Vanity (17 page)

Good God, the legs too. How could he not have noticed the legs before?

‘What has happened to us?' Ben asked. ‘Half an hour ago, I was a different person.'

‘My life will never be the same,' said Natalia simply. While she meant it with all her heart, none of this really felt as if it were happening to
her
, Natalia Evanovitch. It was a magical dream, a dream from which she never wanted to wake.

They kissed some more, under the palm trees and the stars and the warm French sky.

‘I don't even know your name,' said Ben, pushing a stray strand of blonde hair away from her face as he gazed into her slanty, wide-apart eyes.

‘I'm Natalia. Natalia Evanovitch.' She kissed him again, feeling young and skittish, like the teenager she'd never been allowed to become.

‘I'm Ben. Ben Jones.'

And suddenly Natalia realized why she recognized him. Ben Jones. He was the bastard who had fucked things up between Poppy and Damian and Bella last year. The bastard who had broken Bella's heart, been responsible for Poppy's near-demise and nearly ruined Damian's life. The bastard who cared for nobody but himself. She had seen him once before, at Bella's exhibition last year.
That
was where she knew him from.

She pulled away abruptly.

‘What's the matter?'

‘You must go.'

‘Natalia.' Ben reached out and ran his finger down her cheek, smiling. ‘You don't need to get cold feet. This is real. It's happening, and it's real.'

‘It was real before I knew who you were.' Natalia grabbed his hand and shoved it away from her cheek. ‘Do the names Poppy, Damian and Bella mean anything to you?'

And before he could answer, she had disappeared onto her yacht.

Ben was dancing with a couple of supermodels at Les Caves du Roy, the ultimate St Trop club, located in the basement of the legendary Byblos hotel. Any man on the planet would be happy to be in his shoes, but his heart wasn't in it. All he could think of was
Natalia
. What fucking bad luck it was that she knew the people he had shafted so badly last year, his erstwhile friends. Having seen her look of contempt as she pushed him away, Ben had done a lot of soul searching, and not come to any pleasing conclusions.

The memory of last night simply wouldn't leave him, despite the ludicrous beauty of the women gyrating around him. That kiss. Those kisses. That back. The balmy air. For the first time in his life he had actually felt a connection with somebody, rather than just the thrill of the chase, which was starting to get a little dull. For most of his life, the sexual encounters he'd had had been a reflection of his own gorgeousness, affirmation that he was what all women wanted.

But last night had been different. He had actually
cared
about Natalia.

All the crew were having the time of their lives in the club, which, if you were into Eurotrash clubbing, was pretty unbeatable. The opulently kitsch decor hadn't been changed since the seventies, the women were beyond beautiful, and thousands of euros were changing hands with every round of drinks bought. Everybody was now dancing with hands in the air to an early nineties house anthem, several well-oiled girls clambering onto tables to draw attention to their lithe young bodies.

Ben could bear it no longer, so he kissed the nearest supermodel on the cheek, telling her he had to go for a pee. As he walked outside he felt enormous relief that he was free again. Everybody seemed to want a piece of him, now he was on the verge of proper fame. He lit a fag and started to walk back in the direction of the port, still thinking about Natalia; her back, her legs, the way her soft lips felt as she kissed him back with such unexpected passion.

He walked towards Sénéquier, remembering the events of the previous night all too vividly. The waiters were closing up now, stacking tables and chairs, all looking forward to a well-deserved night's sleep. But Ben could do with one more drink. Just the one, a strong one, to ease himself into oblivion. He walked inside to the bar, and saw … Oh, God, he would recognize that back anywhere, and it was convulsed with sobs, her lovely slender shoulders heaving as she blew her nose into a paper napkin.

‘Natalia? Oh, my darling, oh, Jesus, what's wrong,
sweetheart
, tell me, please.'

Natalia didn't respond, just sank gratefully into his strong arms as he kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.

Ben sat down in the chair next to her.

