Page 4 of An Island Promise

Diego momentarily hesitated before leading the way across the road and onto the path next to the palm tree-lined beach.

Gem hadn’t really talked to Diego. She was pretty certain Belle hadn’t done much talking with him either beyond the evening they’d first met. Gem and Laurie had put a ‘next round of drinks on you’ bet on how quickly Belle would end up kissing him. Gem had won. She’d also predicted that Belle would go home with him. She’d been right about that too. Not that she blamed her; up close, she could see how attractive he was, combined with a hell of a sexy accent. He smelled damn good too.

Even away from the lights, heat and pulsing beat of the club, her head still spun. Being outside had helped despite her drunkenness. Only Diego was the constant as they walked together, their arms occasionally brushing each other’s as people passed by too close. Was he doing all the talking or was she? She felt not quite herself, not fully present, floating on a cloud of alcohol. It was their last night on Ibiza. Even with a late flight the next day, drinking to excess probably hadn’t been the smartest move, but hey, she was only young once. Real life was calling: travelling for a few months before making career decisions and deciding where to live, the start of her grown-up life. She was determined to no longer be a poor student; she had dreams and an ambition to turn her Art and Design degree into a career in interior design. She wanted exactly what Belle and Laurie had predicted: to be her own boss, to smash at work and life, to snag her dream man. To have it all.

They made it all the way to the end of the tree-lined promenade next to the marina when Diego stopped.

‘I can walk you back to your hotel?’ he suggested. ‘Maybe they’ve gone there?’

Gem gazed at the lines of white boats glowing bright against the inky water and the entrancing lights pooling from the hotels and bars across the road. Belle hadn’t come back; Gem assumed she and Laurie were together, either still at the club or backat their hotel oblivious to her trying to call. Belle was missing her chance of one last night with Diego, while Gem didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t want to say goodbye to the freedom and hedonism of Ibiza.

‘I’m not ready for my last night to end. I want to keep partying.’ She didn’t quite know where this idea had come from. Was it because she’d had a fright and Diego had been her knight in shining armour? Or was it because she was annoyed with herself for leaving the club, and a little miffed at Belle and Laurie for disappearing, whether intentional or not? ‘Take me somewhere.’

8.20 a.m. – Gem

Gem had been awake for close to twenty-four hours, had drunk enough alcohol to open her own bar and would probably be over the limit for the next three days, and yet her ability to sleep was non-existent. She rolled onto her back. The whole night was a blur, fragmented moments with blank bits in between: Laurie looking sheet-white at the bar; Belle going to check on her, then losing them both; how vulnerable she’d felt with spotty guy and his friends before Diego had saved her.

Diego.

The dark room swirled as Gem fought back bile. She hadn’t been ready for the night to end and Diego had outdone himself, taking her to Pacha, the iconic super club that would have been out of her price range if Diego’s mate hadn’t worked there and got them in. Swept up in the euphoria of the night, she hadn’t cared where the others were while she partied into the early hours surrounded by beautiful people, Diego by her side. They’ddanced together in the main club and talked about their hopes, dreams and ambitions on the rooftop terrace. Hands down it was the best night of the holiday, probably her whole fucking life, and yet the enjoyment had been tainted by the realisation that her friends had missed out.

She hadn’t remembered leaving and had no idea of the time, just a vague recollection of being in a taxi zooming through dark streets before they’d been dropped off at an apartment block she thought was back in San Antonio. After that, there were only wisps of memories. Giggling with Diego as they’d stumbled into a room, the lamplight making her squint and head pound. Diego pouring drinks while she’d escaped to the bathroom. She’d stared at herself in the mirror, sleepy and drunken, her blonde hair tangled, a smudge of mascara beneath her eyes, her lipstick kissed off, but by who was anyone’s guess. Then she’d noticed the missed calls, a voicemail plus a message from Laurie. No, from Belle on Laurie’s phone because Gem still had hers. She hadn’t listened to the voicemail, read the message properly or bothered to reply.

She’d stumbled back into Diego’s compact room. The brief thought that drinking more was a bad idea was immediately dispersed as he’d handed her a tequila and she’d downed it.

