Page 109 of Whirlwind

“Thanks. This is Violet. Violet, Kaspar.”

“Hello.” Kaspar dipped his head, the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen smiled at me.

Beck said, “Kaspar is performing at a club here this week and Tag will be filming it, producing his new music video.”

“Lars just told me all about it. Very exciting.”

“You’ll be here for it, yes?” said Kaspar.

“Oh yes,” said Beck.

“Good, good. We should talk.” He squeezed Beck’s arm.

The dishes were cleared, desserts arrived, more champagne, brandy. I could only imagine what this was costing. No, I couldn’t. And it just didn’t matter.

The food, the wine, the sea lapping on the sand only yards away, the Greek music filling the air, the soft lighting, Beck’s kisses on my shoulder, all of it was a feast for hungry senses.

And I’d never realized how badly my senses were starved.

42

Violet

Dinner was overand we got into taxis and cars and headed for the main town on the island, where Beck and I had strolled around earlier.

Now, hours later, it was jammed. So jammed it reminded me of the streets of Sturgis during the bike festival. Thick crowds snaked through the winding stone streets. Wall to wall people all dressed up, thrilled to see and more thrilled be seen.

We made it to Alessio’s small boutique where the Savage Souls collection was now for sale. Beck and I huddled together outside on the corner with Lars and Stone, drinking wine. Adri headed this special event, and she and Alessio and Tag had their photos taken with many different glamorous people of all ages. She introduced Tag to each and every one of these international glitterati—a movie star from France, several young royals from Germany, a Brazilian super model and her tennis star husband, a handsome Greek pop star and his TV talk show hostess girlfriend.

Paparazzi and the hired photographers for the evening took loads of shots of these guests talking and posing with Tag and Alessio and Adri as they looked at the jewelry together. The paps continually called out Adri’s name. Obviously, she was a celebrity, too. Gabriella and Irina each wore necklaces and bracelets and posed with Alessio and Tag for the photogs.

Although it was way after midnight, the Greek island night was still very, very young, and we jetted off to the nightclub where Kaspar would be performing the day after tomorrow. The club was crowded, electric dance beats thumping along with colored lights.

The fervent crowd danced on an enormous multi-level courtyard that opened to the sea along with a stage platform which had been raised right over the water. This was a venue unlike anything I’d ever experienced in my concert-going life.

Kaspar and Tag were recognized and people around them erupted with fan joy. Beck took my hand and led me away from the brouhaha and onto the dance floor. I’d never gone for this sort of dance music, and here I was in this surreal nightclub on an island in the Aegean Sea, dancing to a Greek song, my body loose with booze, vibrating with the exotic melodic beat. With Beck.

My whole body hummed as Beck brought me in close to his. All my muscles melted into his rhythm as his torso, those hips moved against mine. The two of us, molten and fluid. We were one as we danced in the beat, danced through the intense heat between us in the thick throng of people, all of us, celebrating in the flashing waves of colored light.

Eventually we found Tag and company on a sectioned off terrace for VIPs. Separate tents, each with a number of low sofas, chairs, and a table. A plush Bedouin camp from some exotic Arabian fairy tale. We sat on a pink sofa, enjoying the view of the crowd below, and Beck settled into a conversation with Kaspar.

“I’m going to find the ladies room,” I whispered in his ear, a hand on his leg.

He squeezed my hand. “Okay.”

I took off in the direction Adri had told me earlier, up a pathway highlighted by palm trees lit with tiny sparkling lights. I found it and, luckily, there was no line, only a bunch of hot, sweaty, young things reapplying their lipsticks and talking excitedly.

I got my business done and washed my hands. Dabbing on fresh lipgloss, I checked myself out in the mirror. Hot, sweaty, and certainly excited.

I strode back out into the glittery wonderland that was this beach club and laughed to myself. I’d found the secret passage through the wardrobe into my very own beguiling, magical Narnia. Hadn’t I always wanted that as a little girl?

There you go, Violet. Dreams do come true.

My left foot slid on an uneven patch of stone, and I lost my footing, swiveling on my ankle. “Ah shit.” I leaned over and rubbed away the sting of pain. The ground tilted. “Oh…” I lost my balance again.

A powerful grip took hold of my arm and hoisted me upright. “Hey, you okay?” A deep American voice had me blinking in the shadows.

A very tall, very muscly dude had grabbed my arm. All American brawn with big melted caramel eyes. Tattoos swirled across his tanned arms, across his chest, a broad sculpted chest which was obvious from his taut V-neck T-shirt.

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