Black Dahlia (The Dahlia Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 2) (4 page)

The Old Woman takes Dahlia’s hand into hers and closes her eyes. She whispers something unintelligible for a few minutes before opening them and studying Dahlia’s face. Without touching Dahlia, she moves her small, child-sized hands over her body, a warm energy emanating from them.

“What is she doing?” Dahlia asks the man.

“Shhh,” he warns.

Finally, the woman removes the cloth from Dahlia’s ankle and speaks directly to her.

“She says not to wash off the salve until tonight,” the man translates for her. Dahlia offers her an appreciative smile and mumbles a thank you.

But the woman continues to speak, her eyes and hands motioning up and down Dahlia. A look of worry crosses the man’s face.

“What is she saying?” Dahlia asks.

“Wait,” he replies, holding up a finger as he continues to listen to the Old Woman’s ramblings.

Dahlia could hardly keep up with the hand gestures, but when she pointed back and forth between the man and Dahlia, it was clear it was about her.

Suddenly, she stops speaking, brings her hands together in prayer and bows her head toward Dahlia. With that, she walks out of the room as quietly as she entered.

Dahlia rides in the front seat of the Mercedes jeep as he drives her back to the villa—although she briefly thinks that he could be taking her anywhere on the island and she wouldn’t know what to do. Then again, Dahlia rationalizes, he probably wouldn’t have helped her if he planned to hurt her. Still, keeping company with a stranger isn’t sitting well with her.

“You haven’t told me your name,” she says.

“You never asked. It’s not as if I know yours either. The reservation was made under a pseudonym, which is par for the course at this place.”

“I think it’s fair to say that I was preoccupied with my leg wound.”

“Yeah, okay.” He quickly jerks the jeep to the left to avoid a woman biking along the narrow road.

“Wait, let me guess. My friend used the name Isadora Wing.”

“You got it,” he replies, chuckling. “I take it she’s an Erica Jong fan.”

“You know Erica Jong?” Dahlia asks. “The
zipless fuck
?”

He nods. “I had a girlfriend who went through a phase, read all her stuff, and quoted her all the time. It got pretty old, but I have to say even I liked some of her poetry,” he says wistfully.

He looks over at Dahlia and smiles, revealing blindingly white, straight teeth and crater-sized dimples. “My name is Kaiaka. My friends call me Kai.”

“Alright Kai,” Dahlia says, sticking her arm out the window to feel the rush of air over it. “I’m Dahlia.”

“Dahlia, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Where are you from? I don’t take you for a local.”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “No. I’m from Maui. Been here for a few years now.”

“What were you speaking back there?”

“It’s a hodge-podge—local dialect, some Bahasa Indonesia and a Balinese word or two thrown into the mix. Took a while before I could figure it out.”

“Are you going to tell me what the Old Woman was saying back there?”

He shrugs, his expression turning serious. “It wasn’t much.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to believe that. She rattled on for at least five minutes. It had to be something.”

Kai downshifts and makes a sharp right turn, guiding the jeep up a steep incline. Dahlia quickly recognizes the unpaved road up to the villa.

He circles around the large driveway and pulls up into the shaded porte-cochère in front of the large wooden double doors.

“This is it? You’re not even going to answer my question?” Dahlia asks, exasperated.

Kai hops out of the jeep and opens the door on Dahlia’s side. He holds out his hand to help her down.

“Maybe some other time. It wasn’t important,” he says unconvincingly. The look in his eyes tells Dahlia otherwise.

“Who’s the hunk, D?” Vi asks as she follows Dahlia up the stairs to her room. “He’s got one hell of an ass.”

Dahlia rolls her eyes. “No one. He’s just the property manager.”

“If I’d have known he was so cute, I would’ve called in a few complaints to get him over here.”

“Well, if you do, his name is Kai. And let me have some warning so I can give you some privacy,” Dahlia says smirking. “Where’s Lily?”

“In her room packing,” Vi sighs. “Alejandro’s meeting her in New York for a few days. Then it’s off to Miami for good. I can’t believe she’s ditching me to live there.”

“Don’t forget, Vi. You were considering a move to Dubai at one point. That would’ve made you the ditch-er. Which would you have preferred?” Dahlia makes her way to the balcony and sits down, propping her leg up on a small table. “It’s always easier being the one to leave. Those you leave behind are the ones who have to pick up the pieces.”

“Oh my God, D. What the hell happened to you?” Vi points to the patch on Dahlia’s ankle.