‘OK, you probably think I'm a complete bastard. And you're right, I have no excuses for my behaviour last year. But last night was magical and I can't bear to see you like this. Would you like a drink? Ricard?' His beautiful face was disconcertingly close, one arm around her shoulder.

Natalia laughed through her tears.

‘You remembered.'

‘I will never forget anything about last night.'

Ben hailed a waiter and asked for two Ricards.

‘Sorry,' he said to the garçon. ‘I know you want to go home. But I think this lady needs a bit of liquid comfort.'

‘
Oui oui, bien sûr.
'

Once their drinks were on the table, Ben looked once more at Natalia and said,
‘Do you want to tell me? Surely worse things have happened at sea …'

Natalia had no idea why she told him, why she felt she could trust him. With some of the information, anyway.

‘I am being blackmailed.'

‘Fucking hell. What for?' As he clocked her terrified look again, he forced himself to shut up, dying though he was with curiosity.

‘You mind if I don't tell you?'

‘Of course not. But I think I need to escort you back to your yacht, at the very least.'

Natalia smiled at him again and Ben felt his heart melt. That little gap between her teeth, the chink in the ice-queen armour, would get him every time.

‘Thank you.'

They drank their drinks, which seemed to perk Natalia up a bit, then walked, hand-in-hand, towards her yacht.

‘I …' She looked all shy again, her eyes red from crying. ‘I thank you.'

‘Do you want me to come in with you? Nothing dodgy, I promise. I just want to look after you.'

And for some reason, again, she trusted him.

‘Maybe you just hug me tonight?'

Ben could do that. Shagging women who were crying their eyes out didn't really turn him on. Even if they did look like Natalia.

When Natalia woke up, she was still being cuddled from behind. Ben, the handsome movie actor, was snoring slightly. He had been as good as his word, and not even removed his clothes. She had had the best night's sleep for years, protected from all the horrors out there by his strong, masculine arms. She looked at him as he slept, just trying to absorb the man's amazing beauty.

Make the most of it while you can, Talia. Your life has no happy endings.

As though he could feel her gaze, Ben's eyes started to open, and he sat up straight, yawning. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around.

‘Fab boat, Nat. You feeling a bit better today?'

He sensed he had to play it a bit cool.

‘Yes, thank you. But don't you have to go to work? For the
film
?' All her favourite movies were floating around in her head, and now she had a proper film star on her boat, seemingly in no hurry whatsoever to get back to filming.

‘Nope, day off,' said Ben. ‘Tell you what, why don't we just have a day out of time? Get to know each other a bit better?'

Natalia looked out of one of the portholes and saw that it was yet another incredible day. The deep blue sea was glistening, the sky almost as deep a hue. She felt happy, despite Georgiou and his blackmail.
Fuck him
.

‘That sounds wonderful.'

‘Oh, I love this so so much!' Natalia shouted over the air, as the speedboat galloped over waves, splashing water in their faces. Her legs, in a tiny pink miniskirt, went on forever; her smile seemed to light up Ben's world.

‘D'you like fairgrounds too?' he shouted.

‘Oh, my God, yes, rollercoasters, valtzers, all of them! All those things make you feel alive, don't you think? Speed and being turned upside down and round and round! I love it all!' Her blonde hair was taken by the wind, her face aglow.

‘Me too! I love all that stuff – never understood people who say it makes them feel sick.'

‘Oh, not me, I am never sick.'

Natalia smiled again and Ben realized that whatever he thought he had felt for anybody in his previous life was utterly meaningless.

Once Natalia had agreed to spend the day with him, Ben had decided to take control. He remembered a beautiful island, the Île du Levant, that he and his drama-school mates had picnicked on, all those years ago, and reckoned it would be a lovely, romantic place to take his Hitchcock blonde. They had gone to the covered market in Saint-Tropez to buy lettuce, tomatoes so ripe they looked as if they might burst, some ham and a baguette, still warm from the
boulangerie's oven. Neither of them needed more food than this. In fact, most of the baguette would probably remain untouched, but it smelled amazing and looked appropriately Gallic (or possibly phallic) sticking out of its paper bag.

