in I was hoping to stay for four nights but apparently the hotel’s been booked up for weeks—some VIPs are arriving this morning. The bellboy’s bringing my luggage down now, and while I’m having breakfast the concierges are ringing around to find me alternative accommodation.’
‘That’d be right,’ the therapist muttered. ‘Kick out the paying guests…’ Her voice trailed off as she realised she’d probably overstepped the mark, but Lydia pushed on, more than happy to fish a little, giving a tiny swallow as she tried to sound like the rich little madam she was hoping to portray.
‘Well, I’m far from happy with the situation,’ Lydia bristled. ‘And I sincerely hope that a concierge can find me somewhere suitable—somewhere with a decent salon at the very least. What sort of VIPs are they anyway?’
‘The worst sort,’ the therapist answered in a theatrical whisper. ‘There’s going to be a take-over of the hotel and some of the bigwigs from a massive European chain are coming. We’re all supposed to be on our best behaviour—why don’t we try grey?’
‘Sorry?’ Opening her eyes, Lydia blinked back at the woman.
‘On your eyes. I know you said you prefer neutral, but a deep smoky grey will really bring out the amazing colour of your eyes—they’re more gold than hazel—’
‘I don’t want anything too heavy,’ Lydia broke in. ‘I really prefer a more natural look.’
‘Trust me,’ Karen insisted, a long red nail hovering over an array of tiny pots, her eyes narrowing as she stared closely at Lydia’s face. ‘You’re going to look stunning. One wave of my magic wand and I can create an entire new you.’
A ‘new you’ was exactly what was needed, Lydia thought ruefully, if she was ever going to face Anton. A tiny glimmer of a plan started to emerge. ‘Can you do anything to tone down my complexion?’
‘You’re as white as paper,’ Karen tutted.
‘But I blush terribly.’ Lydia gave a dismissive shrug. ‘And, like I said, I’ve got an important meeting this morning—I don’t want to give myself away when we discuss prices.’
‘You need a green base.’ Karen nodded knowingly. ‘Nothing like what you’re thinking.’ She grinned at Lydia’s rather startled expression. ‘I’ve got this fabulous mineral powder; we have it flown in from New York. Wearing that you can double your prices—triple them, even—and you’ll be as pale and as cool as porcelain.’
‘Really?’ Lydia gave a dubious frown.
‘Really!’ Karen winked. ‘We’ll have to pay extra attention to your décolletage—that’s a real give away when you’re blushing.’
And she would blush!
Just the thought of facing Anton had her pulse pounding in her temples and a scorching, shameful warmth flooding her. But as Karen worked on slowly the horror receded, and Lydia gave in to the pleasure of the moment, knowing that in a few short days she’d be back to a few dabs of sunblock and slick of mascara if she was lucky.
Lydia let Karen transform her as Cindy worked on her nails. She didn’t even glance in the mirror when she sat upright for her hair to be dried—she focussed on a magazine as her curls were dragged beyond her shoulders.
For the first time in ages Lydia didn’t turn automatically to the health section, didn’t read how she could increase her stamina or detox her entire system in a mere weekend. She even bypassed an in-depth article on a recent high-profile court case. Instead, with a flutter of excitement, she flicked to the social pages. She gazed at photos of the rich and famous, at their smooth botoxed faces belying their age, their divine dresses and long, smooth legs that ended in jewel-encrusted shoes. She could almost smell the expensive perfume wafting from their silicone-enhanced bosoms. She looked at the Russian-red lips smiling for the cameras, and for the first time since she’d checked in Lydia smiled back.
The diversity of her career hit home: only this time last week she had been on a stake-out, dressed in a navy tracksuit, a world away from the glamour she was forced to sample now, boxed up in a supposedly abandoned van for forty-eight hours. She had watched pimps and drug dealers infesting the vulnerable with their wares, staring through the bolt holes fitted with telescopes as weary prostitutes willed the morning to come, drinking endless cups of coffee to stay awake as she made small talk and tried to cheer up Kevin Bates—an inspector on the force she regularly worked alongside, a man she both liked and admired.
Forty-eight hours confined in his company, listening to him fret about his eldest child who was having his tonsils out that week, was a world away from what she was experiencing now! A freshly squeezed orange and guava juice was the order of the day, instead of her usual flask of coffee. Now, massive marble bathrooms replaced the rudimentary portaloo in the corner of the van that she’d had to endure so they didn’t blow their cover by stepping outside.
It wasn’t just a world away, Lydia corrected herself, but an entire universe from where she was now. And for a slice of time this opulent world was the one in which she was supposed to belong, with which she had been ordered to blend in. Lydia made a vow to revel in it the same way Maria was—to live the fantasy of being obscenely rich. She’d taken the bad over and over again. For the next few days she’d enjoy the good.
‘You’re done!’ Karen’s voice was triumphant as she pulled off the towel and gown and smoothed Lydia’s hair over her shoulders. ‘I’ll get a mirror so you can see the back and sides.’
Normally for Lydia the mirror bit of a salon visit was an uncomfortable, painful experience—a mumbled thanks as she wondered how on earth she could correct the appalling creation, grappling in her purse to give a very undeserved tip as she blinked away tears. This time, however, she was trying hard to keep herself from smiling, desperately trying to remember that she was supposed to be used to this, that she was always supposed to look groomed and divine.
Staring at her profile from every angle, Lydia barely recognised herself. Her curls were a distant memory. Instead her hair shimmered in a straight silk curtain. But it wasn’t just her hair that had her mesmerised—it was the entire package! The sparkling gold of her eyes as they peered out from underneath smoky grey lids was deliciously framed by her newly darkened lashes, and even her skin seemed to glow with healthy delight, a cheeky dot of colour on the apple of each cheek drawing her gaze to the dark, sexy red of her lips.
‘Try it now.’ Karen giggled.
‘Try what?’ Lydia asked, still mesmerised by her reflection.
‘Think of your deepest, darkest secret, something that will make your toes curl with shame, and watch that make-up do its magic.’
So she did…
She relived in her mind the sheer abandonment that had doused her this morning. The stinging sensation of Anton’s kiss, the cool of his mouth, the nibble of his teeth against the wedge of her tongue. She could almost feel the steel of his erection nudging her most private place. She could almost feel herself willingly overstepping boundaries that until today had always been firmly entrenched. Staring at her reflection, Lydia envisaged what had just a short while ago seemed impossible—facing Anton Santini, confronting the man she had revealed so much of herself to, staring deep into those cruel, sensuous eyes and somehow appearing in control, portraying the cool, detached detective that she was supposed to be, somehow pretending that he hadn’t touched her so.
‘Cool as a cucumber,’
