open window as she began to take off her work clothes, weariness in every movement.

  He frowned as he watched her, sensing her low mood. ‘She must be desperate to get out of there.’

  ‘Yeah.’ She pulled a pair of grey sweat shorts and a t-shirt from the wardrobe.

  ‘God, the boredom, just lying there day and night for weeks. Can you imagine?’

  ‘I’d rather not.’

  ‘Any idea when they’re going to release her?’

  ‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask.’

  He laughed. ‘What did you two talk about?’

  She shot him a look. Like he’d want to know.

  ‘Girl stuff, huh?’

  ‘Mmm.’ She crossed over to the bed; but rather than climb over it to the window and join him outside, she sank down on it instead.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ he asked as she f
lung herself back and stared up at the ceiling. She felt like crying.

  ‘I’m just tired,’ she mumbled, wishing she could be here alone.

  ‘Well, tough. You and I are celebrating. Get out here.’ Slowly, she turned her head and he winked at her as he pulled the gold foil off the top of the bottle.

  ‘. . . What are you celebrating?’ She was reluctant even to ask as she realized she actually didn’t care.

  ‘Come out here and I’ll tell you.’ He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  She stared at him for a moment, the first time she’d looked at him properly since she’d come in, in fact. She could see he was as fizzy as the drink; clearly something big had happened. With a sigh, she scrambled over the bed and climbed rather inelegantly out of the window. He held out a hand and pulled her through.

  The cork flew off with a satisfying pop, clattering down through the steps to the street below. He poured them each a glass, handing hers to her, and she watched him expectantly as he held his up for a toast. ‘To Invicta – and her new owners.’

  Her mouth fell open. ‘What?’

  ‘We sold the company.’

  ‘What?’ she asked again. ‘. . . Since when?’

  The grin spread almost from one side of his face to the other. ‘The deal was inked today.’ His beam grew as he watched her disbelief. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me how much?’

  She frowned. ‘Okay, how much?’

  ‘Thirty-four million. Seventeen mill each,’ he added, in case she couldn’t do the maths.

  ‘My God, Tom!’ she whispered. ‘I can’t . . . I can’t believe it. I didn’t even know you were looking at selling.’

  He reached over and kissed her, the excitement literally buzzing from him like an electrical charge. ‘I couldn’t say. Everything was massively hush-hush, it had to be. We couldn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘But not even to me?’ She wasn’t just anyone, was she? How could he not have told her about something as big as this? Didn’t he trust her? Didn’t her opinion matter? Quite apart from their personal relationship, she was the company’s longest-serving employee.

  ‘Believe me, I wanted to, but you’ve had so much going on lately, Chlo, and I know you’ve been missing Kate, worrying about Poppy. I didn’t want to add to your stress with this.’ He shook his head. ‘Honestly, it’s been a fucking nightmare – one minute it was on, the next it was off again. And Jack took a lot of convincing. He wanted us to wait and see out our ten-year plan – but this offer, it was too good. Even he could see it wouldn’t come around again.’ She remembered what Xan had said about their arguments and fights, the sulks and silences. Had it all been about this?

  He drew a breath, his eyes dancing with delight. He was almost giddy on the success, knocking back the champagne like water. ‘Hurry, hurry. Drink up. Tonight, we are going to get well and truly trollied.’ He poured himself another glass, topped up hers, the bubbles fizzing over the sides and making her fingers sticky. ‘Just think, the world’s our oyster, Chlo – we can get a new place. Something incredible. Something huge!’ he laughed. ‘We can go away on a round-the-world trip. Whatever you want.’ He took her hand and kissed it excitedly. ‘This is it; we’ve done it. We’re set for life. We can live the dream, have everything we ever wanted.’

  She looked at him in dazed bewilderment. He was already drunk on the success. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m stunned,’ she said honestly.

  ‘There are terms of course – we can’t ride off into the sunset just yet; Jack and I have to remain as managing directors for three years and 20 per cent of the price will be issued as shares in the parent company.’

  ‘Which is what?’

  ‘A high-end hotel group. In addition to running their core business, they want to develop another strand to Invicta and roll us out as a facility for their guests.’

  ‘So you mean, you’re taking Invicta in-house? You’re giving up all those contacts and relationships with all the other luxury hotels in the world, to be associated with just one?’ The scepticism rang out loud and true in her voice. How could he have done this? Finding and building those partnerships was her job. Going in-house with one brand was going to severely restrict their members’ movements. How many of them would want to only ever stay in or drink in or eat at that one brand? Variety and choice was what their members paid for.

  ‘Well it’s worked well for the Soho House Group.’

  ‘But you’re not Soho House! You have an entirely different business model.’

