Sin Tropez (20 page)

Gregory put the knife slowly back down on the counter. Natalya exhaled audibly, but still did not dare to scream.

‘H-h-how did you get in here?’

‘Thought you were clever, didn’t you, you bitch, changing the locks so I wouldn’t be able to get at you. Well it’s a good thing your friendly concierge knows who I
am.’

‘Gregory, please, let me go, you’re hurting me, I … Can’t we sit down and talk about this properly?’

‘How could you do this to me? Not now, after everything I’ve done for you?’ He released Natalya from his grip and fell against the counter sobbing uncontrollably.

Natalya edged slowly away. She was very shaken, but also disgusted by the sight of his puny frame, quivering in the corner of her kitchen as he wailed like a little girl.

‘Who is he, Natalya? You have to tell me.’

‘You would never leaf your wife for me. You can’t. I need to move on, Gregory, I’m not the girl I was when you met me.’

‘I’ll kill him. Tell me who he is, where did you meet him?’

Natalya thought quickly. ‘He is in property, we met in St Tropez. His wife died, Gregory. He is lonely, and he wants a new family.’

Gregory frowned at this and Natalya went on, hastily, ‘You and I would drive each other crazy; we do, and you know it. There is no future for the two of us, Gregory. Please, just let me
try to be happy with somebody of my own.’

Gregory stood and lunged, as though he was about to hit her.

‘Don’t!’ she shouted. ‘If you hurt me now, there are witnesses. The concierge knows you are here. You can leaf now. Go back to your pregnant wife and she will never know
what you hef done to her.’

That seemed to hit a nerve with Gregory. He stopped in his tracks and looked away.

‘Well, give me back all the jewellery then. And you’d better get the hell out of this flat. Just see how long your new man will support you after he gets bored of fucking you.
You’ll be back.’

‘I don’t hef your jewellery.’

‘What do you mean YOU DON’T FUCKING HAVE MY JEWELLERY?’

‘I don’t hef it, Gregory! I don’t hef it. I gave it to my mother in Latvia.’

Gregory walked slowly towards her and grabbed her once more by the neck.

‘You listen to me, you whore. I pity you. You’re gonna be trampled on and used and abused. You’d better steal a hell of a lot more from this sucker than you’ve stolen
from me all these years because you have nothing. Nothing! You’re gonna get old. And ugly. You’ll be alone, and what will you do for money then? You’re already losing your looks
– you’re nothing like the beauty I met five years ago. You and this cunt deserve each other.’

He threw Natalya across the room, turned on his heel and walked out of the apartment.

As soon as his footsteps faded from earshot, Natalya rose and slammed the door shut, leaning her back against it. She closed her eyes and imagined what he might have done if she hadn’t
thought quickly and brought his wife into it. The man had left her with many bruises in the past, but he was weak, and terrified of his wife – and her minor fortune – leaving him for
good.

She bent to retrieve her letters and for the second time in half an hour was stricken with panic. There, underneath her telephone bill, was a plain white envelope bearing her name in that
peculiar handwriting. Shaking, she ripped open the envelope with her brown, manicured fingertips.

Its contents were as vile as the first one.

Hurling the letter against the wall, Natalya burst into tears. As she tried to gulp down the sobs that threatened to overwhelm her, she realized this was the first time she had completely let go
since she had arrived, alone, in London six years earlier. Crumpled on the floor, her slight frame shook as she wept. Who would do this?

Panicked now, she ran back to the door and double-locked and bolted it. Her heart was thumping; she had never been so petrified. She took a breath and tried to focus. Who could be sending these
letters? Not Claude or Gregory, surely. One of the first things Natalya had learnt about men was not to give away more than the bare minimum of information. Not only did it keep them intrigued and
keen, it kept her protected. They could not know her past to use it against her and she could disappear from their lives in the blink of an eye. One moment she would be the centre of their
universe, and the next, she would be gone.

No. She knew that the letter could only be from
him.
The person she had really been thinking of when she’d said yes to the model scouts. The man she had come to England to
find
.
Her father. Now, somehow, he had found her, and he wanted her out of his life. He wanted no record of her; of his dreadful history. Natalya shivered. He wanted her dead.

Part Two

‘This is insane!’ Abena shrieked as she climbed out of Henry’s convertible and followed him and Tara into Reza’s villa.

