Page 65 of The Villa

Mari hopes she can grab a quick sandwich and then get back to her desk without having to see anyone, but when she reaches the foyer, she’s startled to see Johnnie standing there.

He’s hovering, almost like he was waiting for her, and Mari smiles at him, a little bemused.

“Hiya, Johnnie,” she says, and he steps forward, jittery.

“I was hoping you might come down. I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“I’ve been working,” she tells him, gesturing vaguely upstairs, and he nods again, his movement a little too jerky.

This is the reason she’s been avoiding Johnnie for the past week or so. Lately, it seems that he’s always high, and Mari finds that both boring and annoying. She occasionally puts up with it from Pierce, but she won’t from anyone else, Johnnie included, and now she hopes she can just scoot past him, get her lunch, and get back to work.

But he’s blocking her path, his dark eyes pleading and liquid. “I’ve really missed you these past weeks,” he says, and it’s so plaintive that it touches her a little bit. She remembers that first day with him by the pond, when she’d thought how nice it was to have a boy with a crush on her.

“Johnnie,” she says, touching his arm. She means it as a gesture of affectionate friendship, but Johnnie clearly takes it for an opening.

He surges forward, and then his mouth is on hers.

It’s a clumsy kiss, more enthusiasm than technique, and Mari is so startled by it that, for the briefest moment, she allows it.

But the whole thing just feels awkward, like she’s kissinga little brother or something, and she pulls away, her hands coming to his rest on his cheeks.

“Johnnie,” she says, her voice soft, and she expects him to give her that wry smile, that almost sheepish shrug. Worth a try, he’ll say, and they’ll laugh it off. Maybe he’ll be a little embarrassed, but not actually regretful.

Mari can see it playing out all so clearly in her mind that she’s confused when Johnnie’s expression goes hard, his hands grabbing her wrists.

“Right,” he says, his lip curling. “Johnnie.”

There is an ugly kind of sneer in his voice, and Mari stares up at him as he pushes her away. “So, you’ll have it off with Noel, and you’ll end up marrying that prick Pierce even though he’s fucked your sister and drove his wife to suicide, but I’mjust Johnnie, right? What was it Noel said? Ah, right.Bit of a spaniel.”

“That’s not—” she starts, but he shakes his head.

“Nah, don’t tell me that’s not what it is. I can fucking well see it, can’t I?”

He points viciously toward the front of the house where she assumes Pierce must be. “Hetreats you like shit, and you won’t have the guts to actually leave him because if you do that, you gotta admit that it was all for nothing, right? That you fucked over your familyandhis innocent wife, all for some piece of shit who wasn’t worth it.”

The words come out in an angry torrent, every one of them stinging, and Mari looks at this man she thought she liked, this man she thought she understood, and realizes he might as well be a stranger.

And the worst part of it is, she knows he’s right. Yes, he’s hurt and he’s being a massive wanker about all of it, but he isn’t actually wrong.

She has thrown in her entire lot with Pierce. There’s no coming back from it, the only way out is through. And, as much as she hates it—Christ, how she hates it sometimes—she does love him.

She always will.

There’s a sound from the kitchen, and Mari looks over to see Elena watching them. She’s pretending not to, her gaze immediately darting to the groceries she was unpacking, but her cheeks are red, and her hands are trembling.

Another story for the villagers, Mari guesses, about the decadent rock stars up on the hill.

“Johnnie,” she says now, lifting her hands toward him. “Please don’t be like this.”

He rubs a hand angrily over his mouth, walking away from her, then coming right back, his eyes wild, and Mari backs up a step.

Johnnie has always seemed sweet to her, charming and boyish, and she doesn’t know if it’s the drugs that have done this to him, but it occurs to her, almost wonderingly, that she’s actually afraid of him right now.

“I asked around about him. About your old man. Called some friends back home, and turns out one of them knew his wife.”

It’s the last thing she expected to hear, and she blinks. “Frances?”

He nods, and there’s that angry gesture again, his hand across his lips. “Yeah. My mate Tom. He went to school with Franny’s brother. Didn’t know her all that well, but said she was sweet. She loved her family, and she could have had a happy life. Except one night, she and a couple of her mates snuck off to London to see some singer.”

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