Page 60 of Savage Obsession

I’ve never flown first class before, but I could get used to it. The seats are wide, luxuriously upholstered, with acres of legroom. The smiling cabin crew flit back and forth offering food, drinks, cushions, complimentary toiletries, and even a dressing gown and slippers. I have my own personal TV screen and a choice of up-to-the-minute blockbuster movies to help pass the time.

Lily is in her element, thumbing wide-eyed through the in-flight sales brochure. “Look! Yves St Laurent perfume. It’s only a hundred euros.”

I groan inwardly, while Baz feigns interest. “That stuff is even cheaper on the island.”

“But I like looking at it.”

“No harm in that.” He settles back and closes his eyes. “Wake me up when we’re about to land.”

Lily and I spend the next few hours flicking through the glossy magazine and channel-hopping. It’s a companionable respite, and despite my inner churning, her enthusiasm is infectious.

“He seems nice,” she whispers. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me see him before.”

“It was complicated,” I begin, but it sounds less and less convincing with every repeat. “I was going to…”

“Do you suppose he has a house? Or a flat? Does he live near the beach?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never?—”

“Look at that.” She gasps, awestruck, the magazine open on her lap. “That’s the main beach at Playa de las Americas. I want to go there.”

“I daresay we can…”

“And there. See that?” She thrusts another sun-kissed paradise under my nose. “They have jet skis, and you can do scuba diving.”

“You’d need to learn to swim first.”

She dismisses my concerns with a flick of her wrist. “It won’t be deep. I’ll need a new bikini. I’m going to ask my dad…”

Yeah, right. Here we go.

With an uncanny sixth sense, Baz opens his eyes just as the pilot turns on the seat belt sign for landing. Lily fires questions at him as we descend into Tenerife-Sur airport, which he fields effortlessly.

First-class or not, I still grit my teeth as we rattle along the runway, then finally come to a halt. I doubt if I’ll ever become convinced that flying is a natural state for human beings. My mood isn’t helped by the fact that it’s just after seven in the morning and I haven’t had a wink of sleep all night.

Baz, by contrast, seems fresh as a daisy. He retrieves our flight bag from the overhead locker, passes Lily her backpack, and leads the way down the aisle to the exit.

A blast of warm air hits us as soon as we leave the aircraft. I gasp. “Is it always so hot?”

“It gets hotter,” Baz informs us. “It’s still early.” He eyes my light sweater with sympathetic amusement. “You’ll want to go shopping for something more suited to the climate.”

“You don’t say,” I mutter. “Can we get out of this heat? Where are the taxis?”

“I arranged for a car. Don’t worry, it has air conditioning. We just need to get through border control and customs, then we’ll be away.” He strides off in the direction of the terminal building, Lily close on his heels, still chattering twenty to the dozen.

The airport building is luxuriously cool, and we pass through seamlessly. I get the impression Baz is a familiar face and the formalities are just that—a formality. We emerge into the baking sunshine to find a sleek limousine waiting for us right outside. The driver hops out, bows to Baz, then opens the rear door.

“Thank you, Aleksy.” Baz acknowledges the man, then shepherds me and Lily into the rear seat.

We sink into the buttery softness of the leather upholstery, soothed by the gentle coolness of the air-conditioned vehicle.

“There are drinks in the fridge, there, if you want anything. Oh, and seat belts are compulsory here. The journey will take about half an hour.” Baz takes the front seat, next to the driver. “Los Viñedos, please.”

“Where are we going?” I demand.

“My hacienda,” he replies. “You’ll like it.”

“What’s a hacienda?”

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