‘I can’t believe we’re back in St Tropez again!’ Tara agreed. ‘Henry, you could have given us some notice – I haven’t even had time for a
wax!’

Henry laughed. ‘Sorry, girls, but Reza only decided to sail her here a few days ago. We were in Sardinia all last week for the first launch parties, and of course we’ve had to keep
everything hush hush as we haven’t finished arranging all the licences.

‘A floating nightclub – amazing! I can NOT wait for the party later!’ Abena enthused.

‘Hell YEAH, baby! And we’ve decided to call the club
Sin
. Reza liked
The Sea-Stalking Stallion
, but boats are female really, aren’t they?’

‘So come on, what’s the deal – how much is membership? Who are the founding members? I know Sebastian is dying to join!’

‘I’ll definitely see what strings I can pull for
him,
sweetheart. I’ll smuggle him onboard inside my wetsuit if I have to. Reza wants word to spread amongst those who
can afford it, but he’s told me not to sell any memberships for the first few months, to get people hungry. When they do go on sale, membership will be five-hundred grand a pop and obviously
based on referral. Members can stay on the boat whenever they wish and the party never stops. There’s dance music at night, lounge music by day, live performances, non-stop first-rate haute
cuisine, booze or whatever else one might wish for …’ Henry broke off. ‘Sorry, I sound like a brochure don’t I? But I tell you, this place is going to blow your Jimmy Choos
off. We’ve already turned away interest from a state president because Reza didn’t think he was influential enough! What these boys will get for their membership is the chance to
socialize with the brightest and the best in a secure, exclusive environment, away from the paparazzi, away from the tax man and away from their wives.’ Henry smirked. ‘But there are
only three founding members at the moment. There’s Reza himself, of course, then there’s a financier and co-investor in the club called Bertrand Brampton Amis, and the third member is
… yours truly.’ He puffed out his chest proudly.

A maid appeared out of nowhere with a tray and three glasses of champagne and they each thanked her and reached for one. ‘To
Sin
,’ they roared, holding their glasses high
above their heads.

A few minutes later a horn tooted in the driveway.

‘Oh. My. God.’ Henry raced to the window and pressed his nose against the glass in time to see Sebastian Spectre pull up in a vintage sports car, looking like a forties movie star
with swept back hair and dark glasses. Sebastian jumped out of the car, stormed in through the open front door and grabbed Abena’s hand without bothering to say hello.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Sebastian said.

‘B-but we’ve got to get ready for the party tonight. It starts in an hour!’ Abena protested.

‘We’re going for a swim first,’ Sebastian grinned, pulling Abena out and back towards his car. ‘We’ll meet you guys on the boat,’ he called over his shoulder
at a swooning Henry and bitterly jealous Tara. There was no sign of Alex.

‘Darling, can you sort me out a little something for tonight?’ Tara wandered over to the window to join Henry.

‘Leave it with me,’ he replied. ‘You sure can get through that stuff can’t you?’

‘Not really!’ Tara retorted. ‘I mean, I never really buy – just do the odd line at parties if I’m offered it. Well,
sometimes
I buy, but I take it with all
my friends. It’s a perfectly civilized and social thing to do. And anyway everyone and his dog does coke these days, it’s not like I’m out robbing old ladies.’ She laughed
shrilly. ‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Henry said.

‘Well then why are you looking at me like that?’

‘Come on, get ready my love, it’s nearly time to go. I’m going to check on the Frenchies then come back for you.’

Tara felt great as she arrived at the harbour in the early evening, dressed in a Grecian-style draped ivory silk dress and flat jewelled sandals. She was to take a speedboat
out to the club – Sin was far too big, not to mention exclusive, to be moored in the port. A gentle wind tousled the sea and as her boat surged forward, lurching on the uneven water, flecks
of spray hit Tara’s face and her dress billowed in the breeze. She felt exhilarated and free.

There must have been two hundred people on the boat already when Tara arrived at
Sin
. Not that it felt like a boat. The wide jet-black deck was furnished with long, black, luxuriously
soft outdoor sofas that curved around the gleaming black sides of the ship, beneath its solid-gold gunwales. Tara pushed her way into the covered central area, wondering how on earth she’d
find Abena in the crowd. Inside, the walls were also jet black, and the crystals and mirrors embedded in the padded silk gave it a clubby feel. An oval bar, also apparently of solid gold, dominated
the immense space. Behind it an army of busy bar staff were preparing fantastically outlandish cocktails. Tara watched, riveted, as pure cocoa was melted into a glass of champagne and sprinkled
with what looked like pepper. Circling the bar a flashing revolving dance floor moved in time to the music. It was spinning slowly but Tara had a feeling things would get faster as the night
progressed. There were excited whispers that Jay-Z and Beyoncé were to perform later. The whole boat buzzed with suspense, as though everybody was waiting for something.