Then the thank-yous had tumbled from her, for him giving her the best night of her life, for him saving her. He poured a second shot and her heart raced as they downed them too. Dawn had already broken, their Ibiza holiday would soon be over and in just a few hours she’d be heading home. Only temporarily, she’d told herself. She had plans, and by the end of August she’d be travelling again.

Gem had locked eyes with Diego; his were deep brown, framed by long lashes. Hot breath on her neck. A tingle as his hands settled on her hips. The brush of his lips against hers. Orwas it her lips against his? Was it their first kiss or had that already happened?

He’d manoeuvred her onto his bed, and she’d wanted it. Wanted him. She’d lost herself to his kisses and caresses. Pushing all thoughts that sleeping with him was wrong to the back of her mind, she’d said yes to everything…

Gem turned her head and tried to focus on Diego, the rise and fall of his chest with only the white sheet in the dim light covering his nakedness. She wanted to sleep, desperate to be rid of the nausea. A headache forewarned of the intensity of the hangover that was brewing. Although that was the least of her worries.

Gem tucked her arms around the pillow. It smelt of perfume and smoke. Bile climbed her throat. She shut her eyes tightly, banishing the image of Diego naked next to her. The darkness made her head feel as if it was revolving round and round, and wouldn’t stop.

She should have thanked him for saving her from the unwanted attention of those pissed-up guys and left it at that. When he’d suggested he walk her back to the hotel to see if Belle and Laurie were there, she should have agreed. Her eyes fluttered open again and the swirling eased a touch. Diego’s handsome face was outlined by the sunlight slipping through the gap in the blinds. Gem breathed deeply as she swiped away a tear. She shouldn’t be the one lying next to him flushed from the best sex of her entire life. She gulped back a sob.

Belle could never find out.

2

MAY 2023, PRESENT DAY

Belle’s hands were slick with sweat and her heart raced as she adjusted her notebook and pen and glanced at her laptop screen. Still in the Zoom-call wait room. She drummed her fingers on the kitchen table. Not one for being nervous about a job interview, she felt unusually jittery about this one because she wanted it so much. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to take the rejection and disappointment if she didn’t get it. On paper, the role of events manager at Spirit, a luxury boutique hotel on Ibiza, was perfect, the opportunity arising at exactly the right time. She’d become comfortable in her current job and had been mulling over a new challenge for a while, although her true reason for handing her notice in had moved his stuff out of her flat just weeks before. Mixing business and pleasure, or in her case having a relationship with a colleague, had been doomed from the start.

Never again.

The call started bang on time and she found herself sharing the screen with Caleb Levine, the owner of Spirit.

‘Belle, hi there.’ Caleb’s voice was deep and warm as he looked at her intently. ‘It’s good to finally meet you, not quite in person, but the next best thing.’

Belle hadn’t known what to expect. Most of what she’d found online was at least a decade old and only a few images of a clean-shaven young man. The man on screen sported thick stubble, had dark hair peppered with grey, a healthy tan and looked somewhere in his early forties. One of those men who had managed to get more handsome with age. She shuffled upright and focused her thoughts onto selling herself and not how attractive Caleb Levine happened to be. She’d chosen to sit at the kitchen table because the background was her attractive courtyard garden with the pink crab-apple blossom, but Caleb was sitting in his hotel bar, the background a pool, palm trees and the glittering sea. There was no comparison.

Her nerves began to settle as they talked. Caleb was business-like, efficient and quietly friendly as he asked about her career in marketing and events to date. He’d already sent her the details about the salary and accommodation, and she’d done her homework on Spirit too but had discovered little about him apart from that he was British and a successful entrepreneur who had lived and worked on Ibiza since his late teens.

After discussing her own experience and current position as events manager at Tockbeth Hall, a large and historic venue on the banks of the Thames, he moved the conversation on to his plans for the year.

‘We’ve recently opened our sister restaurant Serenity down the coast, plus we’ve teamed up with a couple of iconic venues so we can offer our guests different Ibiza experiences while keeping the chilled-out vibe of Spirit intact. This is all happening two months into the season and just as my events manager has had to urgently take time off. It’s only a role for the summer season, which I’m aware might not suit someone as qualified as yourself.What I’d really like to know is how you feel about the temporary nature of the position?’

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