  ‘Well, clearly,’ Tom snapped, not appreciating her assertions. ‘But by aligning ourselves with this parent company, we can still be a truly global concierge service but with a physical presence – now we’re not just a voice down the phone or a name on an email. It’s a perfect synergy. Our members are given a premium booking discount incentivizing them to stay at the hotels within the group, and their paying guests – once they’ve sampled our services – are given a membership discount if they want to sign up with us. It’s a win-win.’

  Chloe stared at him. He just didn’t get it. Notwithstanding her concerns about the restrictions this imposed upon them all, she was the Head of Corporate Partnerships; or had he forgotten that? Her opinion on this should have been valuable – crucial – and yet he’d cut her out. ‘So who is it then? Which group? What are their hotels?’

  Tom took a deep glug of the champagne, tipping his head back in the amber sunlight. He swallowed and smacked his lips together happily. ‘The Ritz Barcelona, Palazzo Parigi in Rome, The Royal Post in Lisbon . . .’

  Chloe stared at him. She frowned, feeling a buzz begin in her head as the blood began to rush. ‘But . . . But those are Alexander’s hotels.’

  Tom’s gaze skipped on her and off again. ‘Not any more.’

  She stared at him, feeling the world begin to speed up. ‘Gelardi.’

  ‘Yes, the board accepted their offer this afternoon. Subocheva’s out, Gelardi’s in. You’re not drinking,’ he chided, topping up her glass needlessly, almost to the brim. He refilled his again. Was this excitement? Or agitation? He couldn’t return her stare, she realized.

  ‘Tom . . .’ she said quietly, looking at him. She had a growing sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. ‘What’s going on?’

  He glanced at her, away again. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘What have you done?’

  He frowned, gave a small shrug. ‘I don’t follow.’

  But she did. The wheels were beginning to slowly turn in her mind. Gelardi had been successful in his bid, a bid that was only possible thanks to the confidential information Serena had supplied; Poppy had taken the fall for it, she’d almost been killed because of it. And now, on the very day Gelardi finally beat his old rival, he bought the company which had leaked the information to him in the first place?

  That wasn’t a coincidence. And that wasn’t business, it was bribery. She looked at Tom, feeling cold suddenly, in the sun.

  ‘You were in on it,’ she whispered as she watched him, beginning to see it now.

  ‘In on what?’

  But she wasn’t fooled by his disingenuousness, not any more, and Tom went still as he saw the understanding begin to dawn across her features. The silence that erupted between them was as loud as a thunderclap and just as startling. ‘. . . Now just listen, I can explain.’ He reached for her but she withdrew; even his touch would be toxic.

  ‘You were working with Lorenzo. This payday only happened if you delivered him the material he needed to destroy Subocheva. And Serena—’ The words were snatched from her as the full implications hit her head-on. ‘Oh God. She was reporting to you.’ The blood drained from her face as she looked at him, seeing him now as if for the first – the only – time. ‘You didn’t cheat on me with her; that wasn’t why she was in your room that night.’ She thought back, remembering how he had stilled as she’d confronted him with the truth that she had known Serena had been in his hotel room. ‘You let me believe that you had slept with her because it was bet
ter than admitting what you were really doing together.’

  She got up and turned away. She felt sick as she remembered it – he hadn’t made any excuses, put up any defence when she’d confronted him about it. Infidelity, he had reasoned, could be excused, possibly forgiven. After all, she’d succumbed to temptation too, right? He’d tried to make her believe that they were guilty of the same crime.

  What other crimes was he guilty of? Oh God – she froze. What else had he done to stop the truth from coming out? ‘Did Serena tell you that Poppy had found her spying?’ she whispered.

  No reply.

  ‘And did you then tell Lorenzo?’ A sob leapt to her throat as the words left her. ‘Poppy was mown down the next day, Tom! You knew, didn’t you? It wasn’t Alexander at all, it was Gelardi! And you knew and you did nothing!’ She spat the words at him, unable to hide her disgust any longer.

  He shook his head, panic in his eyes. ‘No. I didn’t know, not for sure.’

  ‘Stop lying to me!’

  ‘I’m not!’ he cried. ‘I didn’t know that what happened to Poppy wasn’t an accident. Not at first.’

  ‘That is bullshit! You want me to believe that within hours of your scam being discovered, Poppy ends up under the wheels of a car and that timing isn’t suspicious to you?’

  Tom’s face crumpled suddenly, like a piece of paper crushed in a fist. ‘Okay, yes, look – I admit I had my suspicions. But I swear, I never knew he would do that, Chlo, you have to believe me. When I warned him that Serena had been busted, it was to get him to withdraw, to backtrack from going ahead with the bid. The timing was all wrong, it was too dangerous. I never thought . . . not for a moment that he would do something like that . . . I swear.’ The sobs shook his shoulders. ‘I love Poppy. She was never supposed to get hurt.’

  ‘But she did! Because of you!’

  ‘I know! And I’ve got to live with that. But I’m not a bad man, Chlo. You know that. I’m not like them. I was just trying to set up our future.’