Dahlia shakes her head and leans back into the chair, wishing she could disappear into it. Talking about Lily leaving New York only reminds her that she has no idea what she’s doing with her life, let alone where she’s going to live. Being in the same city as Lily always seemed to ground her—something that Dahlia took for granted until now. But it’s not as if Miami is an option—not now, especially since Rodrigo is there. Dahlia closes her eyes to push out the memory of when she saw him last—a reminder of giving up one love only to lose another. “Later Vi. I’m not in the mood.”

A loud knock on the door wakes Dahlia. Dusk is falling over the beach in the distance, painting the horizon in beautiful vermilion, orange and purple hues. She pauses to breathe in the colors, promising herself to capture it on canvas tomorrow. Not that she’s drawn anything since Shane died.
Tomorrow
, she sighs. The word, the very idea pregnant with so much promise, yet it only fills her with dread.

“D?” She hears Lily call through the door.

“Yeah?” Dahlia doesn’t move.

“Mind if I come in?”

Before Dahlia can answer, she hears Vi say, “Enough treating her like she’s going to break.”

Vi storms in and announces, “Get up, wash that smelly shit off and get dressed. We’re going out tonight.”

“Vi!” Lily comes to Dahlia’s defense. “She didn’t just go through a break-up. Tough love doesn’t help someone get through their grief.”

“Perhaps not,” Vi replies, nonplussed. “But she does need the occasional reminder that there is a world outside of her pain, and eventually she will need to find her place in it again.”

Dahlia turns her back on the view and crosses her arms. “Where are you suggesting we go? Have some drinks down at the village with the local fisherman? Throw back a bit of their moonshine?”

“As a matter of fact, while Lily and I were waiting for the catamaran this morning, we met a nice couple staying on the island as well.”

“Please don’t tell me they’re on their honeymoon,” Dahlia groans.

“No. They’re the young and beautiful type. Usually people like that annoy me. Flashing their money and connections everywhere. But I can tolerate them for a night. The guy’s a super hunky Aussie,” Vi winks. “The woman’s absolutely stunning, a Malay mix of some sort. But they have some friends coming over from Bali or whatever to stay so they invited us over to meet them.”

“Guys or girls or both?” Dahlia grills. Not feeling up for socializing at all.

“All of the above. Let’s hope the guys are as cute as the man from Oz. What I wouldn’t give . . .”

Lily slaps Vi’s arm playfully. “When is sex not on your mind, Vi? It sure isn’t on Dahlia’s.”

Vi laughs. “No, but a good fuck could be great therapy. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a good lay, darlings. Clears the head.”

“Another glass of champagne?” The young woman asks Dahlia eagerly, holding a bottle of Krug Private Cuvée. Dahlia smiles at her sweetly and holds out her glass. Vi’s description of her didn’t do the woman justice. Naomi is one of the most stunning women Dahlia’s ever seen. Standing at almost six feet tall, her skin is dewy and smooth as porcelain. She has large gold green eyes, and thick dark hair that’s gathered elegantly at the nape of her neck. Her long arms and legs give her a swan-like quality.

Dahlia couldn’t wait for the requisite two hours to pass before she could politely leave the party. She looks around the house, which is twice the size of the one she’s staying in. The décor is ultra-modern sleek with poured concrete floors and stainless steel everywhere. The only hint of color and warmth are on the walls, with vibrant artwork adorning each one.

The gathering feels more like a boarding school reunion than a party. Naomi and her boyfriend, Ethan, invited twenty of their closest friends they introduced as friends from
his
boarding school days at Charterhouse in England and
her
years at Le Rosey, a top boarding school in Switzerland. It was like a who’s who of fashionable twenty-something’s from around the world that would be featured in
Tatler
. It only serves to make Dahlia feel more like an outsider.

She glances over at Vi who’s reclining comfortably in a corner of the white sitting room with a rugged Australian surfer who lives on Bali, a childhood friend of Ethan’s. Vi homed in on him the moment they arrived, whispering to the twins that she had yet to bed someone who looked like Gerard Butler. So much for any hope that Vi could rescue her from the awkward conversation she was having with a group of young women from Hong Kong, all of whom are in relationships, and talking about impending engagements and nuptials. Talk of future and marriage begins to grate on Dahlia who has no interest in either. She excuses herself and escapes to the nearby kitchen that’s bustling from energy with the cook and servers working at a frenetic pace.

“I can see you’re having a good time.”

