electric gates next to the hotel, set into a high, long, blank wall giving zero indication of what was hidden behind. The drive easily held the eight parked vehicles and a private security guard sat at the gate to buzz them in.
They were permitted entry to the walled enclosure and a majordomo waited to greet them at the front door of the low, wide house buried behind a jungle of palm trees, once they made our way around the giant freeform black-tiled pool. The hall and reception rooms were colossal, dark and loaded with ancient furnishings more Loire Chateau than desert island beach house. But they were led through the passageways, into a sunroom half the length of the house and emerged onto a broad verandah peppered with deep cushioned loungers fronting directly on the diamond dust beach. Indie gasped at the expanse of blistering blue water dominating the one eighty degree vista, edged by a paler blue sky and a white hot sand beach.
She'd somehow expected that only Damien would be there, waiting to take them out skiing but the verandah was crowded with people of various ages and all fully clothed. She felt exposed and flaunting in the Marilyn bikini with only a sarong around her waist, when Damien leapt up from his lounger to kiss both women on each cheek then introduced them around.
Shit, they'd stumbled in on a family gathering. He introduced his brother Chrestien, and his brother's new wife. The various friends of theirs still hanging on after the recent wedding celebrations, plainly reluctant to leave the luxury hideaway. There was his cousin, then the guy he'd been arguing last night sitting sullen in jeans and tee shirt despite the heat of the day. Damien introduced him as Laurent and he gave a desultory wave of hand before turning back to his fashion magazine. The men sat holding beers and talking with loud jocularity at one end of the terrace, the women sat at the other, circling a beautiful older woman. The old lady sitting in the shade and resplendent at the head of the group, neither responded with a wave or even looked up to greet the new arrivals when introduced by Damn as his Lady mother. Madame Beauregard Le-Comte plainly had no time for her son's friends.
They sat perched uncomfortably on the edge of a lounger and Dam made sporting conversation with Sasha. Indie looked from under downcast eyes at the regal gathering. If it hadn't been for the tropical surroundings, the hibiscus and bougainvillea dripping from abundant foliage, they could have been mistaken for a party in the drawing room at Pemberley. (Indie was a sucker for those books about thwarted romance and Pride and Prejudice was her absolute fave.) What a motley crew of a family- Chrestien was the eldest son, taller and broader that his younger brother as well as having a mop of golden blonde hair. He was completely the opposite of Damien and his mother who were both dark tan with midnight black hair. And then the cousin who was darker still with hair that, if she wasn't mistaken, had been ironed.
Indie stole a glance at Laurent, sitting alone, apart from the brother's friends with a definite pout on his soft lips that didn't match his razor jaw. He was plainly angry still about whatever he and Damn had disagreed about last night. He must have caught her thought because he raised thick lashes to sneak a peek at her and they locked eyes. Indie smiled a let's be friends smile that he barely returned before flipping the page and returning to his mag. Or not then. What the fuck does he have to be upset with me about? I had nothing to do with his fight with his friend. The family behaved as though the new arrivals were utterly invisible, the brother spoke only to his male friends, while his wife, Anouk and Damn's cousin, Faustine was it?, only came to life when the grand Mama spoke. Jumping to do whatever she'd instructed, her every utterance like a command from the heavens above. It was hot, she said, so Anouk leapt to turn the ceiling fan control
They were permitted entry to the walled enclosure and a majordomo waited to greet them at the front door of the low, wide house buried behind a jungle of palm trees, once they made our way around the giant freeform black-tiled pool. The hall and reception rooms were colossal, dark and loaded with ancient furnishings more Loire Chateau than desert island beach house. But they were led through the passageways, into a sunroom half the length of the house and emerged onto a broad verandah peppered with deep cushioned loungers fronting directly on the diamond dust beach. Indie gasped at the expanse of blistering blue water dominating the one eighty degree vista, edged by a paler blue sky and a white hot sand beach.
She'd somehow expected that only Damien would be there, waiting to take them out skiing but the verandah was crowded with people of various ages and all fully clothed. She felt exposed and flaunting in the Marilyn bikini with only a sarong around her waist, when Damien leapt up from his lounger to kiss both women on each cheek then introduced them around.
Shit, they'd stumbled in on a family gathering. He introduced his brother Chrestien, and his brother's new wife. The various friends of theirs still hanging on after the recent wedding celebrations, plainly reluctant to leave the luxury hideaway. There was his cousin, then the guy he'd been arguing last night sitting sullen in jeans and tee shirt despite the heat of the day. Damien introduced him as Laurent and he gave a desultory wave of hand before turning back to his fashion magazine. The men sat holding beers and talking with loud jocularity at one end of the terrace, the women sat at the other, circling a beautiful older woman. The old lady sitting in the shade and resplendent at the head of the group, neither responded with a wave or even looked up to greet the new arrivals when introduced by Damn as his Lady mother. Madame Beauregard Le-Comte plainly had no time for her son's friends.
They sat perched uncomfortably on the edge of a lounger and Dam made sporting conversation with Sasha. Indie looked from under downcast eyes at the regal gathering. If it hadn't been for the tropical surroundings, the hibiscus and bougainvillea dripping from abundant foliage, they could have been mistaken for a party in the drawing room at Pemberley. (Indie was a sucker for those books about thwarted romance and Pride and Prejudice was her absolute fave.) What a motley crew of a family- Chrestien was the eldest son, taller and broader that his younger brother as well as having a mop of golden blonde hair. He was completely the opposite of Damien and his mother who were both dark tan with midnight black hair. And then the cousin who was darker still with hair that, if she wasn't mistaken, had been ironed.
Indie stole a glance at Laurent, sitting alone, apart from the brother's friends with a definite pout on his soft lips that didn't match his razor jaw. He was plainly angry still about whatever he and Damn had disagreed about last night. He must have caught her thought because he raised thick lashes to sneak a peek at her and they locked eyes. Indie smiled a let's be friends smile that he barely returned before flipping the page and returning to his mag. Or not then. What the fuck does he have to be upset with me about? I had nothing to do with his fight with his friend. The family behaved as though the new arrivals were utterly invisible, the brother spoke only to his male friends, while his wife, Anouk and Damn's cousin, Faustine was it?, only came to life when the grand Mama spoke. Jumping to do whatever she'd instructed, her every utterance like a command from the heavens above. It was hot, she said, so Anouk leapt to turn the ceiling fan control
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