Page 12 of Don't Bite The Boss
“Thank you,” I smile back, “and like Tristan said, everything is open to change, so if you think of anything later that you might like to add, or…”
“Oh no,” she smiles gently, “I’m sure you know what you are doing. You seem to have researched and have a real vision for restoring the villa to the way it was. I know I’m going to love the grounds, whatever you plan.”
“And do you want to schedule some deadlines?” I ask gently, talking to her in sugary-sweet small words that her girlish little pea brain might understand, “perhaps there are some areas you would like me to work on first? We can set dates where you can come and see to be sure you are happy with each stage.”
“As long as everything is finished in time for our Summer wedding, that’s all that matters,” she smiles. “I will be on tour for the next few months, I can’t take any time off, apart from the honeymoon, so everything is in your hands, and Tristan’s, oh and in Charlotte’s.”
“You’ve met Charlotte?”
“Fleur was adamant we should keep all the villa work in the family,” Tristan says, smiling down adoringly at his fiancé, “and when I mentioned Charlotte was an interior designer she was keen to have her design the rooms.”
“Well, that is terrific,” I smile, genuinely pleased that Charlotte has work to keep her busy, and interesting work at that, while Nick is out on site. I haven’t had a chance to catch up with her in person yet, she is only just getting settled in Naples and, knowing Charlotte, is busy decorating their own house to her tastes before anything else gains priority. We’d spoken a few times on the phone and planned to meet in a day or two. I have missed her terribly, just as I miss Tess and Serena. We’ve been apart here and there over the years for trips and things, but we’ve never been living in different cities for any length of time, or estranged before, as Serena and I are now. I feel more alone than I ever have.
“After all, we will soon all be family,” Fleur adds, smiling at me again.
‘Yeah. Family. God, you smile too much. I wonder if Tristan is going to tell you what his ‘family’ is before or after you marry?’
I decide, on balance, she probably couldn’t comprehend it and is better left in ignorance, and I remind myself to ask him about this at some stage. I might also remind him that the more people who know of the existence of my kind, the more dangerous the world becomes for all of us.
“Well, on that note, I should be heading back,” I quip, rising and casting a quick look at Tristan where he sits on the lounge arm, close to his fiancé.
I’m wildly and viciously jealous at the thought of her sharing his bed, his body, his life. But now, having spent a few hours with her, yeah, I get it. She’s a doll; a pretty, sweet, loving, three cookies short of a full cookie jar, blonde-angel-supermodel.
And he is absolutely and completely taken with her.
I imagine her simple outlook on life is something he really appreciates, given that he seems to mostly be surrounded, as Christopher is, by business sharks and gold-diggers, and of course, more latterly, sarcastic vampires.
‘They will have beautiful, long-legged, dumb children, and most likely be ecstatically happy for the rest of their lengthy, billionaire days.’
I watch him slip down to the couch seat beside her and put his arm around her shoulders as though she is as fragile as glass, and I feel like I’m intruding on something private, like they are in their own world. But I also feel strangely sorry for her, and it isn’t until I’m out on the street and catching a taxi to the airstrip to be taken back to Naples, that I realise why.
She reminds me of someone.
Someone Solomon took a long time ago, took and broke, like so many pretty things he coveted. She wasn’t as simple as Fleur, she had a good brain, but she was just as wholly unconnected with anything evil, as though she was set apart from everything bad on Earth. She too was very trusting, only saw the good in everything, at first.
She reminds me of Tess.
I frown and wish I could speak to Serena, to have her meet Fleur and gauge her opinion. But she still isn’t speaking to me, and anyway, she will meet the model soon enough when Tristan marries, after all, as Fleur said, she too will be family then. No, I will have to make do with what Charlotte thinks when we meet in a day or two.
As the limousine pulls out into the Parisian traffic, I, feeling maudlin, pull out the phone and dial Tess.
She makes me laugh within the first few minutes, telling me how her little pot-bellied pig, Orson, who was growing at an exponential rate despite assurances it was a miniature, ate Christopher’s favourite loafers.
I get off the phone feeling happier than I have been in days.
But it doesn’t take long for the worry to return.
6
I watch the archaeologist as he patiently and laboriously brushes the dirt away from the tiny tiles revealed three metres down in the sun-baked Earth, as he has for the past two months, and smile.
Tristan had been a little reluctant to hire a specialist, feeling that the government might become involved if the archaeological team discovered something really special. But my argument that we wouldn’t be true to the site, or its history, unless we dug a little deeper, eventually won out.
And, as usual, money talks, and he had managed to hire an American team with no Italian affiliation or, so it would seem, morals, who had no intention whatsoever of reporting anything they discovered to the authorities.
In addition, they were offered healthy bonuses to accelerate the work.
Consequently, the excavation had been undertaken day and night, allowing me to supervise, as I am tonight, under the bright lights illuminating the site, and take part in some of the diggings.
