Torn By Desire. Natalie Fox
gloss, down the little narrow alleyways with the muddle of whitewashed terraced houses leaning against each other, their tiny balconies dripping geraniums and bougainvillea.
Lorraine nudged her knee. ‘You’re being spoken to, Kate. Pay attention,’ Lorraine seethed.
‘Sorry?’
Guy repeated, ‘Is it your first time?’
‘First time what?’ she asked, leaning forward to acknowledge his question. She hoped Lorraine wasn’t going to patronise her all the time in front of the Latham brothers. So she was fairly new to the company, but she wasn’t a gauche little mouse.
‘First time abroad,’ Lorraine snapped irritably.
‘Hardly’, Kate murmured, leaning back in her seat. It struck her that Lorraine was very stiff sitting next to her. She wondered why. ‘I went to school in Switzerland and lived in France and Austria for ten years, and when I wasn’t studying I travelled with my mother; she writes travel guides,’ she told them.
She heard Guy laugh softly.
‘Proper little Eurochild, aren’t you?’ Lorraine said under her breath, and Kate heard another small laugh from Guy.
I’m not going to enjoy this, Kate suddenly thought as they swept off the motorway. Already she could feel Lorraine’s animosity towards her. At twenty-two she wasn’t a child but if Lorraine kept undermining her this way…But then, when had it been any different since she’d joined the company? Kate was good at her work and for some reason Lorraine resented that, though her position in the company hadn’t been achieved by her just being a beautiful face. Sometimes Kate didn’t understand women, even less so when Lorraine suddenly acted so unsophisticatedly that it almost took Kate’s breath away.
‘Oh, Guy!’ Lorraine breathed ecstatically, leaning across him to gaze out of his side of the car. Security gates had swished open on their approach to the Lathams’ villa. ‘Have you ever seen anything like that?’
Which was a pretty dumb question, Kate thought, seeing as Guy was part owner of the property. But Kate supposed that she was trying to ingratiate herself with him and acting madly impressed.
So, it was a great-looking place, way over the top for Kate’s modest tastes, and she felt a small thrum of disappointment. It screamed out the status of its owners. Kate had honestly believed Conrad to have more conservative taste. It was brashly floodlit for one thing, giving the villa a pinky movie-town glow about it. A Hollywood-style pool surrounded by strident palm trees was the main focal point in front of the villa. The house was sprawling, pink and red-roofed, with an ornate wrought-iron balcony running across the top floor and decorative shutters at the windows. The patios below were of pink-hued marble with reproduction figurines and statues and lush potted plants dotted around. Pillared archways led to the gardens surrounding the secluded property and were floodlit too and promised fragrant walks amongst stunning tropical vegetation—if you could bear the glare of the pinktinted lighting.
Perhaps it was just fatigue that added to this feeling of disappointment inside Kate at the sight of such gross lavishness. But this was Guy’s property too, she reasoned, and flashness was a definite part of his nature, so perhaps it was his taste more than his brother’s.
Staff suddenly descended on them from the villa and the disappointment was heightened when Conrad didn’t appear and Kate found herself and her bags taken over by a maid who introduced herself as Charo and spoke fairly good English. Charo—pretty, dark-haired and olive-skinned, about the same age as Kate—led her round the side of the villa, away from Guy and Lorraine, who were heading towards the front entrance, Lorraine hanging onto Guy’s arm and neither of them even glancing back to see if Kate was following.
‘Señor Latham thought you would be more comfortable in the guest house,’ Charo told her with a beaming smile.
Kate’s heart went into reverse and dejectedly she followed, reminding herself that she was here to work. Lorraine got the main house with Guy and she was consigned to the crummy old guest house, tucked out of the way. And there was she nurturing thoughts that Conrad might have specifically asked for her to be sent over, with amorous intentions in mind. She was more than likely spare to requirements in the London office.
‘Oh,’ Kate breathed, her hand going to her throat in delicious surprise. Charo had just opened an arched oak door in a white wall and stepped back to let Kate enter. The door opened into a cobblestoned courtyard—a courtyard so olde-worlde and hot and scented and dripping with grapevines from the dark wooden beams overhead that Kate was overwhelmed. It was lit, but only just. Candles burned in black iron sconces on the rough white walls. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she uttered in surprised awe.
Charo looked happy that she found it so agreeable. ‘It’s the best part of the estate, the original old finca. The rest it came later. Señor Latham love this place. Come inside. I show you.’
Overwhelmed with relief that this was Conrad’s personal taste, Kate followed her into the cool, stone-floored house, her heart thudding nervously as Charo showed her round. Conrad had thought she would like this in preference to the opulence of the main house; it was an exciting thought.
It was furnished beautifully with Spanish antiques, nothing over the top. Simple, peasant-type antiques and old Turkish rugs on the polished terracotta floor occupied the spacious main room downstairs. There were several shallow steps and an archway leading to another room. One wall was lined with books, a huge fireplace dominated another, and paintings and small windows adorned another. Upstairs there were three bedrooms, none over-sized. All had old Spanish beds with carved wooden frames and downy mattresses with heavy lace bedspreads. There was matching lace at the open windows. The scent of jasmine perfumed the air from the courtyard below.
The two bathrooms were sympathetic additions to the original rooms, white and gold and cool, and downstairs Charo showed her the small, efficient kitchen that she wasn’t expected to use.
‘I cook your breakfast and lunch and you dine at the villa in the evening. Señor Latham wanted this part kept away from the main house, so it does not connect. You have to go back the way we came, through the garden.’ Charo smiled. ‘You like the guest house?’
Kate nodded and smiled happily. ‘It’s lovely,’ she enthused. This was Conrad’s taste, not that pretentious villa beyond. And he had allocated it to her. She was overwhelmed with happiness and flattered beyond measure. It was a very special, secret place and already she was in love with it.
‘You very lucky,’ Charo told her in the main room downstairs as Kate wandered around, smoothing her fingertips over the polished surface of the dark wood dining table. ‘Señor Latham allows no one here,’ she said meaningfully.
Kate’s head shot up and her heart started pounding recklessly as she stared at Charo, whose dark eyes were sparkling mischievously. Charo laughed at her expression. ‘I unpack for you.’
‘No,’ Kate told her quickly with a smile. ‘I’d rather do it myself.’ She wanted to be alone to take all this in. It was beyond her wildest expectations but a little unnerving. The implications of it all were too much for the moment. ‘Thank you, Charo. I’d like to shower and go to bed and—’
‘But dinner is being prepared at the villa. My mother, she cooks for everyone.’
‘Dinner?’ Kate glanced at her watch. She couldn’t eat at this time of night, or rather the early hours of the morning. ‘No dinner.’ She smiled at Charo again. ‘Please make my excuses.’ Much as she wanted to see Conrad again and to thank him for his thoughtful hospitality, she really was on her last legs.
Half an hour later she was in bed. Cool and relaxed after a long, warm shower. She slept like the proverbial log.
Coffee! She could smell coffee brewing and bacon grilling. Delicious. She stretched luxuriously in the downy bed. Sun filtered dreamily into the room and cicadas serenaded the last remnants of sleep from her muddled head. Charo was cooking her breakfast. I could get used to this, she thought as she yawned