Pavel, Ben's director, had a speedboat that he was happy to lend his supporting actor on his day off, and here they were, racing across the sparkling sea, which gradually, as they approached the island, started to change from deep navy to a vivid clear turquoise.

‘Beautiful,' said Natalia, as the island rose from the water to greet them, all rocky coves, powdery white beaches and lush, pine-covered hills. They drew up at the jetty, moored the speedboat and stepped onto land.

NUDISME OBLIGATOIRE proclaimed an enormous sign.

‘Ah,' said Ben. ‘I promise it wasn't
obligatoire
when I came here before.' Oh, for fuck's sake, how could he have forgotten the nudists? He was almost convinced that he and his RADA mates hadn't been sitting around in the altogether as they discussed Beckett, Stoppard and Pinter with the earnest pretension of the young, making one another laugh with Pinteresque pauses. But they had been very stoned a lot of the time back then. Hence the Pinteresque pauses, he supposed. In retrospect.

Natalia was going to think this was a really ghastly ploy of his to persuade her to get her kit off.

But when he looked at her again, she was laughing and pulling her top over her head.

‘I'll do it if you will.'

‘OK.'

He took his shorts off, trying not to gawp at her
amazingly
long, lean body. Natalia, meanwhile, was trying not to look at Ben's cock, which was just as staggeringly perfect as the rest of him.

Two families that were clearly English – two mothers, two fathers and several burnt, freckly children – walked past, laden with beach bags, towels, hats, buckets and spades, trying to hide their bodies behind lilos. They looked hideously embarrassed to have ended up on an island where nudism was
obligatoire
, but, Blitz spirit intact, were not going to head back to their villa with their tails between their legs. So to speak.

‘Can I still wear my armbands, Mummy?' asked a little boy.

Natalia looked at Ben and started laughing so much, utterly uninhibited by her exquisite nakedness, that it took every bit of strength he had, naked himself, not to get the most enormous hard-on.

As they walked to the nearest beach, Natalia and Ben simply couldn't take their eyes off one another. They were, without a doubt, the most beautiful people on the island; they looked exactly how everybody else wished they could look naked.

The beach was crystalline white, the sky a darker blue than it had any right to be in the middle of the day. A yoga class was taking place next to some rocks, its
humourless d
ownward-dog-performing participants seeming to care little for the fact that their dangly and not so private bits were way more visible than was considerate to others. Even for a nudist beach.

Ben and Natalia looked at each other and burst out laughing again. But as they looked into each other's eyes, the laughter ebbed away, and they just gazed some more.

‘Swim?' said Natalia, trying to diffuse the lust engulfing her. She smiled over her shoulder as she ran down to the water's edge.

‘Can't think of anything I'd like better,' said Ben, almost truthfully, as he followed a few paces behind so he could watch her bottom moving.

Natalia swam underneath for some time, feeling a little more compos mentis now. But once she had swum quite a distance from the shore, where it was only just shallow enough for her to stand with her head above water, Ben swam up behind her and put his hand between her legs.

She turned around slowly. Now her hair was wet and all her make-up had been washed off, he could see tiny little freckles on her nose. There were droplets of salt water on her eyelashes. He increased the pressure from his hand between her legs and Natalia groaned.

‘Oh, my God, what are you doing to me, Mr Movie Star?' The sun was beating down on their golden heads without remorse.

Ben looked so handsome, with his gorgeous blue eyes and seal-like wet hair and perfectly formed shoulders just visible as they emerged from the sea, that she still couldn't believe what was happening to her, but she closed her mind to any potential repercussions and just went with it. Surely it wasn't possible for a man to be so beautiful, so sexy, so
fucking kind
? She put his behaviour last year out of her head and concentrated instead on the Ben she had come to know over the last couple of days.

Ben played with Natalia under the water a little more, still looking straight into her eyes with his extraordinary blue gaze. But, as she started to breathe more quickly, she noticed some small kids, only about 6 or 7 years old,
swimming
around close to them.