Dahlia turns toward the voice. Kai is standing on the other side of the counter top, a beer in hand. His washed-out blue t-shirt fits him so perfectly that Dahlia can’t help but notice his well-defined chest and abs.

She returns his smile, relieved to see a friendly face. She scans the group of people behind Kai and notices Lily talking to Ethan and a few of his friends out on the terrace wearing a strained smile.
She must be equally miserable
.

“What are you doing here?” Dahlia asks.

Kai takes a pull on his beer. “I was here earlier in the day supervising the set up and the kitchen staff.” He nods at the spread of food covering every inch of space in the kitchen. “They invited me to stay on a bit, but I can’t say it’s my scene.”

“Can’t say it’s mine either,” Dahlia replies dryly.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a young jet-setter or something?”

“Says who? I don’t see myself the way these people do. They buy into their image, but it’s all just surface.”

“So why are you here then?”

Dahlia shrugs. “Vi wanted to socialize a bit. I think she was getting a bit tired of just hanging around us.”

Kai laughs. “Yeah, I see she’s met Ollie.”

“You know him?” Dahlia’s curiosity is peaked.

Kai nods. “Surfs out in Padang over on Bali. Knew him when I lived out there.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“Too hectic over on Bali. I like the peace and quiet of the island.” Kai pauses to speak to the cook. When he turns back to Dahlia he says, “Let me show you something.”

Kai leads Dahlia away from the party to a small, non-descript door on the other side of the house. It could easily be mistaken for a coat closet, except it opens onto a narrow footpath. “This is the service entrance,” he explains. “As you know, the houses are mostly glass, but the owner built this one a bit differently.”

“Why?”

“For his mistress.”

Dahlia laughs. She can’t help herself. Sneaking around the side of the house reminds her of the many times in high school when she’d slip out of their apartment through the maid’s quarters. Not that she really needed to since her parents weren’t home much. But there’s something about breaking rules and defying expectation that always gave her a bit of a rush.

“Where are we going?” She asks.

“You’ll see,” Kai replies, turning back at her and smiling, his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw illuminated by the Moroccan lanterns hanging from the trees.

“Does the owner still come here with his mistress?” She asks, stumbling over rocks on the path that’s become steeper.

Kai shakes his head. “He was some Singaporean billionaire who bought the island as a retreat for his family. Every member got his or her own house. Turns out he was sleeping with his wife’s sister. Needless to say, she caught them out here. His wife got the island in the divorce.”

Dahlia stops cold in her tracks. The story’s an uncomfortable reminder of what she had done to Lily. While she could justify sleeping with Lily’s fiancé, Jack, to get her sister to see what a cheater he was, it was still a betrayal that broke her sister’s heart. Thankfully Lily forgave her. Dahlia shakes her head to rid herself of the memory. She laments the reckless person she’d been the past several years. 

“Are you okay?” Kai asks. “We’re almost there.”

Dahlia smiles and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She takes a deep breath, realizing they must’ve been walking for at least fifteen minutes. “You’re not bringing me out here to kill me or anything?”

Kai laughs. “I’m not sure why you seem inclined to think the worst of me. I don’t see how I could’ve given you the impression that I’m some nefarious guy.” He holds out his hand to help her over a deep crevice.

“I don’t need any help,” Dahlia insists, leaping over the crack. Just as she’s about to land, her right foot slips out from under her. She reaches out her hands to try to catch herself. Luckily, Kai grabs hold of her arm and reaches for the other one to pull her up.

Dahlia lets go of his hand and smoothes out her blue silk Isabel Marant dress. Adrenalin from the near fall courses through her, making her hands shake. “If I’d known I was going to go hiking I would’ve worn better shoes,” she notes, taking off her gold Prada sandals.

Without replying, Kai turns around and shakes his head, clearly exasperated by Dahlia’s stubbornness. He continues to lead her up the steep path until they reach a clearing. The view takes Dahlia’s breath away.

In front of them lies a waterfall unlike anything she’s ever seen. Buried within the tropical forest, the approximately forty-foot waterfall drops into a beautiful pool. A sliver of moonlight over the water gives it an iridescent quality.

“It’s stunning,” she whispers.

Kai smiles. “Worth your near-death experience?”

Dahlia laughs quietly and nods. “Totally worth it. Why did you bring me here?”

He shrugs. “You strike me as someone who would appreciate something like this.” The sincerity in his voice stirs a longing in Dahlia. She feels her heart begin to race.

“We should go back,” he says, a few minutes later. “The mosquitoes will eat us alive if we stay out here too long.”