Page 1 of Little Temptation

Chapter One

As we make our final descent, my stomach drops, and I grab the armrest, gulping a lungful of air. I’ve not flown for years – not from choice – but rather time and money.

A little round of applause sparks up as the wheels finally touch down, and I can relax; we made it in one piece. I don’t know how Grammy must have coped. She’s never been abroad before, let alone flown. So when my brother, Eric, announced his beloved wanted to get married abroad, there was some debate as to if we could even attend given the venue change, let alone afford it.

We don’t have a big family, and Grammy isn’t even our real grandmother, but it’s important she be part of this day, and we all celebrate together. I could tell my dad wanted to put his foot down, but he’s never been the disciplinarian, even when we were children. Why would it start when we’re adults? And my mother has been looking forward to all the trappings that come with a wedding since the day Eric said he wanted to ask Miriam to marry him.

I can feel the pressure for a wedding in her eyes when she looks at me, and I’m only twenty-three.

Of course, Eric had an answer to all the questions about cost. In the shape of Liam Ford.

As I wait for the seatbelt sign to go out, I think about the last time I saw Liam, the best man. It’s been years now. Maybe when he came back to visit with Eric before they went travelling together after university?

Until then, he was as much a constant in my life as my brother. Someone I grew to rely on, to trust. And to fall completely in love with.

I shake that thought away, wrestle my case out of the overhead compartment, and wait with the other impatient passengers to be released from the tin can. As we start shuffling along, I smile at the flight attendant and then take a breath as the wall of dry heat smacks me in the face.

My hands are full, and I can’t grab my sunglasses from my bag, so I squint to take my first look at the Greek island. Dry, desert-like hills greet me, and I can’t help but feel a little underwhelmed.

It’s early evening, and the sun’s starting to set. The flight was due to arrive much earlier in the day, but even Liam couldn’t control the flights. I file along and onto a bus to take me into the arrivals building. The heat clings, even at this time of day, and I can already feel sweat gathering on my chest, threatening to drip down my cleavage.

Thankfully, we are quickly whisked away, and the air conditioning of the building bathes my over-heated skin.

A firm stamp follows a speedy inspection and check of my passport, and I’m free to find my lift.

Liam has provided everything for the wedding on the island – his generous gift to my brother. The hotel is ours for the week of the wedding, including our rooms, suites, a private bay with our own beach, transport to the resort, food, and drinks… all thanks to my brother’s best friend. It’s just a shame I’m late – and not just a few hours late due to the flight delay today, but days late.

Sure enough, a man dressed in what I assume might be the hotel uniform is holding a sign with ‘Little’ printed in neat black marker. I nod and walk over, dragging my carry-on case. The name brings a smile to my lips. My driver grabs my case and heads off toward the car. It’s as if he’s the one in a rush, and I have to quicken my pace to catch up.

I’m already arriving three days later than the rest of the family and guests, so I only have a couple of days to enjoy the hospitality and celebrations. I should be grateful I made it at all, considering I’ve only just started my job, but looking at the time, I’ll be pushing it to arrive for the rehearsal dinner. I mean, it’s not a big wedding, so why do we need to rehearse, anyway?

A black, sleek-looking car, completely at odds with the rest of the rental and family vehicles, sits waiting. He opens the back door for me, and after he gets in and starts the ignition, I say a little prayer for the blast of frigid air. The sweat on my boobs is tickling, and I’m pretty sure there’s a small river working its way down my spine. My t-shirt clings to my skin as I sit back against the leather, but I accept my fate and try to get comfy.

I relax in the back of the car and gaze out the window as I’m driven to our destination. The roads are windy and small, but as I explore the landscape, I notice it’s greener than I first thought. Olive trees litter the fields against the dusty roads, and houses and shacks punctuate the countryside, some painted and finished like a Greek picture postcard, others worn and weathered by the sun.

Eric hasn’t shared much about the resort, just that it’s ours to use and, of course, five-star, so when the driver announces that we’re nearly there, I pay closer attention. We drive through a large wooden gate with a plaque on the white pillar, but I can’t make out the name. We seem to wind our way down a steep road, and I have to wonder where this hotel is because there aren’t any tavernas or restaurants nearby like any other holiday resort.

But my doubt and worry lift as we draw up to the entrance. A white-washed building emerges amongst foliage and olive trees. It looks small, but as I look around, I see a clear view through to the sea, and I catch the most perfect setting sun – golden, like fire – sinking into the ocean. I get out of the car, stand, and gaze at the view, mesmerised by how perfect it is. In fact, it’s hard to keep the excitement from spilling over now that I’m here.

My driver nearly pushes me into the main reception building where another member of staff greets me, but the view through arched glass pulls my attention. The vivid blue of an infinity pool is just on the other side, with branches framing the vista. The pool boasts a clear and uninterrupted view that takes my breath away.

“Miss Littlewood, I’ll show you to your room, but we ask you to join the rest of your party in the dining room as soon as you’re able.” She smiles and starts heading to the left. Of course, all I want to do is explore and soak in the tranquillity that is the sunset.

She leads me down a series of steps out of the main building, and I see there’s a small olive grove and gardens leading to the edge of what must be a cliff, the sea and the sun beyond. More steps, and into a building that is slightly curved, fanning outwards as we go. Doors to bedrooms start coming up on our left, and I hope this will mean I have a gorgeous sea view. We pass a few doors before she stops and raises her wrist to the handle, and the little green light blinks her admittance. She hands me a white key card as she opens the door and holds it open for me to follow.

Oh my god!

Swathes of cloud-like material billow in the breeze, the separation between the room and the private outdoor pool, beyond which is the view over the ocean. I dump my bags on the bed in front of the doors leading outside and take a closer look. The last of the sun’s warm glow has dipped too low to cast me in its warmth, but small tea lights decorate the hotel grounds, making it look magical.

It's perfect.

I turn back to thank the staff member, but she’s disappeared. So, I set about exploring the rest of the room. Thankfully, I can slide the door shut, affording me a little more privacy than what was on offer a second ago. The bed looks bigger than my room at home, and the rest of the decoration is simple yet sumptuous. White is the colour scheme, set off with bright pops of olive and gold on the cushions, chair, and headboard. I turn to find the bathroom and nearly gasp. Half the wall that adjoins the rest of the room is solid, but the top is glass, providing an uninterrupted view of the pool and outside, even from the shower. Fortunately, the tiled marble of the bottom half does give you the privacy you need.

I’ve never been able to afford an indulgence like this – our family hasn’t either, so the little touches in the room and the sheer opulence of it make me feel special.

Suddenly I’m a small child again, and it’s Christmas morning. Except, it's summer, and I’m all grown up.

My instructions when arriving were to join the rest of my family at the rehearsal dinner in the dining room, but the sweat and grime on my skin tell me to shower and change before I make my appearance. And they can’t tempt me with this rainwater shower head and not expect me to make good use of it.

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