Behind the bar Tara could see a casino. The only people who had been allowed to wear bikinis instead of party dress were the girls handing out complimentary chips to Reza’s guests. She
wandered over to the blackjack table and a pretty girl gave her a gold case. Tara laughed at her own naivety when she realized that the bikini was in fact painted on, and the girl was naked. She
was about to start a game when there was an announcement over the speakers.

‘Will all guests please proceed to the front deck.’

Tara stashed the case in her bag and followed the throng out on to the deck.

At once all the lights went out and there was an awed hush. The sea seemed to part as a sleek black speedboat charged towards the big yacht. Behind it, an upright figure, his head haloed in
light, appeared to walk on water. It was Reza, illuminated by a strong spotlight fixed to the boat, balancing on a single golden water-ski and clutching a golden tow-rope in the boat’s wake.
He twisted and turned skilfully, easily manipulating the ski. His hair blew in the wind and his body, tense with thrill and exertion in a skin-tight wetsuit, was so low to the sea that he was
almost horizontal as he zigzagged over its surface.

A DJ activated the outdoor speakers with the press of a button and a deep voice thundered out: ‘Introducing … REZA! Billionaire! Philanthropist! Visionary! And founder of …
SIN
!’

The guests stomped and clapped in appreciation, whooping and cheering. Tara was laughing so hard, her cocoa-and-pepper-cocktail came out through her nose. Oh where was Abena!

‘Fuck. There she is!’ Tara covered her mouth with her hand as, right behind Reza, and completely ruining the effect of his grand entrance, Sebastian and Abena, dressed in casual
beachwear, motored up to the floating club astride a jet ski. Abena sat cringing behind Sebastian as over two hundred surprised faces peered out at them. They overtook Reza, now in his speedboat,
and climbed aboard the yacht. They’d obviously just been swimming. Sebastian shook his head and slicked back his wet, dark hair with his hands. He looked deadly in swimming trunks and a blue
cotton shirt that clung damply to his perfect torso. Abena looked dreadful. Her hair dripped down in wet tails either side of her face, framing her mascara, which now ran in dark lines down her
cheeks. Her nose was running, she had salt in her eyes and her sundress stuck unflatteringly to her bottom.

‘Erm, sorry,’ she muttered to nobody in particular as Sebastian sauntered off in search of a drink.

Tara grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her aside, staring her up and down gravely. ‘Men can just pitch up on a yacht fresh from the sea, slick their hair back and look wonderful.
Women … we need things. We need hairdryers, and make-up and pretty dresses …’

‘OK OK OK. I didn’t exactly plan this. Let’s go find the loo and sort me out.’

Abena freshened up in a belted purple jumpsuit and pretty flats, then they emerged and made their way to the casino. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen so they settled down at a blackjack table.
In a fabulous run of beginner’s luck Tara kept finding herself with unbeatable hands. Abena started to think that the bikini girl dealing the cards had taken some sort of shine to Tara. After
half an hour Abena had already lost all her chips.

‘I’m off to find Sebastian,’ she said.

‘Stop mooning after him,’ Tara replied, not looking up from the game. ‘No wonder you haven’t made anything here, you’re obsessed. Look how well I’m doing
– if only this was real money!’

‘Oh it is, you can cash it in over there,’ the dealer cut in.

As Abena skipped off, Tara looked down at her £4000 worth of chips, drooling over the amount of coke that would fetch her. She strolled over to the cashier.

Abena scoured the deck but couldn’t find Sebastian. Returning to the casino, she found Tara doing the moonwalk on the revolving dance floor, singing a Michael Jackson tune to herself even
though the DJ was playing a house remix of Madonna. Reza had also hit the dance floor and to Abena’s horror was closing in on Tara, pulling the bikini girl behind him. Suddenly realizing she
was naked, Abena was shocked to see the girl grind her painted gold bottom against Tara. Distracted, Tara turned round to see Reza’s lips inches from her own.